Coconut Grove sometimes your words just hypnotize me

@Tristan or any other Margaritaville characters? She's going to head inland after this thread.

When she'd gathered enough energy to try and move off of the beach, she tried and failed. Every movement burned. Beneath the silver coat Minerva was a patchwork of bruises, and she was pretty sure there were other injuries—more dire ones—masked by the pressure in her skin. She didn't allow herself to breathe too deeply of the brine-heavy air, much as she wanted to fill herself with every ounce of the sea. Her trail led away from the bay and towards the south until there came a shuddering to the earth, and she was frightened enough by the sensation to move back out towards the coast; as she went, her path arched towards a grove of strange looking trees. They were unlike anything she'd need before. Looming out to sea. 

Minerva collapsed in a heap of loose sand beneath one of the trees. It was stout, dwarfed by everything else that grew around it, but offered her some shelter from the wind and sun. It was at this point that she allowed herself a tentative breath—slow, deep, careful.

As her lungs expanded something twitched along her side and she winced, gasping, exclaiming an off-pitch little yelp as the tightness of her sides became clear. Her ribs were certainly as bruised as the rest of her and she knew, somehow, that there was more damage there than she'd be able to handle. Something was cracked. She was lucky—the fracture hurt but it didn't amount to a pierced lung or something. Her heart thundered and she braced herself against the nearby palm tree, panting in quick bursts. Adrenaline spiked through her system to help curb the worst of the pain. 

She was oblivious to the scent of wolf around her—distracted by her aching body and hardly attentive to her surroundings.