RVA: The Red Vixen at Sea, Beached

Exhaustion must have overcome her grief and fear, for eventually Melanie fell asleep, rocking in the bunk like a cub in the Mother Goddess’ arms. Which meant when the Windskimmer slammed itself onto the beach of the island shed been aiming for, she was thrown out of bed and onto the cabin’s wet deck. Sputtering and cursing, Melanie got unsteadily to her feet, hauling herself topside.

The sailboat had beached itself on a wide, sandy shore, a nasty grinding sound coming aft as the propellers dug themselves into the white sand. Melanie slapped the shutdown button the console and the sound stopped. Above her head, the sail snapped in the wind. It wasn’t as terrible as before, perhaps limited to five kilometers an hour, and the rain had abated to a steady drizzle. In front of the bow some ten meters up the beach stood a thick forest of tropical fan trees.

( Things go from Worse to Terrible. )