(10)
Yami's been Robinson-Crusoeing on this island for seven days. On most, he's seen "his dolphin's" ...flukes? (From some angles, they seem more like fishy fins...?)
Daily, he's stumbled across something useful or intriguing: tasty sea-life in the shallows, necklaces of polished seaglass and shell curled on the sand.
Is his "friend" herding food and floating flotsam into shore? No. Dolphins are intelligent, but... No way is his taking care of him.
Worried he's one sunrise away from scratching a face onto a coconut for company, Yami refuses to seriously consider...
(He spots tell-tale flukes/fins and calls "Thank you!" anyway.)
o0o
He wears the necklaces, strokes his fingers over the smooth glass "stones" and rough fibers as he contemplates the endless sea. He collects shells and water-worn pebbles and shiny bits of metal (from this wreckage or another), and picks fibers from the linen shirt he keeps in his shelter as proof he was once a part of civilization and not a wild man sprung from the sand and waves by some strange spontaneous generation. He twists the fibers into cord and weaves the cord around and through his finds, crafting jewelry of a sort for... himself? His "friend" in the ocean? Yami laughs at himself as he winds his adornments around his wrists and into his hair along with the gifts from the sea (as eclectic as his own creations, ancient coins or pearls side-by-side with glass beads and broken pottery). He can't imagine what he looks like, with seaglass and gold glittering in his hair, but at least his whimsy keeps his hands occupied. And when his thoughts tangle and twist back into doubt, he holds the smooth, cool surface of seaglass or shell, and his heart settles.