There were no timepieces down at the bottom of the sea. No sun dials, no sand trapped inside delicate glass, no little gears working on counting seconds and minutes. It was events of life that dictated time's passage where time didn't really matter that much.
"Last I hunted", "before the Whale died" or "two sleeps ago" were common to use if two creatures came to talking terms. Everything measured their own time and thus could things be quite confusing for the other party to comprehend, but because there was no other way to express the when, no one ever questioned it.
"After the great storm" was how she constantly referred to the events.
After the great storm was when she found a big human holding a little human. The big one was lethally injured, she figured, because the taste of blood was so thick in the water that even the storm had trouble dissolving it. Not too far from them were two ships sinking with many more humans, small and big and slight and wide, all kinds of what she saw. It was an easy feast and of course she took advantage of it, but this human here seemed to still have some life in it. Risk of injury was a real thing and would spell disaster. She would not take it.
Then a great wave claimed the flailing human and it's little human, tossing them up and out of her reach on what she knew as The Cliff.