Wheeling Gull Isle this is the part where you run

The first wave of oily black sand came and went; the next was more bile than anything, and led to greedy gasps for air. The wolf felt their lungs fight to expand, the spasm now contained solely to the diaphragm. While the sisters stressed and fussed the wolf fought to breathe and gradually came to control the contortions of their body, until finally they could breathe again — shallow, but constant and necessary. The dizziness of the ordeal left the woman addled, though. Her body rested against the dirt but her attention - via her roving eyes - drifted from the falling snow to the shadows cast by the lean bodies around her. Were this a cartoon she would have constellations dancing around her head.

The stranger's voices shot back and forth like darting schools of fish — the kind she had never known before. She could not make out what they were saying and it was disconcerting. Whether this was an aphasia caused by her current status or some kind of trauma survived, the body - this now living woman - would never know. Her gasps regulated over time and peace came, descending upon her long limbs, stilling whatever had possessed her in her fit of kicking and flailing.

The woman chose to look around at those that had gathered. First she traced those shadows, and then followed them to where dark limbs rested upon the sand, connected to a pale tawny-gold body; black-capped head, sea glass eyes. Besides Hua there was a pale woman, ghost-like and serious in the face, save for the residual panic in her eyes. Sea water dribbled along the found woman's chin and she felt the nearly-numb sensation of her tongue flicking across her cold lips, tasting the salt, the bile. It was almost enough to churn her stomach anew.

Instead she looks to the dark-capped one and opens her mouth as if to speak — but instead, awareness slips from her eyes and she slumps to the sand, unconscious but very much alive.