Wheeling Gull Isle the voice of rage and ruin

this cover is so intense x-x

When the strangers were collected (for the most part), she slipped away. Back to the culvert which she had first discovered upon the isle which she had made her own. The small section of rock was hardly big enough for her own body, but she could always squeeze between the boulders to the inner sanctum; it had only become easier as the days wore on and her weight slipped away. Now, frail though she looked, Parthenos could slink in to the tiny hideaway and stretch out for some relief upon cold and damp sand. The stones were crusted with barnacles; their tops were higher than she could see, but somehow she knew - maybe by scent - that they had been worn down like the flat teeth of deer, and held pockets of sea water. This was a welcome respite from the chaos of the storm. Parthenos knew, though, that she could not escape from them for too long. The tide would come and she would have to disembark again, lest she be trapped and drowned between the stones.