Wheeling Gull Isle i’m not superstitious, but i’m a little stitious

"why are you running away?"
........................................................................................................................................

Run. Run. Run.

Run or he'll get you again.

He's coming.

She's here. He's not far behind. He'll find you. He'll kill you.

 

He'll kill them all and it's your fault.

Maegi didn't slow down or look back, not even when she entered the trees. Gasping, panting, she dashed haphazardly through the island brush, sleek fur bristling. The wind screaming past her face as she heard the sound of her own cries, reverberating in her ears.

And her heart. So loud. Like drums.

Finally, she came to a halt and immediately flopped down, a blinding headache coming over her. She let out a primal screech, pushing her face into the dirt, claws dug deep. It wasn't the voices of the daedra that assailed her now but the living, very real voices of her past. Laughing. Shouting. Hollering profanities, each syllable stinging like nettles.

Then it all went quiet. Like a candle going out. And Maegi was left suddenly alone.

The girl let out a sobbing breath, the sound echoing off the trunks of the trees so alien to her. She still smelled Moonshadow, the faint whiff of home, but it was tainted now--tainted by him. She knew now that home would never be the same, that this was a scar she would carry for a lifetime--that he had marked her not only physically, but left an indelible stain on her soul, as well.

She had no notion of how much time had passed before she heard the quiet murmur of the sleek black wolf that ruled this island, calling for her. Her body exhausted, stiff, Maegi slipped from the darkness, eyes missing their usual spark. Coelacanth was submerged in cool water, ebony pelt billowing out around her.

The woman was magic, but not of the kind that ruled Maegi's lore. No, this was a different kind of spirit, one of brighter things, though the color of her fur might suggest otherwise. Her voice was like the first drops of rain to kiss a fire-ravaged place, tentative but ultimately healing. Her eyes the color of the sky--but brighter, somehow, and deep as Maegi imagined the sea was. Coelacanth, was. . .

The girl sat with a sigh that was almost a whimper, near the edge of the water. She did not speak first. She didn't have the words. She hoped that Coelacanth would.