Wheeling Gull Isle Castaways and Cutouts

Yo ho, it's a pirate's life for me...  For @Ferahgo

The sea was a foul mistress, undiscriminating in her unwavering cruelty. Her calmness to they eye was unbecoming of the strength that lurked beneath the gentle lap of waves against her sandy beaches. She spit ashore a bounty of carrion, rejected from her watery embrace.  Among these bodies to line the south-western shore of Wheeling Gull Island was a curious cargo. A wolf lay sprawled in the shore-break, limbs splayed forward as he periodically tumbed in place with each passing wave until he was eventually carried by the current to the shore. The wolf remained still, rooted in the sand like a corpse.

Consciousness did not return gently. The wolf's orange eyes sprang open, flush with fear as his body underwent a full system reset. He sputtered and gasped, wretching the water from his lungs as he desperately clung to life. The cold water burned with painful intensity and his body temperature had dropped to the bare threshold. Confusion took hold, and the wolf could not remember as to how he ended up on the shore in the first place. But, as he crawled forward on his belly, wretching all the way, the castaway could not be bothered to try to recall the events that led him here. Base instict was all that remained in the blank slate that was his mind; he would survive.