You guys are probably gonna kill me since I'm already working on Absolute Altitude, and a visual novel game: Companion's Hand, but this idea absolutely will not leave me. So like I rotated updating on some of my other Cid/Shera fanfictions, this one will (hopefully) briefly rotate with Absolute Altitude.
The inspiration is a little Nintendo DS game called Lost in Blue, of which, I still have with me. The game has such an atmosphere to it that I really can't describe.
So for this fragmented fanfiction, we'll be merging two good games together into a good ol' fashioned Ship Wrecked AU. Cid and Shera are going to be on fresh clean slate. So, let's start from a somewhat new beginning.
Enjoy
Day 1
I.
It seemed like, a dark figure maybe, was passing in and out of the thin crack of his eyelids. Cid felt he should have been deeply, deeply concerned outwardly, just as much as it was building inwardly with the resurfacing of his consciousness. He just, couldn't bring himself to muster the energy, so he laid there (wherever there was) for a while after somewhat remembering he existed.
"CAW CAW!"
A bird.
…
"CAW CAW!"
A seagull?
The thin crack of his eyes slowly opened more. There was a thicket of broad leaves swaying lazily above his head. The brightness of an evening sun, through the stippling of shade, stung in the salt-water reddened corners of his eyes. He finally gathered the energy to shift his jaw, and found the uncomfortable grain of sand clinging to his neck and shoulders.
Cid became aware of himself just enough to feel the cold rush of the shoreline bubbling up, and consuming his ankles in sloshing swallows. The exposed portions of his arms itched, probably bug bites, and stung from however long the sun had had its way with him, after the sea chewed him up in the disaster of night and spat him out.
"CAW CAW!"
"Wouldja' shut up?" He croaked. Cid ignored salt stinging in the small cuts to his hand, and then pulled himself up to have a blurred look around.
Shoreline. Even more shoreline. A stacked cliff, and then a dense wall of green that probably lead into more of the unknown.
Fuck.
He was lost. Wasn't he?
II.
Cid was no old man, but his fatigue had him walking with a limp. He was hot, and cold, thirsty, starving, in pain, itchy, and he was absolutely lost without a clue as to what he should do. And dammit, he was a trained individual. With the waves having tossed around his body, and apparently his mind, all he could think to do was to assess what he had.
He dug around in pockets first and uncovered an absolutely ruined carton of soggy cigarettes, and a lighter that he was surprised was still functioning. He also had his pocket knife, an allen wrench, his keys, and a just as water logged, absolutely fuckin' useless now, cell phone.
Digging around the sand in his general area rewarded him with his jacket, which hopefully had more useful items, and then his goggles. Aside from that...nothing else.
Nothing else, so he limped to the other side of the shore for something to finally strike a chord.
He didn't find his survival instincts yet, but to his surprise, he did find another person.
III.
He really hoped she wasn't dead. A "Hey?" or two earned him no response. Carefully, Cid lowered down and took the woman's wrist and felt for a pulse. To his relief, there was something there.
"Hey?" The Captain shook her this time; both stinging hands firmly on her upper back. With a distressed moan, she finally stirred.
IV.
He, and Shera (that's what she told him her name was) trekked wearily down the length of the shore until they came to a small cove of jagged cliffs. She was quiet, Cid decided, but she appeared to be more held together than he did at the moment.
They were both dazed on the details of how they found themselves here, but decided it was more important to piece together what they were going to do at the very moment.
Something told Cid she was probably knowledgeable of the ocean, because she took note of the tempering of the tide as the sun began to face. The beach, in light of the season, was not a good place to dock themselves for the next plan of action. She mumbled on about high-tides and storms on small islands. Unpredictable rises and falls, he surmised.
"We should find some water maybe?" Cid rubbed a bruise set deep into the aching flesh of his shoulder. Water that would do as a decent drinking source was step number one, he recalled that much.
"That would be smart." Shera was fretfully nursing the broken arm of her glasses. Cid was relieved to see she had a bag while watching her sift her hands through the pockets for a miniature repair kit. Maybe she had some other useful items, too.
Cid heavily sighed and scratched the sand from the stubble of his chin. "Y'think if we follow that run-off feed over there between those cliffs, it'll lead us to a stream?"
Shera was silent for just a moment. Her worried eyes were very deep in thought. "I…hope?" She glanced up, begging the sun to stick around a little longer. "We should see before it gets too dark." The clouds out in the distance, as irrelevant as they seemed from afar, could be a formidable storm in a matter of days. She didn't want to think that they were going to be stranded here for long, but even she knew the thought was probably naive.
V.
The last shreds of orange where disappearing in thin ribbons. Every now and again, Shera would glance up over the breaks in thick, tropical canopy to gauge how much light they had left. Just as she was beginning to feel as anxious as she should have been earlier, the distinct rush and babble of a river provided her momentary relief.
Instinctively, Shera followed her new default companion to a safe perch. Squinting, as it was almost dark, she stuck her hand in at the safest bank. It was cool, and the mist that rose didn't smell of anything stagnant. Almost startling her, she felt scales graze her knuckles and discovered that there were plenty of fish.
Eagerly, she cupped a generous amount of the water in her hands and lifted it to relive the dryness in her throat.
"Wait." Cid clasped her shoulder. His eyes were stern.
"What's wrong?" Shera lowered.
"Might have worms." He looked up to the horizon as she had a moment ago, and then he took another long gander for what was in the area. It was hard to make out in the near dark, but there was a break in the incline of the island, right past a thick grove of what appeared to be coconut trees.
"Looks like there's some coconuts around, so we'll just have to eat n' drink those until we can figure out how to boil the water. Y'see that there?" Cid pointed to the break he had noticed; it was starting to look like more of a pocket to hide in now.
"Ahh…" Shera slowly stood to her feet. She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her yellow sweater. Even though she had it on, she was starting to feel cold. "I see it." It was another small relief.
"We'll park our asses there for the night, and tryn' figure all of this out."
Day 2
I.
The waves crashed in Cid's ears like the lingering rasp of a nightmare. He could remember hitting his back over the metal rail of the deck, before feeling the sharp sting of the ocean's surface after plummeting overboard.
The smoke of the engine fire still filled his nostrils.
But it wasn't the engine, it was the remnants of the fire he'd made last night.
II.
"You sure we couldn't'a stayed on the beach last night?" Cid's back had already been through enough. He figured, sleeping on the sand would have been much more forgiving.
Shera had just trotted through the opening of their small hide-away; carrying a thick bundle of foraged sticks, twigs, and two robust, yellow coconuts in her arms. "I'm sure. I had a look, where we were is flooded this morning. It probably will be for quite some time."
She dumped the fire fuel down in a corner of the cave, and then sat on the hard, dirt floor across from him. "Hungry?" Shera tossed one of the fruits, and Cid lazily caught it in his hands.
"Starvin'." He took out his pocket knife, and was pleased to see that Shera also kept around a blade. That reminded him.
"What all ya got over there?" He tipped his chin in the direction of her bag. Cid stabbed an upright hole into the coconut first, and then lifted it to his lips to heavily drink from it. He really didn't like coconut, but this was a hell of a reason not to care. As soon as the liquid was gone, he carved it open and bit out the flesh.
Shera stabbed a likewise hole, and could hardly talk around her own deep sips. "In my bag? Let me see…"
Thoughtfully, she propped the book bag open and unearthed two small tool kits (one for her glasses, another for small general repairs), an empty half liter vitamin water bottle, a small first aid box, her cell phone (which was also useless), some make-up, hair-ties, marina motel matches, a box of mushy granola bars, and plenty of wet and wrinkled composition books.
"It's not much." She lopsidedly frowned.
"It'll probably help." Cid reached out for the water bottle, took it from Shera, and tapped the surface with his finger. It was glass.
"Actually, this can help right now." It was a decently sized bottle, and it appeared thick enough to be held over a flame. They could get away with boiling some water in this.
With a grunt, Cid stood to his feet. Better do it now while he had something in his stomach.
"Where are you going?" Shera anxiously asked; tugging on the pocket of his green trousers as he passed by.
"I'm gonna head to the stream and fill this up. I'll heat it up over the fire, n' hopefully we'll have some clean enough water."
"I'll come with you."
III.
At first, Cid didn't know what the hell she thought she was doing.
After traveling back with Shera to the bank, he washed his face and chest free of (most) of the sand from the beach, and then selected another portion of the bank to fill the bottle with. The next time he looked up, she was carefully tipped over the edge; almost shoulder deep in currently mellow river water.
Afraid she was going to tumble on in, Cid snapped up and hastily trotted over to snag her by her britches. Of course, before he could do so, Shera snapped herself up.
Grunting with exertion, she tossed a hefty looking river bass right up onto the grass, where it hopefully couldn't flip-flop back into the current.
"Woman?!" The Captain's mouth gaped open in absolute surprise. He held his hand over his heart, stared at her, and then the fish that had finally stilled.
"Where the hell you gotta be from to catch shit like that, with your hands?!"
"I'm from some place like this, Sir."
Day 3
I.
It was fish and fruit again for dinner, like it had been the night and morning before. It was hot and unseasoned, but at least it was a decent amount of food.
The flicker of the fire warmed Shera's face while she ate in small bites. To think, what they had, had taken most of the day to claim from the river and the grove out before their hiding place. She still felt just as drained as she had the evening they'd both washed up on the shore, but again, at least they had something.
"So…where'd you say you were from again?" Cid added a few more thickly barked sticks to the flame, sat back in his place, and met her eyes. The fire licked and snapped in the salt water reflection of his irises. It took her a little while to process the question. She was so caught in how deeply blue they were.
"I'm…" Shera wiped her mouth. "I'm from the Sister Islands. They're all heavily inhabited. This place, though…I've never seen it before. I hardly recognize some of the things growing here."
"Least you know what's up from down in this sorta terrain. I live somewhere way up north. A lot colder, too, with mountains." Cid took another fillet from the fire and picked out a spare bone. It was bitter sweet; all the effort it took to catch it, clean it, cook it, and he wolfed it down in no time at all.
A short silence passed. Shera tucked some of her hair behind her ear. "Do you…know what happened? If we might find someone else?"
Cid knew what she was asking. "All I saw was fire and smoke. Next thing I know, I'm here."
Shera nodded her head. She only knew the same.
"I haven't seen anyone sides you." Cid licked his fingers. "Maybe there's something else here if we can manage to look around."
She nodded again. It was understood, that an expedition of the island was something they would have to work up to. Shera stuffed the rest of her food in her mouth, dusted off her hands, and then took a good survey of their 'living space' for the first time since they found it.
"What are we supposed to do until then?" Shera tapped the flooring of the closed space with the tip of her steel toe boot. It was too hard for sleeping, but not hard enough to be classified as stone. She bent down to feel it over with her hand; finding some spots dusty, even dig-able if she applied enough force with her fingers. Hopefully it wasn't the firelight, but there was a red tint to it, like perhaps it was hard clay.
The slanting of stones off to the back wall could probably be used for…something. They'd figure it out in time, as dreadful as a long term stay sounded.
"We'll just have to take er' a day at a time. I know the first thing you and I need, is somethin' better to sleep on, and some real damn food. Not that any of this ain't good." Cid tossed his jacket over his shoulders. He was watching her pace about the small space, investigating every nook and cranny.
"But," He continued "y'know, if we really wanna make some progress, we need some protein. I hear all kinds of somethin' durin' the day and night, so I bet ya there's somethin' worth hunting down."
"So…tomorrow?"
"Just take a better look around this area, and hopefully start on some damn 'home improvement'. That sound like a plan?"
Another immense comfort. "Sounds like a plan, sir."
Day 7
I.
Cid had spent most of his day inside, whittling down the end of somewhat limber branch into a fine point. If there's one thing he knew how to do, it was how to throw a spear. Being that he didn't have one, he had to resort to crafting one. He didn't have much time to edge down a rock, or any sort of twine (he doubted his shoe laces would be strong enough) to bind it, so just the wood itself would have to do.
"That's looking good." Shera's hair was frizzed with humidity when she returned. She closed the opening of the cave with the large, currently yellowed, long leaves they had placed there as a partition from the outside.
Cid glanced up at her, wiping thick beads of sweat from her brow, and then her bundled sweater. He wondered why she was using it as a container, instead of her bag, but realized in one glance that that was full as well.
"I'm hoping I'll stick a wild hog with it." Cid's brows mischievously rose. "I noticed some mowed up ground lookin' for firewood yesterday. The way they tear up land with their tusks is unmistakable." When he was satisfied with the cut of the wood, Cid snapped his knife into the sheath, and then stuck it in one of his pants pockets.
Shera's brow furrowed. She placed both her filled sweater, and her book bag down on the floor. "Aren't they a little aggressive?" Shera removed the day's forage from her bag first. More sticks for the fire, unpeeled leechie berries, some roots he didn't recognize, their refilled water bottle, and some more large, soft leaves to replace the ones that had browned over their flooring.
"They're fuckin' mean, is what they are. We'll be set for a good while if I can harpoon one, though."
"Interesting you should mention…" Shera hummed. The smile on her face was pleasant as she began to untie the sleeves of her sweater.
"Ta da~" surrounded by a big pile of harvested shellfish, was an even bigger, white, stone rock. She had to hold it up carefully with both hands. It must have been heavy, because it was jagged and about as big as her head.
Cid blinked once, then twice
…
What the hell was it?
Shera must have registered his confusion, because she sputtered, and folded her legs over her place on the floor to further elaborate.
"It's salt, silly."
"You sure 'bout that?"
"I'm absolutely positive."
Day 8
I.
He really caught one, Shera almost didn't believe it.
Cid had dragged the boar all the way back from the very far acre of the grove. The deep wound where the spear had pierced it was thickly dripping. She could see it there; a crimson trail in the moonlight.
The Captain, she decided to call him by his occupation since he had informed her, had a rather broad and weary grin on his face. Triumphant and very satisfied with the night's work.
She guessed now they would have to let their victim drain, and then cut it up. Shera was visibly nauseous, and Cid was afraid she might have been squeamish. But, it wasn't that.
They were going to have to spend hours gutting an entire hog with a couple of already suffering pocket knives. Wasn't it already late?
II.
It must have been five or six am, because the sun was stretching for the morning when they finished.
They settled on using the salt to preserve at least some of what they cooked. All of the meat was wrapped up in bundles of washed leaves until it was ready to be eaten over the next couple of days.
Rewarded with full stomachs, and the air cooled by the oncoming of a storm, they both said 'goodnight' at the unreasonable time of eight in the morning, and slept well into the evening.
Day 15
I.
Wet clay had caked between her fingers and beneath her nails. Shera vaguely remembered how to do this. At least, with the way the rain was coming down, she didn't have to worry about traveling far to re-moisten her progress, and the padding of sand beneath the leaves she slept on added enough grit to the make-shift mixture.
She had figured, the packed clay on the inside of the cave was enough to make some more containers for water. Maybe even a few carrying pots if there was enough. The single glass bottle they had was not optimal. It felt like it was so long ago that she'd taken an extracurricular pottery class, but it really wasn't. She was planning to be an engineering intern when things had gone up in flames.
With a sigh, Shera tried not to dwell on it. The memory of it all made her hands shake. She didn't want to think of the god awful sound of the explosion, the deck splitting, who might have been lost. How everyone at home might have assumed she was lost as well.
Swallowing down stinging in her throat, Shera rolled out another coil to the base of the bottle she was making, tightened the rim in progress, and then smoothed the edges for the next layer. She glanced over the fire, finding that Captain Highwind was still sound; sleeping off the heavy rain and thunder.
He…must have been a mentor on board. She couldn't imagine him being a student. He looked too old. Seemed too knowledgeable. He said that he was a Captain, after all. Maybe that's why she trusted this stranger so blindly. At times, it unnerved Shera how confident he was, how he wasn't inclined to mope much at all.
She didn't know how to feel about him, and for the time being, neither were good at making too much conversation. Well, aside from the Here's What We Need to Do Now.
Shera gazed until she didn't really see him. His eyes had been open for quite some time now, but she was too intrigued by the concept of him to notice.
II.
"Somethin' on my face, gal?"
"N-no, I was just thinking."
Day 21
I.
"So, I was thinkin'…" Cid rapped his knuckle against the thick bottom of a fully baked pot after it had spent an extra day cooling off. The firm, hollow sound it made was satisfying to the ear. He was glad it had been raining, otherwise, the temperature inside of the cave would have been unbearable while all of the fresh containers were cooking.
"Thinking about what?" Shera was examining a bottle; blowing through the top to make sure she hadn't left any holes were water could leak.
Cid brushed his thumb over a few of Shera's fingers prints left on the gritty surface. "That now'd be a good time to start lookin' for what else might be here. We can take some water with us." He placed the pot down next to its siblings. "Got some food, and some energy."
Shera was unsure of the idea. She'd already become accustomed to the familiarity, and security of where they were already. "Wouldn't it be better to maybe, find a place that could hold a signal fire?" Like the beach, given the right timing. It could take some extended waiting for the tides to recede.
The Captain seemed to consider it, but she could tell by the look in his eye, that his gut was telling him otherwise. "If we run outta luck, it's our Plan B. I've been lookin', believe me." He went on. "And I ain't yet to see a boat, or blinkin' lights in the sky. And if somethin's come and gone without us knowin', then we're just some unlucky mother fuckers."
"I guess we are…" Shera inhaled the scent of earth that whisped in through the curtain of leaves shielding them from the pelting outside. She pushed up her glasses, and wiped beneath her eyes.
II.
"Hey…" The Captain, starling her with how timidly he approached, sat down next to Shera's side and placed a comforting hand on her back. He was unsure if she was accepting of this sort of comfort, and he wasn't all that good at giving it, but she didn't appear to object.
"We're gonna be alright. Made it this damn far..."
The touch was all she needed to downpour. Shera wept like the rain into the warmth of Cid's side.
Hell, they both cried.
Day 23
I.
The rain had finally subsided, leaving the sky partly cloudy and the ground spongy. It made good for venturing out before the balm of the sun returned, but not so good for collecting dry materials. Because absolutely nothing was dry.
The river rushed far too quickly to fish, and no huntable wild life except for elusive birds had crawled out from their burrowing places. That left them with hastily plucking unearthed crabs from the flooded beach. They brought their live catch back to their resting place, spared a few more pieces of pre-collected fire wood, placed their victims in a clay pot of fresh rain water, and then boiled them up live with a few chips of salt.
"I've never felt so primitive." Shera prodded a vengeful claw with the blunt end of a stick. She was mumbling to herself, but Cid was well of hearing.
"I used to be trained for shit sorta like this." Cid added the last few crabs once they had stopped resisting him. His palms were luckily too work worn to feel them pinch. "Last resorts. What to Duct Tape When Somethin' that Ain't Supposed to Fall Apart, Falls Apart. How to become a Neanderthal."
Shera snorted. With managing the boil, she couldn't hide her smile from him. He liked to see it, it was a real pretty one. "It looks like you remember."
"Yeah, looks like you remember, too." He referenced the pots she made, and all of the other 'housekeeping' they'd collaborated on. They had food, water, and shelter. And they struggled some days, but to be here for almost a month now, still kicking, was absolutely notable.
Perhaps they were unlucky to be here, but quite lucky to be here with each other.
Day 30
I.
Long hikes left a lot of open time for well needed conversation.
Cid asked Shera why she'd been on the ship, and she asked him the same. It was what they already knew, and were both very sore to remember. Shera was the one to change the topic while they paused on an open field to have lunch, and rest.
"What's the most mundane thing you miss, Captain?" She was sitting at his side; lightly jabbing his forearm with her elbow.
He took a few sips of water, and then cleared his throat. "Soap." Cid answered.
"That was my first thought." They both stunk. That was a fact. No wash-offs in a brook could fix what deodorant, or detergent could. "I miss soap. All kinds of soap."
The Captain nodded. "Soap, toilet paper, towels, razors..." He scratched his chin and neck. What was stubble before had grown into a decent beard.
Shera groaned. "Razors." She lifted her tattered pants leg. "Look."
"Holy shit!" Cid boisterously laughed. He lifted his pants leg as well and bared his shin. He pressed it up to hers for a playful comparison. "Lookie there, we match."
Day 33
I.
Now that the pages were long dry, Shera's half-filled notebooks made a good space to scribble down a map. Cid, having a little know-how on how to make one good enough to follow, recorded as they went along with a working pen found in his jacket pockets. They only stopped ever few paces to discuss the usefulness of what they saw, and mark the physical path for later. The bright pink, from a spare tube of expensive lipstick was pearlescent enough to be seen in moonlight. If Shera marked lightly, she could make it last for several more trees.
"I really don't think this island is inhabited at all." If it were, they would have found someone by now. Or someone would have found them. Shera climbed up on a rocky perch before the swaying span of a grassy meadow, and shielded the evening sun from her eyes. As far as she could see, it was just green; all the way up to the dormant crown of a volcano.
"Wait…" Cid climbed up and steadied himself close to Shera's side. She instinctively took his free hand, and he threaded their fingers. "You see that yonder?"
Peeking out from the line of another lush canopy were the long tresses of a water wall. Anchoring himself higher on the perch with the sharp end of his spear, Cid craned his head to see what was around it. "Those are some of the biggest damn trees I've ever seen."
"Likewise…" Shera was in awe. "Should we keep going and have a look there. There's…something else." She couldn't squint well enough to see it in focus, but the structure excited her. Could it finally be something, someone?
"Yeah, I sorta see it, too." The Captain tugged her; signaling that he was ready to work his way down. "It's gonna get dark again, soon. We'll hike back up another day now that we know how't get here."
II.
"Cid?"
The crickets sang.
Shera's line of sight drifted from the bright orange embers pulsing in the pile of ash between their sleeping spaces. It still radiated with the warmth of a full flame from the early evening.
Taking her eyes from there brought her to realize the darkness of their living space. Cid, who hadn't responded yet, shifted onto his other side to face her. From what she could tell, his eyes weren't open.
"Hn…?" He grunted.
"I'm sorry if I woke you." Shera wriggled her toes to relieve the aching pound of a full day's worth of walking. "I can't help thinking, that when we leave here, I'll just be leaving this island for another."
The Captain didn't really know what that meant. He cracked open his eyes, loudly yawned, and then stretched his arms far above him. "It ain't the same. This island is just an island, and the one you said yer from, that's home."
Huh…
"I guess you're right." She sighed. "I really miss home. My family…Even my job."
Cid's laugh was textured with previously being sleeping. "Don't blame ya for bein' homesick. I'd give my pinky finger to be in a real bed." Shera could see his smile in the dark. She smiled back. The anxiousness churning the pit of her stomach ebbed.
"Just keep this in yer back pocket, gal: We're gonna make our stay here temporary. Understand?"
"Understood, Captain."
The crickets continued to sing.
"Um, Captain…" Shera removed her glasses and placed them up above her head. If she found his eyes in the dark, she wasn't going to be able to find her train of thought. "You have any family at home?"
"Uh…" Cid grimaced "I don't have a spouse and kids, if that's what ya mean. My mom and pop are around. I got aunts, uncles, a couple of cousins. Don't see em all that often. You?"
"I don't have a spouse or children either. No boyfriend or girlfriend." Shera shook her head. "I have my mother, my uncle, and all of his children are kind of like my brother and sisters."
"No pop?" Cid folded his hands over his stomach. He propped his head on his rolled up jacket.
"Sort of…he's around, but I don't care to know him."
The Captain paused to listen to a chorus of grassy footsteps passing the cave by. Quails were out for the night stroll. "Shit…Sorry I asked."
His brow knitted. "How old are you anyway?" Cid almost couldn't believe how long it'd taken him to ask. They'd really neglected to thoroughly introduce themselves, trying not to acknowledge how traumatized they really were.
"I'm twenty-five." Shera rolled onto her back. "How old are you?"
"Three-O." Cid made the number with his fingers. Just turned this year in February."
"Oh!"
He decided he didn't like how surprised she sounded. "How old did ya think I was?!"
"…Forty…something." Shera held her hand over her cackle. "Maybe it's the beard?"
"Fuck you, I bet you were thinkin' that before all of this shit grew."
"I'm so sorry, Captain." Shera placed her glasses back on just so she could see the look on his face.
Day 37
I.
Shera could safely say that she anticipated and dreaded the hike back up to the sight of the waterfall. She was eager to know what lied beyond the next level of the island, but her legs and thighs didn't hold the same sentiments.
She paced herself in packing food away into her book bag. Nudging the strap of her tank top over her shoulder, she lifted her sweater (which had become a permanent bag with some modifications) up over her other arm, and then handed the book bag to Cid for him to carry.
Once they made sure they hadn't forgotten anything, they referenced the map etched into her journal, and followed Shera's markers up to the same field they'd looked over before.
When they arrived, there were a few wild goats candidly grazing overgrown, monsoon nourished grass. They didn't seem to be concerned with Cid and Shera, but maybe they should have been, because Cid would remember them for later.
"Boars, quails, turtles, frogs, hawks, now goats." Shera had been keeping as much a track of all of the animals they'd seen. It made her wonder how much else was here.
"Everything else I believe, but I haven't a clue why these things are here." The Captain took her hand and continued where they'd left off a few days passed. He figured it'd take another hour or two to make it to whatever this jut-out, and waterfall was. And then they'd have to figure out where to bunk for the night if they didn't have time to high-tail it back.
"Maybe someone brought them a long, long time ago. Or they just washed up like we did?" Shera gazed down at their joined hands. Cid's palms were rough, certainly not from struggling here, but were warm and nearly enveloped hers. She was hit with the strangest sensation. And then another that punished her for not paying ample attention to where she was allowing her feet to fall. Shera shrieked.
Boars, quails, turtles, frogs, hawks, goats, now
Snakes.
II.
Cid honestly didn't have any genuine hostility towards snakes, but the moment he saw this one retract from Shera's leg, he stomped it dead. If it got away, they'd never know if, or how deadly.
He told her to stay right where she was, they weren't moving.
And that concludes chapter 1
We'll see how the days go next time. Leave a review!