Wheeling Gull Isle exit music (for a film)

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It had been three days since it had happened. The nightmares wouldn't stop. She woke up screaming, panting, clawing at the ground. The bulging eyes, heaving sides--they were painted onto the ridges of her brain like graffiti, marking her forever. A killer. An angel of death. Finally, a wolf fit for Blackfeather Woods.

So often, now, Maegi paced aimlessly, ignoring all company. Even the wordless presence of Mou was too much. They looked into her gaze, and they would know--know her for an evil girl. Coelacanth would cast her out; she would be homeless once more, tossed into the wind, defenseless. She would never again walk the beaches of Wheeling Gull Isle. And perhaps that was for the best.

It was sunset when she came to her cache, emptying her entire store of poppy seeds. Ten? Twenty? She didn't know, and didn't care. All she wanted, as she trotted through the forest with the leaf-wrapped bundle of poppies, was to not feel. No emotions, no thoughts. Nothing but the opiate haze, pulling her down, silencing the voices that shouted constantly in her head. She wanted nothing more than to slip away for a time, until this madness had finally ended.

She flopped down where the trees faded into the beach, on the west coast, the setting sun turning her ivory coat to flames. She unwrapped the bundle, setting out the seeds. One by one, the little black dots lined up like ants. Then Maegi began to lap them up, almost rhythmically, each lingering for a moment on her tongue before sliding down her throat. She didn't keep track of how many she took, only that it far exceeded the number she had told Mou to avoid--"it makes you wiggly," she'd said.

Well, wiggly she felt now, and more. As the sun bled down, down, down into the waves, so too did she begin to fade, the comforting darkness crushing her. Ah. . .the poppies. Her escape from everything, her one avenue of bliss. It was only when she felt her heartbeat slow dramatically--something she'd never experienced before--and her breathing labor that panic started to creep up her throat, choking her.

Maegi scratched at the sand, a whine bubbling past her ruined lips. She rolled over, the entire world rolling with her. Nothing at all felt normal now, but then, nothing ever had. But this was different. She was falling into a sea that she'd never escape, now, and it would take a miracle for her to break the surface once more.

The Melonii could only hope, deep in the recesses of her brain where rational thought still dwelled, that someone was close enough to hear her desperate squeals.

mou's strength returns to him slowly but surely, infusing reed with confidence in herself -- a confidence she's never lacked but now can be honestly backed up by experience. she is, like mama, like aralez, invaluable to the island, a part of it that could not be removed or ignored. the childishly arrogance bounce to her step becomes more settled, the flippant need to assert herself replaced by a natural swagger that needs no assertation.

all this to say she's still kind of got a big head. and said big head is currently bobbing its way across the shore, looking for a spot to enjoy the sunset (what a charmed life she leads!). said big head is wholly unprepared, however, for the scene that is about to unfold before her.

when she spots maegi she makes her way toward her lazily, mistaking her position at first for relaxation. "fancy company?" the fearghal calls out, the tip of her tail waving against the sand, but then: the way she's positioned doesn't look comfortable at all, it looks.. strange. and then she hears the whining. "maegi," reed says, her voice sharp and scolding over the riding tide of her own panic, taking two steps at a time until she can reach her side. "what's wrong? what happened?" she demands, pressing her head against her chest and feeling the faint, faint heartbeat there. she doesn't recognize the symptoms for what they are -- she's never seen this before! -- and for a moment thinks she must have nearly drowned, only she isn't wet at all -- throwing her head back she calls sharply for @Coelacanth and @Hemlock, desperate for another set of eyes before it's too late.

It was too warm for the boy even with his pale coat, and so when prompted to go for his daily excursion to the hillside to watch the sea, he had flatly refused. The boy had struggled his way to the back of his hovel where he now sprawled, feeling the comfort of the cool stone on his underside. He was drifting in and out of a half-sleep when he spied a flash of white fur who he assumed was Maegi come to give him more medicine. He drifted from that point on—feeling the warm summer winds pass in to the hideaway, listening to the sounds of summertime bugs and birds, relaxing—

Some time later, there was a change in the air. The call was urgent and specific, rousing the boy from his laziness. He recognized the voice as Reed, and also that the message clearly called for help from the medics—and a feeling of dread slipped through him then, settling deep in his bones. He looked around for the pile of seed that he expected Maegi would have left him, but there was nothing. There was a flash of movement as one of the healers bolted away from the boy's hiding place.

He struggled a bit to get to his feet, but managed to find his way out of the hollow by following the wall. Walking hurt but his ribs were mended, so at the very least he could investigate what was going on by himself. It was not wise, but the tension in the air made him try regardless. Mou staggered as he went, feeling the twinge of sharp pain in his lower back every few steps, but he did not stop—the path was clearly marked by the fresh trail of the others, and he was eager to see what the call was about.

As he arrived, he realized he'd gone much further than he'd anticipated. His pain had clouded his sense of time. There was Reed—she cut a sharp figure beside a pale whiteness—and with a sharp gasp he realized that pile of fur was Maegi. Putting strain on himself was not wise but he wasn't thinking. Mou picked up the pace and slouched against the sand nearby once he finally made it over to the two of them—his eye was wide, and he let out a whispering whine— M'gee? 'Gee?? What was wrong with her?

She was boneless and without shape, a pale puddle oozing onto the ground. The waves had slowed to a glacial pace, rippling across the surface of the water endlessly, crashing onto the beach with a dull roar. She felt every one of her heart beats, like an ominous drum, thudding hard against her chest. Every breath was a monumental effort, a mountain to climb.

Russet filled her vision, a prodding at her side. Words reached her ears, but they were far away, and the syllables had no meaning. There was a delicious yet terrifying feeling of release spreading through her body, from nose to toes, moving from leg to leg to leg to damaged leg and through her face, torn so. . .aagggh. . .Skullchaser. . .

A ghost, panic in his. . .eye. Bodies pressed against her--living or dead? The warmth of the sand on her cheek, the only thing still anchoring her to reality. Drool trickled from the corner of her slack mouth; her eyes moved lazily, impassively taking in her surroundings. Every so often, a paw would twitch, and anxiety would prickle at her skin, as if to warn her, to shout--THIS IS NOT NORMAL!

The rain began to fall, fat drops darkening the pale pelt, one by one. She kept her eyes open, looking at the clouds roll inexorably inward. On. . .and. . .on. . .they. . .came. . .and lightning broke the sky in two, suddenly, striking the waves with a fury unbridled. Thunder rumbled, a companion to her slowing heartbeat, and she struggled to suck in gasping breaths as the air filled with the sharp smell of petrichor.

taking some lil liberties to keep the pace, lmk if yall want anything changed <3

oh just what she needs, her wayward patient's presence upping the anxiety. she does not spare him a glance, attention focused instead on the way maegi trembles under her, scanning for -- no broken bones, nothing lodged in her throat, and so -- when @Hemlock arrives her diagnosis is what reed was already guessing. "she needs yarrow," mama says, her well-trained gaze quicker than reed's to assess the situation. reed doesn't need to be told twice; she absconds under the blanket of rain, ignoring the fat drops that pelt her as she makes her way to her cache.

her sprint turns to a gallop with a mouthful of tiny white blooms, the leaves curling at the edges. her nerves are frayed -- what if she is wrong? what if, god forbid, mama is wrong? it's one thing when it's a strange boy half-dead given like a gift, another entirely when it's her friend maegi (her only friend, if we're being honest!) the short journey back to the scene feels like an eternity and then it is all at once not, fragmented moments pieced together by thunder's beat as she and mama work to chew the yarrow into something more manageable, force it down maegi's throat with as much dignity as allowed by the needed frenetic work. they roll her back onto her side, reed pressed close, mama's voice ("i'll grab what else we might need--") distant as she peers anxiously at her friend, a paw tucked against her belly as if she might squeeze out whatever toxins have taken old on the scarred girl.

The diagnosis seems clear to the attending physicians but Mou is still at a loss, and he is left alone with the poor girl as she melts and loses touch with herself. He murmurs his odd sounds, tucks himself as close to her as he thinks he can manage without harming either of them, and is present. He is there, keeping watch over her while the others scurry about in a panic. Mou wishes he could help her in some way. Something more than just lending warmth and the solidity of his still healing body.

He fusses around Maegi and finally is still. His eye doesn't leave her; he is watching, afraid that if he takes his attention away — if he blinks — then Mou will have missed her passing, if such a thing transpires. He whines pitifully, airily, and croons over her, 'Gee, peesh, peesh b-beh oo-ckee, but upon hearing his own voice and the ruined language he tries to employ he grows frustrated and then angrily silent.

The medics return swiftly and Mou won't leave her side, but he adjusts to let them close. He will protect and care for her body as it is stuck in its limbo, it is the least he can do — but he does it in silence.

Her breathing grew more difficult still as something was stuffed into her mouth, shoved down her throat. Maegi gagged, eyes streaming, but eventually was made to swallow, the numb muscles of her esophagus putting up their weakest effort yet. The substance slid down, into her stomach, where her addled system began to process it. Maegi was, of course, unaware of the science, sputtering, licking her lips over and over to rid herself of the vile taste.

Darkness was growing more and more prevalent; whether that was the storm clouds or her own brain shutting down, she didn't know. She couldn't feel a thing, but was only aware of the presence of others, like shadows around her. There was no pain, no noise. Everything was muffled and formless. Even the rain ceased to have temperature or even meaning, and--

The girl lurched suddenly as the yarrow took hold of her system, her stomach convulsing violently. She retched with no results for a moment, then began to vomit, the bile-tinged waste pooling around her muzzle. She was too weak to lift her head; her whole body trembled with the effort of expulsion. It was only when it had ceased that she began to whimper, feeling now, at least distantly, the burning in her throat, the ache in her belly.

She was crying, claws scrabbling for purchase on the sand, at once trying to cling to life and yet slip away again, back into the poppy haze. She teetered farther the right (wrong?) direction on the line between life and death, and as the minutes ticked by, her shuddering began to abate, her whimpers subsiding. Tears and vomitus was her pillow, the ocean her soundscape.

Here she slept, until someone dared to move her. She would have the barest recollection of the night's events come the morning.

anxiously the seconds tick by, reed refusing to think she was a moment too late despite the fear taking root in her. when at last spasms grip maegi's body and she retches, reed could weep for the relief that floods her, but the joy does not last long. there is still work to be done. to mou she snaps "if you're going to stay here, help," as she starts to gently but urgently move maegi out of her own vomit, worried she'll choke on the bile. 

she's clearly out but -- blessedly! -- reed detects the continuing beat of her heart, barely glancing up as mama returns. the herbs are left to the side as the fire-furred pair go to work, not daring to move her to the safety of the den yet until they have fully assessed she is safe to move -- and when that time comes, should mou still be by her side, reed instructs him to carry their herbs as they carry maegi to safety, knowing his body is still too frail to do much else.

There was nothing he could do but be present, and even then it wasn't enough, he knew that. Reed spoke hastily as she returned, and he felt himself wincing at her intonation but not giving up. Maegi had helped him, and whatever was wrong at this point, he would be there for her and she would get better. She had to get better. Had to.

In the end he was delegated the task of carrying the herbs. If that's all he could do, he'd do his very best. But the boy's attention was locked on Maegi and he could feel the adrenaline of his fear pumping cleanly through his veins.