If the foam was any indication then there could be no doubt: there were internal wounds inside the beast which needed tending, and yet she still protested. The chill of the stone would have been a relief to anyone surrounded by the heat of summer, and yet, Arkham was shivering. She remained against the stone as she gathered her wits, which were fleeting enough with the uncertainty caused by the concussion. The stranger's questions were met with a blank stare at first, which then transitioned in to a fog of confusion and hostility.
I was swimming.
That much was obvious. How else would she get so sickeningly soggy? How else did a creature such as her wake up this far out upon the beach? A ludicrous question that caused her to elicit a huff. Although that could've been from the possible pneumonia that had been bestowed upon her by the sea.I mean, I have been... Travelling. And when I came to the edge of the world, I followed the water.
The sound of her voice continued to crackle, and she had to pause to catch her breath. In the moment where she gasped a breath, her body sagged against the stone in an obvious show of weakness. I tried to drink it. I tried to... To fish it. But I failed.