The pine trees shuddered as a hot breeze coursed its way across their boughs. Beyond them, fields of tall grass trembled as if to protest against the salt-heavy air—and beyond even that, was the sprawling eastern beaches that wrapped their way around the island. The tide had withdrawn, licking its way across the sand and tugging detritus with it. However, it didn't take everything.

Beyond the saturated band of limp seaweed that followed a similar band of smooth rocks, there sat a large rock. It was more of a boulder really, and had gotten wedged in to the sand—it's girth descending in to the wet soil and, presumably, expanding in size the deeper it went. What wasn't covered in sand was peppered with barnacles. Beneath the sun it baked dry, while below its low-cast shadow, a great wet lump had been deposited.

A seagull coasted on the hot summer currents, watching the ocean for a few moments before diving towards the sea; but it drifted off of its course when it caught sight of the lump. Curious and hungry, the bird landed on the top of the large boulder and let out a shrieking call.

The gull perched itself after it called out, hunkering down atop the boulder without a care. Above it there were two more, circling like vultures, no doubt brought in by the summoning shriek—but the lump did nothing. The lump, being a lump, couldn't hear anything. It didn't notice the birds or the arrival of a curious wolf, and would lay there half-buried in the sand just like the stone which guarded it.

A second gull landed next to the first, hopping across the top of the rock in order to peer down in to the shadow; and finally the third, which still coasted on the air currents, dropped. It landed in the sand next to the shadow, nearer to the pale wolf. It was bold and curious, but as the wolf got closer the bird took off again, spooked by his proximity. The sharp motion scared the two resting birds, and so the trio took off in to the summer sky; they squawked in protest.

Their collective bludgeoning of the ears was enough to make the lump take a proper shape, at least partially. It shifted weakly against the sand but did not rise; a leg slid in to the light and it was then that the salt-encrusted fur could be seen. Four toes, a slicked mixture of gold-cinnamon-brown, with wet sand caking the digits.

Thus the facts presented themselves: It was alive, and quite possibly, it was a wolf.

The lump barely shifted when the pale wolf approached, although some part of it did feel a nudge. When the observer withdrew, there was nothing but stillness and silence—the ocean sounding bilious as it rolled about in the beyond. The birds returned then; but this time it was not just the gulls. While the seabirds circled upon the open air, a crow landed atop the boulder. It hopped across the surface with an eager, expectant loom to its body. Long-faced and hungry.

It hopped down and skittishly moved towards the lump, not phased by the wolf that stood so close by. It cawed at the lump, pecking at some of the fur and pulling, as if to test the boundary no doubt set by the watching wolf. Regardless of his reaction, the bird would hop and pester until properly chased away—but it would not be Skoll that did the chasing.

When a strong enough squawk rang out, the lump shifted again. This time it rolled, and there was a slick and wet sound from beneath. The sand held firm to the resting limbs of the creature, but after a lethargic roll they came loose. The lump's head now came in to view in the sunlight: a square head, long but rounded muzzle, and closed eyes. But as the crow continued to dance around it, pecking and pestering, somehow it woke up.

With water suddenly bursting from within the creature, the wolf began to cough and struggle for air. The sounds were chaotic enough to startle the crow, although not far—it took to roosting upon the boulder, watching the white wolf and the struggling soggy dog below.

What fell from her lips to the sand was a rising red sputum, a foam of striking pink quality that was swiftly absorbed in to the grains. The creature's head was raised for only a moment before it was dropped to the sand again, as the muscles holding it aloft were too strained from a previous struggle. The body of the dog began to quake—subtle shivering at first in the withers which spread through her tired muscles, until she could barely keep her torso lifted.

The dog then collapsed in to the sand. The sun streaked through the fur of her exposed face, although it was swiftly blocked out when a stranger approached. Majesty's words were heard (on some level), and the half-drowned girl managed to open her eyes and catch a glance of him, but she was wracked by further ills. Another coughing fit, with more of the froth emerging from the back of her throat, followed by seawater that had housed itself within her lungs. Her breath crackled as she struggled for a clean inhalation.

"Can you understand me?" Majesty had queried. The hybrid did not respond at first—but when her heart rate began to calm, when the rumble of her lungs became less obvious, she managed to give a slow nod.

Ark's eyes were attempting to focus on the speaker. Initially she saw the cinnamon pelt of her brother, his dark features and odd expression of concern; it had been ages since she had seen Harvey though, and this understanding jarred her mind in to seeing what was truly there. The wolf before her loomed in place. The familial concern Arkham thought she saw upon her sibling remained, but it was upon the face of a stranger. This put her in to an abrupt panic, and the girl tried to get to all four paws—scrambling to her full height, only to lean her bruised body against the boulder for support.

She licked foam from her lips before trying to speak.
What.. Who..? With words punctuated by her desperate attempts to get a proper breath, it was clear that Arkham's body had been discovered in the nick of time; more importantly, she was coherent and alive. But not for much longer. The effort to speak coupled with her attempt to stand up only made her mind swim, and she began to physically sag. I... I'm goin' to be.. sick.

Sliding along the side of the rock face, Arkham drifted closer to the ground but she did not pass out as expected. Instead, her muzzle opened and a mixture of sputum, bile, and black-dried-blood erupted from her. The flavor of her vomit was nauseatingly metallic and caused a worrisome furrow to pass across her features.

If the foam was any indication then there could be no doubt: there were internal wounds inside the beast which needed tending, and yet she still protested. The chill of the stone would have been a relief to anyone surrounded by the heat of summer, and yet, Arkham was shivering. She remained against the stone as she gathered her wits, which were fleeting enough with the uncertainty caused by the concussion. The stranger's questions were met with a blank stare at first, which then transitioned in to a fog of confusion and hostility.

I was swimming. That much was obvious. How else would she get so sickeningly soggy? How else did a creature such as her wake up this far out upon the beach? A ludicrous question that caused her to elicit a huff. Although that could've been from the possible pneumonia that had been bestowed upon her by the sea.I mean, I have been... Travelling. And when I came to the edge of the world, I followed the water. The sound of her voice continued to crackle, and she had to pause to catch her breath. In the moment where she gasped a breath, her body sagged against the stone in an obvious show of weakness. I tried to drink it. I tried to... To fish it. But I failed.

The world swam around her, and it was difficult to keep things straight. Balance was one thing that she apparently lacked for the time being, which is precisely why she rested against the rock. Majesty ranted at her for a bit—his words reaching her, but mostly drifting through her. It didn't matter. None of the medical mumbo-jumbo made sense to her in the first place, but when he began to make demands, she huffed with indignant resistance. Still, she was too weary to talk back with her usual gusto—so instead she nodded and took a daring step away from the boulder which kept her standing. Ark faltered and stumbled, nearly careening in to a pale wolf which had gone unnoticed.