Wheeling Gull Isle the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking

Ixchel went rigid when something unnoticed suddenly streaked past her and into the cave. Her spine-fur made to ripple, but under the weight of heavy rain her physical alarm went easily ignored. Grumpy now that she had been startled, the calico nearly missed an actual answer to her call, and she stepped into the damp threshold of the cave to better get her bearings on what was going on inside.

The blue-sheen beauty had holed herself up in a corner, bleeding and asking to stay, and Ixchel turned her head to follow her gaze. The first occupant here had pearly white fur and eyes that shined like starlight in the darkness pooling around them. Ixchel pressed her ears forward, trying to drown out all the thunder and rain by concentrating on the woman's voice. Her shoulders sagged visibly as Aria confirmed that they could stay - relieved that she didn't have to search elsewhere.

Thank you, Aria, Ixchel murmured, giving her head a small shake to free her lashes of water. I'm Ixchel Corten. I apologize for not checking this cave's occupancy status before making a call for my friend. And it seems that my howling did not attract its intended... She looked at the injured she-wolf, moving closer to her. Other strangers may be coming then. Or maybe this one was all who could hear me, she mentioned absentmindedly, her focus shifting from the cloud-furred queen to the blood welling up on the yet unnamed wolf's leg.

What's you name? Care for help with your wounds?

it must have been mere minutes while the girl sunk into darkness, but it seemed to have been aeons when she finally woke. she didn't move, merely feeling the wind and rain lashing into her pelt and briefly wondering why she was not more dead in this moment. Cold had leached to her very bones, and her pelt was alight with stinging and burning wounds, and her chest burned with an odd pain she had not felt before.

gradually, with awareness, came the shouts, barely heard above the rain, and the forms that moved in the rain. the girl lifted her head, slowly, carefully, recalibrating. it was some moments after that she heaved to her feet, lurching atop thin, shaking limbs, and stood there, staring into the driving rain. then she moved, yet not in the direction of the others; instead on a shaky path toward the nearest patch of darkness, a lumpy bush at the edge of the beach. there she crashed into the ground, curling up close to the limited protection the bush offered, far too confused and otherwise occupied with her hurts and cracked ribs to coax any clarity from this situation.