Wheeling Gull Isle exit music (for a film)

Her breathing grew more difficult still as something was stuffed into her mouth, shoved down her throat. Maegi gagged, eyes streaming, but eventually was made to swallow, the numb muscles of her esophagus putting up their weakest effort yet. The substance slid down, into her stomach, where her addled system began to process it. Maegi was, of course, unaware of the science, sputtering, licking her lips over and over to rid herself of the vile taste.

Darkness was growing more and more prevalent; whether that was the storm clouds or her own brain shutting down, she didn't know. She couldn't feel a thing, but was only aware of the presence of others, like shadows around her. There was no pain, no noise. Everything was muffled and formless. Even the rain ceased to have temperature or even meaning, and--

The girl lurched suddenly as the yarrow took hold of her system, her stomach convulsing violently. She retched with no results for a moment, then began to vomit, the bile-tinged waste pooling around her muzzle. She was too weak to lift her head; her whole body trembled with the effort of expulsion. It was only when it had ceased that she began to whimper, feeling now, at least distantly, the burning in her throat, the ache in her belly.

She was crying, claws scrabbling for purchase on the sand, at once trying to cling to life and yet slip away again, back into the poppy haze. She teetered farther the right (wrong?) direction on the line between life and death, and as the minutes ticked by, her shuddering began to abate, her whimpers subsiding. Tears and vomitus was her pillow, the ocean her soundscape.

Here she slept, until someone dared to move her. She would have the barest recollection of the night's events come the morning.