Wheeling Gull Isle Castaways and Cutouts

The wolf's stomach continued to lurch and he retched once more, but having exhausted it's contents into the sand a few paces back, his heaves turned dry and empty. A wheezing, rattling cough took the place of the sound of gagging as he continued to inch forward and away from the foul sea. Breathing was difficult after escaping the sea's suffocating grip, but the wolf found it possible and was grateful for the quick and shallow breaths that filled his lungs with air; with life.  

His head still swam with confusion and he hardly noticed the approach of another wolf from across the beach. The castaway looked upward, but avoided making contact with the captain's eyes. Instead, his confused gaze shifted around the beach and territory that lay behind him. 

The stranger's strange way of speaking initally confused the wolf. "What?" he sputtered, but his word was carried away with a rasping cough. Eventually, the stranger's words clicked into place and the wolf responded, "Nah, she's a foul bitch." It was evident to the wolf that he had been swept away by the sea, but for what reason, he could not remember.  "What is this place?"