Mara got up from the floor, her legs somewhat shaky from the position the rope had held them in all night.  After a moment, she regained her balance and walked over to one of the remaining walls, carefully skirting the blood and debris.  Leaning against it, she looked down at herself to access her condition.  Her dusky grey skin was flecked with white salt, which she absently began to brush off.  Some had gotten in the small cut on her shoulder, which stung, but it was bearable.  On the other hand, the piece of wood that had done that had as good as ripped off the sleeve of her lightweight tunic.  Her cloak had fared somewhat better, only having a hole that could fit two fingers in it.  Both of those, as well as her the wide-legged trousers, were as caked with salt as her skin.  She was parched, and rather hungry, but she didn't seem to have any other injuries.  All in all, she could have fared much worse, she thought, looking at the handful of corpses that had not been washed out with the tide.<br/><br/>Mara knew she had to leave the sheltering of the ship behind if she wanted to live. Gripping the wolf tooth she had used to escape the rope in one hand and pulling the hood of her cloak as far forward as it would go with the other, to try and shield her eyes from the sun, she made her way to the hole in the back wall and looked out.