Iktome Plains she'll never write her number on a folded up napkin

she gasps, sputtering awake and discouraging a curious seagull, which promptly screams its upset before winging into the dazzling skies. water spews out of her maw, and she moves to stand immidiately; however, her limbs don't obey her command and she instead flops onto her side like a limp fish. the beach, the sea, it is familiar, the salt in her lungs is not. it burns in a way she never knew the sea could, and she feels exposed on the sand with the dark shapes that are gulls winging their way across her field of vision. 

Clem groans, a soft, shaky sound that is almost inaudible. just over there, the outline of trees - she'll find Erzulie, and she'll know what to do. but first - first, she'll lay here just a moment longer. 

a half-hour passes, and carefully, slowly, the girl peels herself from the sand and begins her staggering way towards the trees.