Wheeling Gull Isle i'll be unwinding down by the island

Tiamat was unblinking as the other retreated up until the first torrent of rain came. And once this occurred, and the other had not looked back, the woman was near-flying over the sand. With the wind at her back, she escaped her potential fate in no time; but each second on the sandbar was a deadly one, where the waters threatened to take her to her watery grave. But her death was not to be had on this stormy evening. Upon escaping the potentially deadly island, Tiamat turned to rest on her haunches away from where the tide might rise to to observe the island. 

She would sit comfortably beneath this deluge for hours, half-lidded eyes watching the island and the way the ocean behaved with it. The water-level did not rise. And the island was not devoured. Perhaps it still could be. The lone wolf slid onto her belly, the only audience privy to the knowledge of the fate she might have dealt. When the storm passed, she would swim to meet the other; by then, the sandbar would be gone.  In the meantime? The beat of the ocean was a peaceful one, and she let it lull her to sleep. In the end, if this wolf were to die, not even the one who swung the sword would bear witness to its result.

I will start the next one!