Those who were taken...
They never came back, dragged beneath the waves never to return.
Their haunting screams were a symbol of their horrific deaths.
Like shadows they lay in wait, the deep blue waters hiding them from view.
With sharp claws they...
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Cally's entire body is still as she holds the glass at just the right angle to where the sun's light shines onto the tinder in a piercing ray of flammable light. She must hold it in the exact same spot as to keep the heat in the same place. One little movement, and the heat dissolves, restarting the process.
It has been at least an hour since Cally awoke to her stomach grumbling and her ribs aching. A fish was laid on a rock right on the shore, obviously left for her by Atlas.
Atlas.
It felt strange to call him that. She was so used to calling him creature that any other name seems foreign. She, at one time, wondered if he even had a name.
The fish was still cool to the touch, which meant it could only have been there a few minutes. After scoffing down the raw fish, she decided she had had enough of raw meat. Every time her stomach twisted and her throat gagged.
She had spent three days on this blasted island trying to make a fire, but to no avail. Everything had still been too wet and the air too humid from the storm to make a fire.
She vowed to never eat a raw fish again, and so here she is, her back blistering under the harsh rays of the sun as she desperately tries to light the tinder on fire with a piece of glass.
Suddenly, a small stream of smoke begins to emerge from the dry grass in her hands. Cally nearly jumps up in a happy dance, but quickly stops herself, keeping her body still. She can't afford to mess up now, not after so many days spent trying and failing.
As the smoke grows taller, a tiny flame arises. Slowly, carefully, Cally removes the glass and blows gently, her stiff legs rising to walk to her hut. She carries the precious flame like it's the Holy Grail. Setting it down on a bed of sticks, Cally continues to blow gently.
After a few more minutes of careful blowing and the slow addition of twigs and sticks, Cally has herself a little campfire. An elated laugh bubbles up her throat and Cally throws her head back in a hearty guffaw. Her eyes dance with happiness as she sees her success. Now all she has to do is tend to it and make sure it doesn't go out. Even if it does, though, the coals will be much easier to light next time around.
Cally steps outside her tent as the fire grows too hot. It isn't nearly large enough to burn anything, but with the already warm temperatures, any extra heat is unbearable. Cally coughs, swiping her hand in front of her face as the smoke stirs around her.
Well, this is one task off the list of things she wished to accomplish. Deciding the fire will last without her for a little while, Cally sets about carving one of the larger sticks she found into a spear. This way, she will hopefully be able to kill her own fish without having to rely on Atlas.
