Wheeling Gull Isle exit music (for a film)

She was boneless and without shape, a pale puddle oozing onto the ground. The waves had slowed to a glacial pace, rippling across the surface of the water endlessly, crashing onto the beach with a dull roar. She felt every one of her heart beats, like an ominous drum, thudding hard against her chest. Every breath was a monumental effort, a mountain to climb.

Russet filled her vision, a prodding at her side. Words reached her ears, but they were far away, and the syllables had no meaning. There was a delicious yet terrifying feeling of release spreading through her body, from nose to toes, moving from leg to leg to leg to damaged leg and through her face, torn so. . .aagggh. . .Skullchaser. . .

A ghost, panic in his. . .eye. Bodies pressed against her--living or dead? The warmth of the sand on her cheek, the only thing still anchoring her to reality. Drool trickled from the corner of her slack mouth; her eyes moved lazily, impassively taking in her surroundings. Every so often, a paw would twitch, and anxiety would prickle at her skin, as if to warn her, to shout--THIS IS NOT NORMAL!

The rain began to fall, fat drops darkening the pale pelt, one by one. She kept her eyes open, looking at the clouds roll inexorably inward. On. . .and. . .on. . .they. . .came. . .and lightning broke the sky in two, suddenly, striking the waves with a fury unbridled. Thunder rumbled, a companion to her slowing heartbeat, and she struggled to suck in gasping breaths as the air filled with the sharp smell of petrichor.