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Note: The is the last of the old material, suitably altered for the change in location. I'm still on the fence about the amnesia subplot. It's probably one of the sillier Romance cliches out there, and medically unlikely, but I'm also rather fond of the possibilities it allows.
* * *
Exhaustion overcame her grief and fear, and eventually Melanie fell asleep, rocking in the bunk like a cub in the Mother Goddess’ arms. That meant when the Windskimmer slammed itself onto the beach of the island she’d been aiming for, she was thrown out of bed and onto the cabin’s deck, still wet from water sloshed into it from the storm. 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, stopping the motors and the awful sound. Above her head, the sail snapped in the wind, now reduced to much more sensible five kilometers an hour, while the rain had abated to a steady drizzle. In front of the bow, some ten meters up the beach, stood a thick forest of trees with fan shaped leaves.
Going by the computer map, the island was perhaps three kilometers long and two wide, rising to an elevation of fifty meters at its highest point. A notation in the system didn’t even give it a name, just a numeric navigation designation and a note with its place on the list of places requiring ground exploration.
Melanie shook herself, flinging wet, salty droplets from her fur. Then she headed up to the bow, releasing the anchor winch and hauling both anchor and chain up the beach, until she could wrap the chain around the thickest tree she could find and jamming the anchor into the sandy ground, securing the boat firmly. By the time she had finished and made her way back to the Windskimmer, the storm had ended, the wind and rain dying down completely.
She hauled herself back up onto the boat, her gait ironically unsteady and swaying now that the deck was still. Plopping herself down on the bench, Melanie considered her options. A sailboat carrying the Governor General’s brother and sister-in-law disappears in a storm, she thought. They’ll be searching for us. But how soon?
They had only been three days into their fortnight trip, with no specific destination planned. She hadn’t seen Rolas checking in with anyone on the com the entire time they’d been out. Would the search be delayed until the week was up? Longer even? She mentally added another two days to allow for worry to build up in Salli’s mind. Then she added another week to allow for Rolas’ youthful habit of remaining at sea for a month or more at a time. Then she started thinking about Rolas’ body sinking beneath raging waves and began sobbing again.
( Damage Control )
* * *
Exhaustion overcame her grief and fear, and eventually Melanie fell asleep, rocking in the bunk like a cub in the Mother Goddess’ arms. That meant when the Windskimmer slammed itself onto the beach of the island she’d been aiming for, she was thrown out of bed and onto the cabin’s deck, still wet from water sloshed into it from the storm. 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, stopping the motors and the awful sound. Above her head, the sail snapped in the wind, now reduced to much more sensible five kilometers an hour, while the rain had abated to a steady drizzle. In front of the bow, some ten meters up the beach, stood a thick forest of trees with fan shaped leaves.
Going by the computer map, the island was perhaps three kilometers long and two wide, rising to an elevation of fifty meters at its highest point. A notation in the system didn’t even give it a name, just a numeric navigation designation and a note with its place on the list of places requiring ground exploration.
Melanie shook herself, flinging wet, salty droplets from her fur. Then she headed up to the bow, releasing the anchor winch and hauling both anchor and chain up the beach, until she could wrap the chain around the thickest tree she could find and jamming the anchor into the sandy ground, securing the boat firmly. By the time she had finished and made her way back to the Windskimmer, the storm had ended, the wind and rain dying down completely.
She hauled herself back up onto the boat, her gait ironically unsteady and swaying now that the deck was still. Plopping herself down on the bench, Melanie considered her options. A sailboat carrying the Governor General’s brother and sister-in-law disappears in a storm, she thought. They’ll be searching for us. But how soon?
They had only been three days into their fortnight trip, with no specific destination planned. She hadn’t seen Rolas checking in with anyone on the com the entire time they’d been out. Would the search be delayed until the week was up? Longer even? She mentally added another two days to allow for worry to build up in Salli’s mind. Then she added another week to allow for Rolas’ youthful habit of remaining at sea for a month or more at a time. Then she started thinking about Rolas’ body sinking beneath raging waves and began sobbing again.
( Damage Control )
