Waves pounded and thrashed, and they brought forth a wolf, tumbling her to the edge of the sand. Broken pieces of wood washed up around her. The gray woman, the color of a stormy sky, lay still. All of a sudden she began to cough, pulling herself up to stumble across the beach, to the rocks, through the sand-to face the man who sat on the earth. Her eyes, the color of chocolate, gazed at him. She choked the last of the seawater out of her lungs and spoke to him.
“I am Marella, sailor of the sea. What is this place? Where am I? Who are you?” she asked carefully, spacing out her basic questions. She darted her eyes around the beach. The lady carefully selected her steps based on clear sand. The wreckage around her was proof of the contraption she’d built alone-a “raft”, something that humans had been using around the place where she lived. Her pack, a sea establishment and true sailors at heart, had decided to try to use these. She had no capability of tying things like the humans did, but had rather taken two boards, left over by the humans, and held them together with her body as she sailed off. But a flash of bright light had seared her eyelids, and plunged her into an ocean. She was here now. Wherever here was.
She examined the handsome male. Marella’s suspicious mind pulled in the black fur, his piercing eyes. They looked white. She stared him down.
An island. Her heritage. Marella had been raised at sea. Her mind worked a dozen miles a minute. Had fate brought her here? Destiny? If so, why?

“I’ll pull you in like the waves of the sea . . .”