Wheeling Gull Isle suffering

brisbane's nudges appear to be enough to coax her back to consciousness — she manages to open her eyes for a second or two before they droop and let out a groan. brisbane thinks the croaking noise she makes is an attempt to communicate with him, this assumption solidified when she says simply, exhaustedly 'can't'. he frowns, drawing back some to study the positions of her limbs again and try to note if any of them hang out at an unnatural angle. moving her himself was last resort but it was either move her or let her to the tide's mercy — or lack thereof. ok, he says as he circles her once, relieved that none of her limbs appear to be in a position that appears they've been broken. ok. i'm gonna move you. alright? he doesn't expect a reply ...but he doesn't feel right not giving her the warning.

his intention stated he completes his circle so that he faces her, grasps her scruff betwixt his teeth — not hard enough to hurt her, but he had to have a hard enough grip that he could complete his task — and pulls her along up the beach, letting go of her with a heavy pant, she was more or less like hauling dead weight, when he is sure they are far enough away from the greedy rise of the tide. i didn't hurt you too bad, did i? though, he wasn't sure why he was worried. it didn't look like she was in much of a state to notice; even if he did, she had more pressing wounds that he would need to address.