Stavanger Bay The king and his men stole the queen from her bed

Cold. Cold and wet. It was all she had known for what felt like days. She was exhausted, laying prone on a piece of detritus, the rotting, bloated remains of a half eaten goat tangled amongst the mass. The meat was foul but kept her alive. The rocking sensation finally ceased and she lifted her salt encrusted head with a groan. Land. There was earth beneath her paws. 
At first, as she rolled slowly to her paws, she wondered if the sea had finally claimed her life. Saskia was not a religious wolf, She had no interest in heavens, hells, or spirits. But as she staggered up the secluded beach, dizzy, exhausted, and dehydrated, she realised what appeared like an afterlife was actually...a second chance. 
Her nose dipped and she could smell the faint, faded waft of other wolves. The wind shifted, and Pack-Scent met her nose. The russian would normally be apprehensive, even stanoffish, but these were not normal times. She was hungry, thirsty, and exhausted. She lacked the strength to hunt and provide for herself, and snow and Ice still clung to the ground. No, she would simply have to hope there was enough hospitality to at least last till spring.

Huā had come to the bay to seek Umbra to ask about Abaddon, but was surprised to find the scents faded when she arrived, and the place seemingly empty. Continuing further into the old territory hesitantly, there was no trace of Umbra or Wintersbane. She'd have to get to the bottom of it later- because there upon the beach, there was something that caught her attention. A gray figure, and she nearly thought it to be a man at first because of her build, but scent told her otherwise. Huā made her way over cautiously. This wasn't her first experience with castaways. Calling out to her, who looked lost- Greetings! Have you come from the sea, stranger? More like an invitation for an explanation of any of her past, because Saskia definitely seemed like she'd washed up.