Jack felt the muscles in his back twitch, taking several steps backwards in fast estimations, mostly of how high his tolerance for pain was at that very moment, and ran at the side of the ship in a gesture that he had no way of knowing he would ever repeat.

The next few seconds passed quickly with little noise save a severe rush in his ears. That was how he knew he was going to hit the water hard. He could have been flying, and then it was agonizingly obvious that he was not, as the water clapped over him, stinging his face. But he saw her, sinking, looking blissful. She had stopped fighting to swim upwards. He screwed his breath to a sticking place and kicked vigorously against the water towards her.

For a moment, the only thing Arden could think was that the sun had felt marvelous on her back. But even that went away, overwhelmed by the fatigue. She was so tired, and no wonder! Those waves had been so heavy, and she'd fought to keep her head above water so hard.

But her arms and legs seemed to have quit on her, and soon she had been dropping downward. Her lungs were burning now, and little by little she was watching her air slip away from her, escaping to the surface without her.

But maybe that wasn't so bad. Everying was tuning down; the cold of the water was wearing off, the heat in her lungs was burning away to nothing, even the pain of what were probably several cracked ribs that the masting had caused was going away. She felt as if she could lay back with the water all around her and watch all the moments of her life pass by behind her eyelids. She could see her mother smiling and fussing with a simple and pretty white dress when she was young, and her father pressing a kiss to her forehead and smoothing her hair. She could almost feel the small brand on her father's inner forearm, just outside the bend of his elbow. She could hear the way her mother cried when she told her that she wanted one just like his. She remembered the blood splattering across her shirt, the way it sounded hitting her skin. She remembered how cold the breeze that was making her father sway in that sickened way felt. She remembered crying until she was raw and tired and utterly slack.

Arden wondered why she even tried to hold her breath. The water was becoming darker every moment, fuzzing around the edges of her eyes. Her arms closed around her, and she felt her own mark, the brand on her inner forearm, just outside the bend of her elbow, and thought that the water might be a nice place to wait for her parents.

She let her head loll back on her shoulders and saw that a blurry shape was bearing down on her. A blurry shape with a snarled, black cloud around what appeared to be it's head. Hands reached out for her and grabbed her tightly, and she was no longer falling. Her eyes were heavy, and she could barely keep herself awake.

'It was a lovely day,' She thought with great difficulty, "but I don't know that I want that loneliness.'

It was only when the searing pain in her chest and sides came back, and her mother's crying was ringing in her ears, that she realized that she was worried about the time between her and the surface of the water.