an Origin

     Theokleia awoke with a desperate, strangled gasp that immediately turned into a series of wracking coughs, each violent compress of her ribcage expelling a stream of water from her mouth. Her limbs jerked, paws scrabbling for a surface, while her mind reeled in a swirl of darkness, pain, and chaos; she knew only the instinct for survival. A pressure began at her throat as she thrashed, causing her to struggle more furiously, until - nearly at her limit - it released with a thunderous ‘crack!’ Her body plummeted a short distance before colliding with the ground, leaving her stunned and panting. She didn’t move.

    It took time (seconds, minutes - unknown) to rebuild her consciousness; navigating through the assault on her senses was even more difficult. She was injured, that much was evident, and while she was bruised and battered, none of her limbs were broken. Her muscles screamed with every breath. The air was wet and salty, stinging her flesh where it was torn. Her fur was damp and cold. Sand clung to her nostrils. The sky was dark and cloudy, lit only by a few stars and a shadowed waning moon. Water lapped against a shore in a rhythmic hum; the sound enveloped her. Her mind groped about for an explanation but found none, still hazy. Move, something deep and primal inside of her urged. She knew she had to, but the thought of the daunting task was enough to elicit an audible groan. Move. Theokleia reluctantly obeyed, turning first to her stomach before heaving forward into a sitting position, propping herself up on whatever was immediately near. Her lips thinned, jaws clenching to hold back a cry.

    The night yawned, and the sea sounded endless.  Her thoughts drifted aimlessly and she struggled not to fall asleep. Somewhere, she knew she had a concussion. The rough, solid feeling at her back made her wonder what she was leaning against: the side of a giant driftwood tree, with arching limbs broken in the pattern of her fall. Her eyes narrowed in question, brows furrowing in tandem to a down-turned twist of her lips. She remembered… she remembered… A shiver wracked her shoulders, consuming the whole of her attention. Move. Yes, she needed to move. She needed shelter. She needed warmth. In a daze, she pushed herself onto all four of her paws and swung her gaze opposite the ocean.  

    Swaying unsteadily, she took a step and tried to find the strength to take another one. She did, and then the process began anew.