Wheeling Gull Isle you've still got a little lightning in you

Two eyes blinked a dusky wolf into acid-bright existence; the world as lush and green around her, but the crash of the ocean was too-loud in her ears. Her eyes snapped shut, and she waited for Szymon to tell her it was all in her imagination, it was just the rush of blood beating like a wardrum in her ears.

But Szymon remained silent, as he tended to do, these days. Doe took a deep breath and looked around again. The Sea was nowhere in sight, and she was safe in the woods with her mate. Gathering her dignity about her, the woman plucked up her husband and set off through the trees, ears swiveling endlessly toward the sea-whoosh-boom noises that seemed to come at her from every direction. This worried her greatly, but with Szymon's support, she was able to pick her way through the forest with minimal distress.

This calm only lasted, of course, until she found herself on a pebbly stretch of beach, with the waves charging at her full-speed. She would've liked to run or scream or both, but terror-revulsion-anger kept her rooted firmly in place. A tiny, fearful growl escaped her mouth, muffled by the bleach-white jawbone still clutched tightly between her teeth.