lost at sea

In, out. In, out. It was rudimentary, the movement. And if that were not natural, it would not occur. But it came with difficulty. And as the wolf moved past her, it was then that the difficulty ended. She sputtered and wretched and expelled brine from her lungs both violently and loudly, and her breathing became far less labored. The unconscious was unconscious no more, and opened an eye; still, she was not truly sentient.

The wolf wrapped in seaweed struggled for a moment, trying to rise... but she was too disoriented. So she fell back into a slump, her sea-salt covered eyes burning and blurred as she tried to truly come to.