Nothing.
Fuzzy. Muffled. Stifling. Gusts of cold, then warm. A light gray blur. Bright light hidden behind the gray.
The men’s voices sounded far off. The blue sky hidden behind a few clouds slowly came into focus. The smell of stale water and mold penetrated my nostrils.
I blinked a few more times and sat up.
“Gave us quite a scare, Lass!”
The stranger who spoke kept busy coiling a rope. “Been out three days. You are lucky the flag was still attached to that bit you climbed on. You are properly lucky. We saw you right away.”
“Where am I?” I asked. Certainly, I lay on the deck of a ship, but no one walking around looked familiar.
“Fishing vessel,” he answered, still not looking at me, but finishing his coil. “That there is the coast of Lyon.”
“Lyon?” I repeated. Then, I remembered my duty. The storm! The waves, the boat! The screaming, the cold of the water, the darkness. All memories rushed back in a painful torrent. The stranger dropped the coil when I jumped to him.
“Did you find anyone else?” I demanded. I unconsciously grabbed his shirt collar and shook him. “Did you find a young boy?”
His eyes widened by my actions, but he shook his head. “No, Lass. You’re it.”
I released him and collapsed on the splintered deck. He watched me carefully, but kept his distance. “Then,” I muttered, trying to hold back my sobs, “we are all doomed.”
