Wheeling Gull Isle stranded

The first thing she experienced was the sound of ocean waves beating against the shoreline. She heard birds overhead, the screech of seagulls, the trilling of smaller birds farther up the beach where the tree line started. Tangy ocean spray stung her nose. The smell of salt and wet sand overwhelmed her. A breeze blew through her fur and she realized she was wet. Parts of her were dry. The fur on her head and neck were dry. Her legs and belly were wet, and the fur along her sides. The breeze on her wet fur was cold. She cracked her eyes open and was blinded by the sun. Her eyes had sand particles stuck in the corners and she blinked hard, many times, trying to clear the stinging itchy feeling.

She stood slowly, her legs unstable. There was a weakness in her body, in her bones, that frightened her. The act of standing for more than a few seconds set her legs to shaking. She was exhausted and starving. She looked out at the ocean surrounding her. There were fish in the ocean… but no. The idea of swimming in the waves frightened her. She vaguely recalled swallowing seawater, her head going under the waves… crawling slowly up the beach. No. She would not go back into the ocean.

She turned and saw a forest behind her. A forest meant food and water. Slowly, one shaky step at a time, she made her way up the beach to the shady trees.

“I tried, Piper,” he uttered in a raspy voice to figure of his sister. She walked beside him, her body having decayed and withered away. Portions of her skeleton were showing, and her flesh had been waterlogged and bloated to the point of distortion. Her eyes were hollow, but they looked on. “We can’t leave the water,” he whispered hoarsely. We belong to her now and forever. As though she had heard him, the ocean roared to life with a massive wave that crashed against the shore and shook his rickety frame. Somehow, he did not fall over. The ghostly pirate turned his head toward his sister’s decaying shape and smiled. It was so nice to have her back with him. Together, he believed they could recreate Ironsea and restore it to its glory.
 
But, Smokestep did not know where he had founded the pirate crew’s pack. He could not remember his time in the Teekon Wilds. He could not remember ever having stepped foot on that land before. So, he traversed the seaside for several hours until his sights had settled on an island off the coast. Glancing toward Sandpiper, the pale figure coughed a wet cough and shook his ragged coat. “Let’s go,” he instructed her in a deadpan tone. The two figures crossed the water without issue, and touched down on the shores of the isle.

A ghostly figure in her periphery gave her pause. Her hackles raised as she whipped her head around to take in the other wolf. A male. White as a ghost. She did not notice that he was talking to himself. He was not charging at her, did not even seem to notice her. She was angry all the same. This was her island. Already she felt territorial about it. She did not know how much food would be on an island, nor what kind. Whatever was there, it was hers and not his. She would fight him over it. She would kill him. She stalked towards him angrily, adrenaline giving her a glimmer of strength. In the back of her mind, she knew the blood-rush would not be enough in a real fight. She would probably just pass out from hunger in the first ten seconds. But she was too angry to care. Angry that the sea had spit her out on this island. Angry that she remembered nothing beyond the storm. This man would be the one she took her anger out on. 

Or she’d just pass out in the sand in about a minute.

It was almost humorous that the same circumstances had brought the two wolves together. They had both been washed ashore with no memory of what had brought them there. They had taken two very different approaches to the happening, though. While the girl was fearful that he was there to take what she believed belonged to her, Smokestep knew that nothing would ever be his again. He belonged to the beast of the water – his soul had been claimed and there was nothing that he could do to restore it.
 
The charging figure should have given him pause, but he looked up quickly at her – ears standing tall atop his ivory crown – and his mismatched eyes were quick to latch onto her own gaze. He could not read the anger that fueled her. “I see her,” he rasped to the decaying image of his sister. Sandpiper seemed to bristle before she sputtered sea water onto the ground. Smokestep chuckled quietly.

The male still did not react to her, at least not very much. Not the way she would have liked. He merely looked at her, and then muttered something too low to make out. She glared and pushed her ears forward aggressively. If he wouldn’t move, she would make him move. “Hey!” she yelled, but her throat was raw from swallowing seawater hours ago and she coughed for a good few seconds before she could regain control of herself. Were she human, she would have blushed bright red at such a misstep. She pulled herself up to her fullest height and glared at him again. “Get off my island! Or… or pledge your loyalty to me if you won’t leave!” The hesitation made her feel awkward. She was only a yearling—one with no memory—and had no idea what she was doing. Not wanting to seem a fool, she just continued glaring, keeping her pale golden eyes directly on his mismatched ones.

The sound of a stranger’s voice shook him. His expression fell to a gaunt scowl as he fixed his sights on the sandy-colored woman. Sandpiper gurgled beside him before she hacked a mouthful of sea water at his feet. Smokestep was unmoved by this. He was more transfixed with the woman making wild demands of a man who was already claimed. The madness swam in his gaze and he took a few rickety steps toward her, drawing his crown upward so that the three jagged scars along his throat were revealed.
 
“Pledge meself to the likes of you? I am already claimed. How dare you presume to believe that you could claim one such as me?” the haggard pirate choked out in a wet coughing voice. His eyes widened and he reeled his head further back before hacking out a cough that sounded like something akin to a trash bag full of water. “Don’t worry, lass… she’ll claim you too,” he finally rasped to her. His dark lips spread like wildfire across his features.

She noted the scars along his neck and a flicker of doubt gave her pause. If he had survived such a wound, surely he would beat her to a pulp if she dared fight him. And besides, she reminded herself once again, she was literally starving and dehydrated. Fighting this… annoyance was not worth it right now. He scoffed at her attempts to get him to pledge his loyalty to her. He said he was already claimed.

Her eyebrows furrowed at this, and she sniffed him. “I don’t smell a pack on you,” she said, eyeing him as if he were lying. Then he said something that chilled her bones. 

’Don’t worry, lass… she’ll claim you too.’

“Who?” she demanded, though the strength had left her voice and she now sounded more like a scared little girl. She looked him over, noted his disheveled form, and thought of ghosts. She was scaring herself, something she couldn’t afford to do now. She could not show weakness. This was still her island. “Who?” she demanded again, her voice stronger now, even and unwavering. Whoever it was, she’d be sure to keep them away from her. No one would claim her. No one.

’I don’t smell a pack on you.’
 
The pirate laughed at her with a wide-open mouth and jagged yellow fangs glinting in the sunlight from overhead. His laugh was raspy and wicked sounding, as though it should not have naturally come from within him. As if Smokestep could have been contained and held down by the confines of a simple pack. She was so foolish for having thought that this was what he’d meant. To laugh was all that he could do. There were no words for the humor that he found in that scenario.
 
“The keeper of the trench,” he answered her with a wild glint in his single bloody red optic. “Isn’t that right, Piper?” he then turned to his right, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. It was as though he was talking to someone right beside him, but the only thing that actually occupied that space was a great stretch of beach and sea. He could see her, though. He could see Sandpiper and the keeper of the trench. They were always with him.

Round 1/3
Attack: 11/20 (Discord)

His laughter disturbed her greatly and, despite her attempts to be tough, she took a step back from him, as if she’d catch some kind of disease from standing too close. She watched him laugh as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. The laughter seemed… unhinged.

‘The keeper of the trench,’ he said. That made no sense to her, though she got a foreboding sense from it. It was what he said next that truly frightened her. ‘Isn’t that right, Piper?’ He turned to look at… something. Someone. Someone he thought was there. But there was no one. The beach was empty, except for the two of them. He was insane. And now she had a choice to make.

She could run from him, but if she ran, he would probably attack her. Even if she got away for a while, they were on an island. He would catch up to her eventually, or find her wherever she hid.

She could fight him, but if she fought him, she might die. She grimaced. If she ran and he caught up with her, she would die just the same, and would end up fighting him first, anyways. So. Fight now. Get it over with. Possibly live. 

All of these thoughts had flashed by in her mind in a manner of a few seconds, long enough for the pause to be awkward, but not too long. She realized immediately that if she would have any chance of survival, she needed to attack him now, when he wasn’t expecting it.

In a flash, she went for his muzzle, snapping at his face, biting down on his nose. It was a good bite, but not as strong as she would have liked…

She’s going to attack you, brother… Sandpiper gurgled at him. You’d better be quick!
 
The pale pirate laughed again, throwing his head back and looking to the skies with wide eyes. The sandy stranger hadn’t even said anything. Perhaps she knew the keeper of the trench. Perhaps she already belonged to the beast beneath the swell too. When he pulled his sights away from the heavens and focused them back on the stranger, he could see the discomfort there. He loved the way that her eyes darted as she tried to decide her best method of action.
 
She opted for an attack. Internally, the pale ghost cursed his sister for knowing it was coming before it had actually happened. He would deal with Sandpiper later on. In that moment, his mindset was occupied by the bold attempt to take him by surprise.
 
The woman darted forward swiftly and aimed with a few precise attacks for his muzzle. Several of them met their mark. Her teeth cut into the flesh of his nose and the bridge of it. Smokestep wheezed out a savage laugh in response. The pain was electric to him – it fueled him. The ghostly figure did not hesitate in attempted to use the full force of his own body to shove her into the sand. He wanted to knock her down. He wanted to see the fear across her face as he climbed on top of her.

Wow I was trying to write this for like an hour and this all that came out. Wow.
Round 2/3
Attack: 4/20 (Discord)

She was immediately knocked to the ground. Her arrogance whooshed out of her with her breath and she hit the sand. He was climbing on top of her now. She could feel his body on her, feel his hot breath. She panicked and tried to throw him off, but she was so weak. Her limbs felt like lead, her head swam. Already, she was losing this fight. She bucked and snapped her teeth to no avail. Her heart sank. She was going to die. It was not fair. She’d survived the sea’s wrath, the anger of the storm, the waves that had grabbed at her and dragged her down. She had survived all that. Now she would be killed by a raving wolf, her own kind. All because of her own stupidity.

The waves crashed against the shore as his body slammed against her own. He hurt himself in the action, but the pain was something that no longer prevented him from overextending himself. The pale creature had survived the trench and the depths of the sea. He had found her sister and saved her from the dangerous swell. Smokestep did not believe that he could be stopped after having done such things. He was a pirate, after all. There was nothing that could prevent him from doing what he had come to do.
 
The stranger struggled beneath him. Her limbs felt weak against his body. The wild-eyed ghost was still tired of her trying to fight him off. The kick of her legs and the snapping of her jaws was distracting when he was hoping to subdue her. She nicked his cheek in a panicked bite. Smokestep snapped his teeth back in response and felt them clack together and bite into his own tongue. He spit blood before aiming a savage chomp at her shoulder.

Round 3/3
Attack: 15/20 (Discord)

A ragged scream pierced the air as the ghost bit into her shoulder. It was a deep wound. It would leave a scar. She would limp for days as it healed. Perhaps she would limp for life. The drawing of her own blood, the feeling of the deep puncture wounds, gave her a rush of adrenaline she didn’t know she had. Despite her starvation, despite her parched throat, she gave another scream, one of rage and pain and power, and went for his throat (specifically the side of his neck). Fuck him! Fuck the ocean! Fuck this island! He had given her a wound she would live with for life, but to do that, she needed to live. And she would. She would not let this lunatic kill her. This was not how she was meant to go. She put as much strength she could into her jaws (assuming the bite landed) and shook him like a dog shaking a chew toy. Now there was a madness in her own pale golden gaze. Her eyes were rolling and there was a deep growl in her chest.

The scream did not deter him. Instead, the pale beast seemed to delight in the fright that radiated from the sandy-colored woman. Surely, the keeper would be pleased that he had found someone so full of spirit and energy. The fire that coursed through her veins was enough. She lunged at him, aiming a wild snap of her fangs at the side of his neck. She was successful in finding a small purchase there, but not enough to keep a hold. It was just enough to tear into his tender flesh and send a spurt of dark red across his pale coat. She shook her head and tore again, but the ravishing of his own mortal body was not a concern of his. Smokestep had faced far worse in his time away from the wilds.
 
With a deathly wheeze from the back of his throat, the pirate aimed to snap his teeth against her muzzle. His intention was to close her mouth – to keep it shut – so that he could prepare to send her to the keeper. The blood from the gash that she had created leaked down his neck and stained his pale cloak in the deepest of reds. Somehow, he did not seem to care.

She had bitten him and shaken him and could taste blood in her mouth, yet he just kept coming at her, like he was unstoppable. She wouldn’t be able to kill him—she knew that now. He would kill her, surely. Nothing she did seemed to have any affect on him. He closed his jaws over her muzzle and she could not escape the grasp now. She was far too tired to even try. She would be dead in the next few seconds, anyways. She could see nothing beyond the jaws surrounding her muzzle, so she let her eyes closed. She was so tired… So tired…

So…

With a sigh, she passed out as he continued to grip her muzzle in his jaws. Her time in the ocean, tumbled about by the waves for who knew how long, seemed to have finally caught up with her. And if one did not look closely for the rise and fall of her chest, she would seem dead, rather than simply passed out.

Exit Strand! Feel free to do whatever as long as there’s no maiming or injuries that would have had to have been mentioned by now since I’ve had too many threads after this one.