KLIAAAAW! KLIAAAAW! KLIAAAAW!
What... what is that sound?
A shrill, scraping cry tears through the silence and drills straight into my skull.
Like someone dragging knives across my eardrums.
"Uuugh..."
I groan. "What is that...?"
Before I even open my eyes, something sharp bites my lip.
"Ow! Hey!"
A second later, something bites my little toe.
"Ow!"
And then - as if the universe itself wants to mess with me - I feel another bite, this time on my ear.
"Okay, that's enough!"
My eyes snap open.
Two white heads with yellow beaks stare down at me. Seagulls.
Their little heads tilt, left, right, as if they find my misery fascinating.
Kind of cute actually... for a moment.
"Hey, you're not that bad," I mumble sleepily. "Thanks for waking me up.
For a second I thought that woman came back to finish the job or something..."
Before I can finish my sentence, one of the birds lunges forward and bites me hard on the nose.
"OW! You little-!"
The pain jolts me upright. The birds screech, flapping wildly.
I grab the gull clamped to my nose and yank it off.
"I'll wring your neck, you trash pigeon!"
KLIAAAAW!
It bites my hand this time. I yelp and let go.
The gull screeches and takes off, its wings flashing in the sunlight.
"OW! I'm not your food, you flying dumpster!"
I bend down to grab a rock, but lose my balance and crash backward.
The sand softens the fall, but my whole back protests.
"Oh right..." I groan. "My body's still weak. Figures."
I take a deep breath. My chest feels heavy, my muscles burn.
"So this is what muscle pain feels like?" I whisper to myself.
Slowly, I push myself up. My legs tremble, the world spins slightly.
"Uuugh... I don't feel so good... huugh..."
I lean on a rock. Nausea rises, but I swallow it down.
Then I see it.
The sea.
More beautiful than I ever thought water could be.
So blue it almost hurts to look at.
Clear, like glass that slowly breathes.
Gentle waves roll toward the beach - rhythmic, almost comforting.
So calm... so blue.
Not the rough gray-green sea I know, but an endless mirror of peace.
The sky above is nearly white from the bright sunlight.
A salty mist hangs between heaven and earth, thin as breath.
The sand is warm, pale gold, almost glowing.
No ships.
No people.
No voices - only the whisper of waves.
Am I... really somewhere else?
An island? Another land?
My eyes drift to where I had been lying.
Blood. Fresh.
Red as rust in water.
"Oh... wait."
The memory of that woman flashes back.
Her voice.
Her hand inside my chest.
I shiver and look down at myself.
The bird bites still sting, but the other wounds - gone.
No scars. No scratches.
How is that possible? Even the best healers leave marks. What did she do to me?
I take a deep breath, salty air filling my lungs.
Slowly, I look over my clothes.
Loose white pants - too big, wrinkled.
A brown sweater with leather buttons, engraved with strange symbols.
In the center: a small, prismatic crystal that bends sunlight into rainbow streaks.
Over it, a sleeveless short jacket.
My feet are bare.
No shoes. Of course. Why would I have shoes when I wash up on a beach full of psycho birds and women with double scythes?
"Uuugh... perfect. Just perfect. Can this day get any worse?"
I sigh.
"So... I've washed up on a deserted island."
The waves whisper in reply.
Their rhythm calms me, my breathing slows.
Sand. Sea.
And further ahead behind me...
Green.
A wall of leaves and trunks. A jungle.
Dense, alive, impenetrable.
The trees seem to move - not from the wind, but as if they breathe.
Vines hang like snakes between the branches.
Somewhere in the distance, a strange clicking sound echoes.
"A jungle..."
I laugh hoarsely. "Great. I washed up in a jungle."
Carefully, I step closer.
My feet sink deep into the sand.
Among the leaves, a small monkey stares at me while chewing on a fruit.
For a moment, it looks like it's smiling.
"Oh no..." I mumble. "If there are animals here, then..."
My gaze sweeps across the beach.
Wooden planks scattered everywhere - weathered, half-burned.
"Driftwood! So others could have washed up too."
Hope flares in my chest.
Maybe I'm not alone.
I start walking, following the trail of wreckage.
Every step takes effort - the sand drags at my legs, my muscles ache - but I keep going.
The sun climbs higher, the heat pressing down on my shoulders.
Sweat stings my eyes.
After a while, I spot something.
A print in the sand.
"Footsteps!"
I crouch down. The edges are sharp, not yet worn away by wind. Fresh.
"That woman wore boots... so these aren't hers."
My pulse quickens.
I start moving faster.
"I'm not alone! I'm not going to die here!"
I want to run, but something in me says: stop.
Careful. Look first.
I take a deep breath.
Study the tracks. They lead toward the trees.
Whoever it is... maybe a castaway. Or a cannibal. Or worse.
The sun blazes. Salty sweat drips down my temples.
I wipe it away with a sandy hand.
A scent reaches
My heart beats faster.
Another print. And another. Deeper this time.
I hesitate.
Every instinct screams: turn back.
But...
If I run now, I'll be alone. And alone,
you don't survive.
So I keep walking.
Slowly.
Determined.
Following the trail - to wherever it leads.