Stavanger Bay Clearest blue

The shivering, crying, urine-soaked mess that had been tossed haphazardly into the sea's clutches was not quite the same creature that eventually emerged from it.

Soon after plunging into the cool saltwater, Larkspur's head hit one of the very rocks that gave the pack its name. She didn't quite lose consciousness, though her awareness dimmed to such a point that her body began functioning almost independently of her addled brain. Even as the tides tugged her to and fro, she kicked and eventually broke the surface again, several dozen yards away from where she had been dropped. She coughed as she drew fresh air into her burning lungs, stinging eyes half-closed. She continued to jerk her legs, staying afloat and otherwise letting the waves have their way with her.

Some time later, she found herself on a beach, soaking wet and clinging to the wet sand as breakers continued to wash over and around her. The youth crawled up the shore a bit, dizzy and disoriented, then slumped down as soon as she was clear of the waterline. She breathed, slowly and shallowly, exhaustion seeping into her bones. Her right temple throbbed, a thread of blood joining the saltwater trickling along her jawline. It had been hours since the unceremonious drop, not that she knew anything about that. She didn't recall much of anything at the moment and was only aware of her struggle to survive.

She pressed her cheek to the sand, closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, then slowly and shakily pushed to sit upright. A piece of kelp clung to her left ear as she peered around blearily, still breathing in the warm, salty air as her bloodshot eyes combed the beach. Nothing looked familiar and when the adrift young wolf peered backward at the ocean, seasickness struck with terrifying immediacy, resulting in her bending forward and vomiting bitter, brackish fluid at her feet.