Wheeling Gull Isle the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking

He reeled for a moment – wondering if the burn in his throat from the salt he had swallowed was an indication that death had not yet come from him – but the winds raged, and the world was unfamiliar to him. Blinking, he glanced up, his gaze blurry for the moment as he studied the other who now came to his side. This could not be hell – could it? In what hell did another care for ones well being?
 
“Yes,” he rumbled, his voice lifting to be heard over the winds, feeling a new surge of determination shift over him. He had not succumbed to death – surely, the higher powers had other ideas for him, as did the Mother. He lifted his head then, straightening himself, though he swayed lightly as another bout of nausea overtook him. With a nod to his current comrade, Constantine scanned the beach side now, his eyes narrowing against the storm.
 
Another was drug from the waters – her slender form limp, as the tawny male aided her. Another pale creature tried to gain their attention – for a flash of a moment, the light of her fur reminded him painfully of Aria – but he quickly realized it could not be the siren he had left behind – she was likely in the warm embrace of Floki upon the mountain top.. safe from harm. Safe from him.
 
With a nod to the wolf who had come to him (Axolotl), he began to lope in the direction of the other pale she-wolf (Hemithea), his muzzle tilting back to him, though his voice lifting in hopes of being heard by both – “We should not be here.”