It sits there silently at the mouth of the bay. Shades of green meet the waves lapping against the rocky shoreline. Cameron Island, regal, strong and wise. It holds the ghosts of many who have passed it by and memories of those who have touched its shores.
I cannot turn my eyes. I am compelled to look, drawn in by its spell. My ancestors walk there still.
The mist surrounds it like a shield, protecting it from those who would conquer it, rape it, and claim it as their own.
The people who had made it home, settling there, raising a family are all gone now, all but one, who remains vigilant. She watches the ghosts as they roam the land and cast their nets into the waters, where once they received life from those given.
A tear slides slowly from the eyes that have cried a thousand tears. Through smoke so thick, she watches the flames laugh as they rise higher, erasing the spirit of the people.