Wheeling Gull Isle suffering

I suck at writing stuff. Just to be clear: her tail is facing the ocean, her head is laying in the sand. The water is just barely washing over her as the waves come in, but are not coming in far enough to cover her face. If that makes sense. You do NOT have to match my post length. I got carried away. @Brisbane

The ghost was long gone. She didn’t know how long it had been since their fight. She’d passed out afterwards. Now she awoke on the beach once more, the tangy smell of salt in her nose and the sound the waves in her ears. She opened her eyes. It was nighttime. It was cold. She craned her neck around with a groan and looked at the stars, wondering how long she’d been out. She was now so weak that she felt close to death. Perhaps that was an overreaction or perhaps not. Her body was stiff and aching. She moved to try and sit up and screamed in agony when she stretched the bite wound in her shoulder. Maybe she was weak from blood loss… She tried to move her head around to see the wound properly, but she couldn’t see it very clearly. She could smell blood.

Her brain was encased in fog. It was very difficult to think coherently. What did she know about wounds? Anything? She couldn’t lick it because she couldn’t move her neck around that far. She needed to keep it clean… It was a good thing that she’d been laying on her other side so that there was no sand in the wound. Maybe… If she could get up, she could drag herself to the water. It would be cold, but the salt might help flush the wound.

She moved again, trying to get three of her legs underneath her. She kept her right front leg as still as possible. Still, the pain made her grit her teeth and scream. She was not used to battle wounds. She had little to no pain tolerance for such things. Somehow, she managed to get her paws underneath her and lift herself up. She fell immediately and screamed when the her shoulder was jostled, but forced herself to get back up.

It was slow going. The fight had taken place near the tree line and she had many feet to travel to get to the water. Every slow step was agony. Her shoulder throbbed with every beat of her heart and she could feel warmth in the wound. It had reopened and was bleeding again. She felt woozy but made herself continue. She didn’t want it to get infected. After what felt like an eternity, she dropped heavily into the water, screamed, felt the salt water wash over her wound, screamed again at the sting like there were claws dug into her shoulder, and passed out again.