Wheeling Gull Isle oka falamah

He was growing stronger, and he knew the island better every day. Tonight, as the stars unfurled overhead, he chose to venture along the water's edge. It was loud everywhere! The crashing was dangerous and so he kept back when it got very loud, but otherwise Mojag tempted the water, as if it were alive and it were a plaything.

He knew better. The water had brought him here after all; he assumed it had brought them all here, to the edge of the world. It wasn't the best course of action to race towards the surf and then, tagging the wet sand with an obnoxious slap, try to out-run the rush of the waves. Mojag came away from it soggy but feeling very much alive.

It was different from his voyage here. He had control of these moments, and he felt powerful.