Wheeling Gull Isle the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking

There were words and glances exchanged, and she set to work again. Testing lumps in case they were bodies, dragging at clusters of sea weed, and doing her best to pick through the incliment weather while avoiding the surf. There weren't many wolves to be pulled free of the sand, although it was hard to tell them apart from various piles of debris; this was why Parthenos nearly missed the dark figure as it was pushed to the shore.

She thought it was just another damp pile of weeds, something drummed up from the deep beyond of the endless sea. A fragment of something from far-off which had planted itself, with aid of the storm, to seed something new.

The wolf was correct in part - but upon probing at the lump, Parthenos found the thing to be fleshy in spots, bony in others. She thought she could discern the curve of a spine. There was only ocean scent to the lump, and it was small - so the woman's first thought had not been wolf. She investigated further - picking up a chunk and pulling softly. The lever of the creature's forelimb was evidence enough that yes, this was another survivor. While it was difficult to see where the ruined body began and the damp sand ended, Parthenos got to work in freeing the shape.

The sky was so dark - the sea was so agitated still! - that this would take time; thus Parthenos was occupied, and did not notice as a group of the survivors went off towards shelter.