It was worse than she'd thought.

His eyes were glazed, his mind fractured; the man was almost looking through her rather than at her, and Valeska didn't know what the symptoms of a brain-bleed were so she could only assume the end was not long coming.

Struggling against his side, she pressed against the stranger (likely to his delight) in a bid to get him moving, but Valeska's paws sank fruitlessly into the sand as her efforts yielded little more than a half inch's worth of work. He was no better off now than before she had discovered him here.

Yet by the Five, she would not quit.

Valeska rallied herself to somehow try and half-drag, half-carry the wolf next, but before she could loop herself beneath his forelimbs a new voice cut through the wind and the fog and uttered only one word: Jorma.

In an instant the newcomer had swept to their side as a string of incomprehensible phrases fell from his lips, and Valeska could not recognize their origin.

His presence stirred the injured fellow back to something close to awareness, head lolling to the side as his wandering eyes eventually found their target.

Well, you are lucky to have found each other here, she said, Some arrive with only their own names; why, it is sometimes that even memories are left behnd.

Valeska thought of Gwyn, then, one of the original five who had founded Elysium all those years ago - he had never made the leap at all, trapped a world away and whose fate would remain ever unknown.

Raiyuk - if that is your name - the silver wolf then motioned toward his dazed, waterlogged friend - We must get him up the cliff to dry land; I can show you an easier way. Can you help him stand?