Aryel's exhausted, dreamless slumber might have gone on through the rest of the day had something not poked her in the ribs, followed closely after by a monotone, feminine voice. Brows drew together at the disturbance as her consciousness slowly limped its way to the surface, and a slurred, unintelligible murmur came in response to the unseen speaker's question. She forced her eyes open, blinking away the sting of saltwater, and raised her head from the damp sand. Searching for the source of the voice and the prodding, she looked about, wincing at the throbbing headache the action caused. A set of dainty hooves were the first things to come into focus, and as she craned her head up, the rest of the horse came into view. Lanky and athletic, she had coloring similar to herself, but where Aryel's banding and mane was dark, this horse's accents were snowy white.
The other had asked her a question, and it took her a moment to gather up her scattered wits. "I think I am." She was up and talking, after all. The stocky girl stretched out a leg and dug one hoof into the sand. She attempted to rise, only to sink back down with hiss of pain because holy shit everything hurt. There was no sharp-gut wrenching pangs that would have signified a broken bone anywhere, thank the gods for that, but her muscles felt like someone had beaten her half to death with a tree branch, then come back and kicked her for good measure. "I feel like death warmed over, though." she said through gritted teeth, trying to adjust her position and lay in a way that didn't hurt so damn much. It didn't help a whole lot, and she was covered in sand and saltwater, but at least she was starting to get some blood pumping back into her battered limbs. She looked back up at the other, studying her with more wariness than before. "...Am I dead?" Maybe she hadn't survived the storm after all. If that was the case, though, this was a pretty crummy introduction to the afterlife. This mare didn't look much like a spirit at any rate. She would have expected more halos and harps, not the look of profound disinterest that currently graced her striped face.
