Mars can't give up now. He trusts his instincts and hunches. His deep heart kept telling him that Vanylla was still out there waiting for him to come and rescue. His bond to Vanylla was that strong that almost unbelievable. He followed his instinct to keep sailing, although the hope was getting vague. It was two days already, and Mars was supposed to get back, or he got lost in the bay to get back to the port.
"I can't give up now!" Mars muttered to himself over and over. Mars has no other spirit than encouraging himself. None at his side to cheer him up right now. All he had was a sailing boat and God.
He got up to walk to the navigation desk, looking and hoping. A table in the middle of the center space at the yacht was becoming a navigation desk. It has a big map, compass, and unfunctional walkie-talkie. They've been out of the radar of communication for days due to the storm in South America. Mars only had some flare to ask for help if something emergency was coming.
