She had slipped. Just a small stumble. Only problem was, her unfortunate slip had taken place on the cliff she had been has been in the process of exploring. Then had been the fall. Horrible, gut wrenching. She would have loved to say that she had looked Death in the eye and laughed, but, quite frankly, she had screamed quite a few curses on the way down. Finally, the impact. Slamming against the water as if it were stone, then plunging beneath the waves as bubbles exploded around her. Breath taken away, she could do nothing but kick, frantic ly, until she broke the surface once more and gasped for breath.
The struggle against the ocean had been hard. One tiny coyote against the swell of the magnificent creature that was the ocean. Posidion, we're the myths to be believed. Certainly, it seemed that Posidion had a grudge against her.
Fast forward to now, thrown limp against the surf, sodden and drenched. Her lungs burned, she coughed up mouthful after mouthful of water, and felt thoroughly salted. The disgusting salt was every where, her side burned from gashes surely sustained in her fall, limbs felt rubbery and useless. But the coyote held onto conscience, barely, catching in the corner of her eye the mighty trees further up the surf, unable and unwilling to pull herself away from the waves that crashed against her side, focusing instead on expelling the water from her lungs.
Slipping this over a little and tagging
@Doe!
Though not a jealous creature by nature, Atoll's pride smarted all the same. She'd been the one to find Sharkbait on the shore, after all... but Skellige had been the one to throw her in. With both their claims on the child, it only made sense for the Leviathan to take charge and take her as his own. And though Atoll was glad to have Sharkbait among their ranks, she wished that she'd been the one to keep the girl. After all, no one had contested it when the ocean had given her to Szymon.
The sea had a funny sense of justice, though, and - as if reading the Blackrock beta's thoughts, had decided to provide her an outlet for her greivences. There, on the beach right in front of her, was another small and newly-baptized form. She descended swiftly on the creature, not caring who or what it might be - all that mattered was that it was hers, now, and she'd like to see Skellige deny that!
Of course, if he did, she would have to agree with him. But maybe... maybe she could keep this one.
"Hail," she said worriedly to her newest posession, drawing near to watch as she wretched fluid from her lungs. A coyote, her eyes and her nose told her - but this mattered little, in Atoll's mind. "Let me help you to fresher waters, lady - and I will give you something to soothe your throat."
She was very glad now that she'd gotten the proper herbs for Sharkbait, and then some to aide the other members of her pack. Now, she would use them to heal her coyote. It looked like she might need a bit more care the Sharkbait, but Atoll would do her best.
A final heave and her lungs felt relatively clear of fluid. She groaned softly, still not willing to drag her wrenched form up the sand. Such was her disorientation, she didn't notice the woman until she begun to speak, only then was the woman noted of her presence. Her fur, normally meticulously groomed, was sodden and crusted with salt and sand, a good word to describe her at the moment would be disheveled. Between her breaths, she managed to squeeze in a single, clipped word. "Skatá"
It was a few more moments before she finally stood, eyeing the other with her bright gaze. Her molten gold optics watched the other for a moment, before simply nodding, to tired to do much else. She swayed on her rubbery legs, feeling very much like she'd like to take a nap. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice screamed. Why was she allowing this pitiful wolf, of all creatures, to aid her?
Feeling rather posessive of the little canine already, but also knowing that this was a mother of her species, Atoll made herself availible to be leaned against as she led the weakened creature toward the West Cliffs, where the water of Donnelaith fell into a clear, rippling pool below. Just a few feet away from the central pool was a small puddle filled by a trickling flow that ran down the face of the rock rather than falling from it. There, Atoll had been soaking the slippery elm bark for Sharkbait to chew. She would have to remember to put some in later, but for now, her coyote could have what had been meant for Sharky.
"This is cool and fresh, and the bark will keep your throat moist while it heals," Atoll said gently, folding herself up nearby and watching her coyote almost greedily. The expression was offset by the compassion and admiration she felt for the smaller creature. Not only was she of the species that'd birthed her own - she had also survived the ocean's wrath, just as Atoll had in her early days on the coast.
"I am Atoll," she said to the woman, remembering her manners. "What will I call you?"
She was led, almost stumbling a few times, senses gradually returning to the small creature as she leaned on the wolf. Why was she here, accepting help from a wolf? But it didn't matter, did it? Her illusions of grandeur for her species were nothing more than stories and culture from her childhood, things taken way out of proportion. This wolf was helping her, when it could have eaten her.
Then there was water, and she was drinking ,easing her burning, parched, through. The dozens of small gashes on her side from her fall had been cleansed by the ocean, they were not at risk at the moment. She drank as greedily as the one was watching her, she did not notice this, however, caught in a feeling of surrealism. Atoll. That was her name. Finally, the coyote looked at her, really looked at the woman, taking her in. "Artemis. I am Artemis" she breathed, her throat raw. She looked at the bark, wondering if she were to eat it. Back at Atoll. "Thank you."
Atoll's tail wagged fiercely as her coyote seemed to gain strength. Her eyes tracked over every inch of the creature, taking in everything from his bottle-brush tail to the triangle-shaped ears that were so like her own. One of her own, anyway.
"Artemis," she said with a quick dip of her head, ears twitching attentively as the woman introduced herself. "There is no need to thank me," she added, though the words made her grin and preen. "Chew the bark - it will help your throat. Is there anything else you need tended to?" she asked, fervent in her need to make safe her new companion. "If you are tired, I have a den for you to sleep in. If you are hungry, I will find you something to eat. Ask, and I will give it to you - there is no need to thank me for it. Not after the day you've had."
It would take some explaining for Szymon, and she would have to tell the Leviathan before very much longer, but Artemis seemed - for now - to be the most urgent of her concerns. The rest would come as soon as she was settled.
The bark was to be chewed, and Artemis complied, exhausted. She chewed it slowly, wincing a moment at the taste, but swallowed it all the same. Her golden orbs widened at the female's hospitality, sinking to her haunches as she sat, moving to pluck a bit of seaweed from her shoulder. "Ma'am, I am so tired. A den would be wonderful. You are so kind, ma'am" she said softly, voice husky from salt but still carrying her harmonious accent.
She twisted, observing her sides and making sure that no wounds stuck out. Her movements were sluggish, slow, dogged with fatigue, but she refused to fall into unconsciousness. Her throat felt soothed, and she spoke again when she noticed the wound on her flank. This one was larger than the rest, and still bled. The salt had cleansed it, very likely, but it was a sizable wound on her small body, and she worried for it. She wanted not to bother the woman, no matter how hospitable she may seem. Her stance slumped in fatigue, body feeling limp and rubbery as she murmered again, this time in another language, "Kourasménos , tóso kourasménos", a repetition of her previous words.
"You can call me Atoll, or Doe, if you want," she said on a whim, standing to lead the woman to the pampas grove where she and Szymon had made their den. Again, she moved slowly, staying near to the smaller creature to be sure that she didn't stumble in her exhaustion. Atoll would only let her lie down on the fawnskin that Szymon had collected for her - for she had seen the coyote's wound, and did not want sand to fester in it.
Showing Artemis to the entrance of the den, she turned to looked around the territory, wondering where the Leviathan might be.
"You will be safe while you rest," she said firmly, eyes flashing as she thought of the fate of anyone who dared hurt what she'd claimed as her own. "I must speak to the king, so that he knows I have brought you into the land. He will understand."
Of her last point, she was not entirely sure. She knew that he would at least listen to her - the sea did not spare just any creature, after all, and it had chosen to deposit the woman onto Blackrock's shores, into her waiting lap. Of course he would understand.
Turning to her coyote, Atoll gave a gentle wag of her tail.
Artemis only nodded at the other's words, following her meekly through the territory to Atoll's den. So exhausted was she, that time seemed to crawl by in odd, disoriented moments. She seemed to be suddenly lying on a fawn-skin, soft and perfect, and her eyes were drifting shut. The other was speaking, but the kind woman's words were becoming blurred, indistinct, as Artemis finally lapsed into sleep her damp form huddled into a small ball on the fawnskin that her host had so kindly offered for her to lay on.
Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths, utterly spent as she drifted away for a long, deep slumber.
Atoll watched the mouth of the den long after Artemis had disappeared inside. It seemed very strange to have someone other than herself or Szymon inside of it, but it was not a feeling she thought she'd have trouble getting used to. Even if she could keep Artemis in the the bay, it was unlikely that she would want to share a den with both Atoll and Szymon - it was not a tight fit for the two of them, but with the three of them, things might get a bit cramped.
She would have to dig a new one, then - something small enough to keep the other wolves out, but allow for the entry of Artemis and herself. She would spread cow parsnip leaves over the floor to keep the sand from her coyote's wounds, and it would work as well - if not better - than her precious fawnskin.
Moving away from the entrance to her den, but keeping it well within sight, she gave a few short pips that invited
@Skellige over for news - no danger, but a pressing matter. If he did not answer, she would have to seek him out; this was not something that she could keep to herself.