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.