The Long Water

The night passed slowly and storm even slower still, during which Flake could do nothing as he was trapped both on his log and in a state of pure animal terror. His species had not evolved to even conceive of the impossible happenings that led to this situation, thus his mind reverted back to that of an animal's. All night Flake had been thrashed and splashed about by the relentless storm, with his terror being punctuated via nearby lightning strikes, all the while the relentless rain soaked his back as he clung desperately to his log. Each gust of wing may as well have been the wing beats of a hungry Spear Beak, each crack of thunder was like the tail lashing of a Death Jaw, while each wave that crashed on his back may as well have been a stampeding Long Tooth in the now animalistic mind of Flake. His tribe, his mates, even his children, those concerns were forced from his mind much like how this storm forced Flake away from them. Even once the sun crested the horizon its usually crimson rays were blotted out by the black clouds of the storm. Though with the coming of a trickle of daylight, Flake's human mind return to him at last.

Flakes arms and fingers ached from a night of desperate clinging panic and while the storm around him still raged, the sliver of the sun's light as it filtered though the dense canopy of storm clouds gave Flake enough visibility to return his senses to him. First Flake looked at himself to assess for any injuries, plenty of bruises on his torso and the underside of arms and legs from behind battered against logs all night. As well as plenty of scratches that didn't extend beyond Flake’s calloused hide, but no injuries that are anything but superficial. Next he looked at the log he was desperately latching too, it was some species of beach growing tree. Being as his name tribe was predominantly an inland population, his people had no name for this type of tree. Though the important detail Flake noticed was that the tree had a large hollow on its trunk that collected water.

Desperately thirsty from a night of howling terror Flake inched himself across the trunk of the log and brought his face to the hollow. Taking a sniff the water lacked the acrid salty small of the undrinkable sea around him, so he bent over and took a sip. By some sort of luck the water was fresh, it was rainwater that had collected in the hollow over the course of the storm. Flake drank desperately to quell his thirst, not having the forethought to conserve the water.

In pulling his head up from the water for a gasp of air Flake saw something in the corner of his eye. Its head and body were of a fish, yet for fins it had the wings of a bird and it shared the great deadly beak of a spear beak. Yet what made the creature truly terrifying to look upon was that it was both far larger than even the largest trees Flake had ever seen, and that with each wing beat it took in the sky above the ocean, great storm clouds billowed out.

The weird beast was totally alien to Flake’s comprehension, so much so his tiny mind nearly rejected it outright. Only one factor really stuck within his mind, the creature's seemingly impossible power. How powerful must a creature be to wrestle the air itself with its wings? This was a creature of truly incomprehensible strength, and Flake soon found himself bellowing out in primordial terror. Said terror turned to pure nightmare when the giant monster’s eye turned to him. As if the eye of death itself had turned its gaze onto him, Flake had suddenly found himself silent and attempting to hide on the side of the log away from the leering Long Tooth sized eye. With a sudden whip of its fan-like tail the unknowable creature sent forth a blast wave of storm winds at what to it was nothing but a bothersome shrieking bug.

Flake himself barely able to cling to his log once again as he was violently whipped Northwards by the alien gust. The rain pelted his back like pebbles, the rushing wind screamed in his ear, and his short hair whipped around his head with frenzy at the sheer speed in which he was being pushed away. Quickly he rushed out of sight of both what remained of his island home in the distance as well as the unspeakable thing that brushed him aside like so much a gnat.

Eventually Flake's vessel, after many moments, slowed back to an oceanic drift. Flake quickly scrambled back to the top of the top of the log and looked around him. Behind him was the raging seas that so cruelly tore him from everything he knew, and everything his species evolved for. In front of him was madness, what appeared to be an infinite void of two different shades of blue. The infinite horizon, and unending sea below it. Had Flake not already had an encounter with the maddening and incomprehensible this sight alone probably would have sent him into a panic. Now with his sense of terror being thoroughly worn down it all just became so much another oddity.

Thus began Flake's trial in earnest, for while the storm was a battle the true war for survival would be a long and arduous one. By the time Flake had found himself artificially blown Northwards of that unspeakable horror’s storm the sun was already drifting down in the Western sky. The next day as the sun arose would be the first day of many of Flake's new trials. The greatest immediate threat would quickly reveal itself as the unrelenting sun dry season sun. Burning overhead it would relentlessly beat down on Flake's naked body. Even with the dark black skin of his ancestors evolved to cope with the blazing African sun the added layers of reflection from the surrounding water amplified the sun's effects to where Flake's natural adaptations could not cope with it fully. Days passed and Flake found his skin darkening even further, tightening, and then burning before it'd begin to itch and peel. This was one of the first problems Flake wasn't entirely powerless too, he quickly found himself spending hours if not the bulk of the day hiding from the sun partially underwater in the shade of his log life line.

Of course this solution presented its own problems, for Flake's face and whatever arm he chose to support himself with would still be brutalized by the sun's rays. Along with so much time being spent in the water creating its own problems, soaking for too long caused his skin to get soft and wrinkled before it'd potentially even rash or worse if Flake wasn't naturally cautious enough to never let the condition advance beyond a safe point. Still Flake found that his skin was getting the worst beating from this ordeal.

The next problem was that of water, and while Flake's wooden life line in the ocean did well in collecting rainwater, this ordeal was all happening during the dry season. Meaning days on end could pass without a drop of rain falling from the sky. Flake knew from what little experience he had along the coast of his island home that this burning salty water wasn't safe to drink and would never slake his thirst. Flake only made due on two accounts, the first being that his smaller body needed less resources than many other similar hominids. The second was in how he also fed himself.

Flake had only one primary source of food while he was adrift at sea and that was the sea life looking for its own refuge under the log Flake sat upon. Most were small fish of numerous different species Flake didn't recognize. The bulk of whom were long with silver coloration, far different from the tiny creek fish that he was used to grabbing for a snack or small mid hunt meal. Still the process of collecting them was the same, wait for them to approach, guess which direction they'll try to flee in and then strike with your hand. Yet these fish were often far faster than the creek fish he was used to and Flake had a low success rate in catching them. When he did catch one and it didn't slip from his hands the process was a simple one, either bash its head against the log or bite its head off before he'd devour the rest of the creature raw. The blood and meat of the fish give Flake a small amount of crucial water as well calories and nutrients he needed to survive.

Though the greatest boon he had caught with his bare hands was a large turtle that swam by his log. Desperate for food and water as by that point it had been nearly a week without rain Flake jumped on top of it and struggled to drag the hard shelled creature back to his log. Using all his strength he lifted the turtle that was nearly the size of himself up in the air and bashed its hook beaked against the log. The to Flake Herculean effort took all his strength and desperate survival energy but the turtle in being unable to retract its head into its shell instantly had its neck broken upon impact.

Flake hooted and cheered as he lifted his fist in the air at his victory. For the turtle's blood provided him with more than enough water to last until he came across another rain storm, and the ample meat which he ate raw and from bloody chunks torn from the carcass with bare hands allowed him to restore crucial fat reserves which would help carry him through future lean times. Though with no tools the shell was unworkable even with Flake’s small hands easily being able to reach inside of it. Still once he finished with the meat and made what tools he could from its bones Flake set the shell between the crook of two great roots and while the entire shell was poor for gathering rainwater, every drop of fresh water would help. Even if Flake put the shell there more so in the hopes of attracting other potential prey animals than any initial plans at collecting water.

There was one food however Flake learned was toxic if he over ate, a brown floating seaweed his log would occasionally get tangled in as it drifted through the sea. With his usual method of tasting something unknown the chewy brown plant material seemed bitter and unappetizing but perfectly edible. In fact it was so plentiful Flake had become full from gorging on it for the first time in weeks, since his grueling journey had started. Still there was so much leftover that after Flake collected what he could onto his log he still had enough to crudely tie into some sort of makeshift cloak to shade himself against the sun.

That night however Flake would find himself being plagued by horrendous fits of vomiting and stomach pain. Flake realized he made a horrific mistake as he expunged what food and little water he had in his body into the uncaring ocean. These floating brown leaves were a slow poison, something that could only be eaten in small amounts at a time like a few of the wild edibles on his home island. It would be pure luck that Flake would survive the minor poisoning on account of there being another rainstorm that night to provide him with enough water to replace what he had lost. The next morning Flake found himself tossing most of the evil leaves back into the ocean.

Flake's greatest frustration however wouldn't be a fish slipping from his hand, the stomach pains of arsenic poisoning, nor even his own helplessness in the face of both natural and supernatural phenomena. No, the most evil of this journey’s many frustrations were in the numerous land masses that sat far out in the horizon, past where his log oasis drifted. Time after time Flake desperately tried to push and steer the great log towards the direction of the land masses to no avail. His tiny limbs, even with his great broad feet just couldn't generate the power to move the massive log off its course.

So many times was rescue from this impossible situation nearly within his grasp only to be cruelly denied to him time and time again. Just as many times he considered simply jumping off the log and attempting to swim ashore, and each time his courage or desperation gave way to fear. Each time he would remember nearly drowning when he jumped off the first log when it rushed out to sea. Eventually Flake stopped even trying, his human reason finally overtaking his animal desperation. Unless this log landed on a beach of its own accord he would never reach land again.

Yet even the brutal sun, thirst, starvation, and near poisoning weren't the most dangerous threats Flake encountered on his journey. The most dangerous threat was one that could just as well be found on his home island. This encounter would strike Flake some time after all the phases of the moon had passed since he was swept out to sea. A small dot on the horizon came to Flake's attention one day, it was too small to be any sort of land. Flake hoped desperately that it would be another turtle, for by this time his body had withered to the point his ribs and hip bones showed, and his skin was calloused and sore all over. For Flake was in desperate need of another great meal, all the while dreaming of Long Tooth meat, bananas, and various other seasonal feasts shared with his family that he desperately missed.

Yet as it swam closer horror overtook Flake, for this was no turtle, nor even some biting fish that was easily escaped by climbing atop his log. This was a danger his instincts were fully programmed for. Gigantic and reptilian, far larger than even the largest of Death Jaws. Being as they were a highland tribe his people had no name for this swimming scaled horror though as a youth Flake had seen one before. Only briefly on the water’s edge Flake had seen one eating the remains of a Long Tooth, tearing a leg for its by clamping down with massive jaws and spinning its whole body until the powerful leg was torn from the body entirely. Before it greedily devoured the leg in its entirety, its powerful jaws smashing the Long Tooth’s leg bones as if they were twigs.

Flake stood atop his log, raising his hands high in the air, and with a dry scratchy throat he would scream and hoot as loud as he could in a desperate attempt to scare the beast off. Yet with cold and unfeeling eyes the great reptilian monster swam on directly at Flake and his log. Even with Flake's orchestra of scream, stomping, and chest beating no feeling of even the slightest unease came through in the beast's yellow eyes. Yet somehow a moment of understanding came through between Flake and the beast. They were both desperate survivors, and neither of whom wanted to be so far out at sea. Both shared in having showing ribs, though where Flake had sores on his skin this sub-adult saltwater crocodile had barnacles firmly rooted into his thick scales.

Mutual understanding or no, the crocodile lunged for Flake as soon as he was within distance. Flake's instincts flared before he leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the bone crushing jaws that would have killed him in an instant. Said bite being followed by a loud echoing pop like when two old and dry branches of hardwood are smacked against each other, as air rushes to escape the crocodile’s jaws. The beast quickly turned with a low hiss and snapped again, with Flake diving into the water to escape its terrible maw. In frustration the hungry creature snapped its jaws down upon the now old and dry turtle shell, splintering into hundreds of pieces.

While the monster was distracted Flake crawled underneath the log, beneath that waters edge to the backside of the creature. Silently climbing up the log with expert grace and his own curved fingers. Grabbing an arm bone of the turtle Flake painstakingly sharpened with his own teeth Flake snuck behind the crocodile and leapt on its back. Wrapping one arm around its armor plated torso as well as both his legs, Flake desperately stabbed the turtle bone deep into the reptilian demon’s eye again and again as he screamed. The beast hissed and thrashed about as the bone pierced both its eyelids and bloodied its eye. Desperate to remove Flake from its back the wounded animal rolled about on the log, not wanting to be crushed Flake left the turtle bone in its eye and jumped back into the water before clinging to the underside of the log and holding his breath.

Badly hurt and confused, the crocodile lunged into the water and swam quickly away, all the while leaving a trail of bloody water behind it. When he could hold his breath no longer, Flake climbed back onto the log and watched his would-be hunter swim away. No doubt it would become a meal for some great biting fish attracted to its blood. While Flake was still alive, his heart raced and for all the energy burned he gained no great meal. He didn't know how much longer he could survive in these conditions, nor how much longer he even wanted to without hope of ever reuniting with his family or tribe.

As Flake only barely clung to life aboard his log home he would see something in the distance. For the first time in many days he would see land again, and this land wasn't some far off mountain top well to the side of his logs path. The landmass grew into a great one, far greater than even his island home; and it was right in front of him. Directly in the path of log’s travels, Flake knew that if this wasn't his logs' ultimate resting place then he was doomed. Not just from the starvation, thirst, or sun exposure, but also from the recent drop in temperature. Once his cool shelter from the burning rays of the sun, Flake now had to avoid the water as if it were a predator as if its icy jaws were set on devouring him as well. For this was by far the coldest Flake had even been in his decades of life, never could it ever even approach this level of cold on his Island. Flake was now truly in alien waters, and would soon be in an alien land.

Fifty-five, Flake had been stranded at sea aboard his log life raft for fifty-five days before he finally made landfall in this mysterious land of cold. Flake's log ran ashore to where he slowly and painfully waded out of the water, the midday sun providing little warmth against the biting cold of the water around him. Naked as the day he was born, the crude seaweed cloak he made for himself was desperately eating days ago. The gravel beneath his feet was gray, as were the many great jutting rock formations that surrounded the beach around him. Strange trees the likes of which Flake has never seen dotted the tops of the great rock formations. Flake had survived the trial of the long water just barely, yet in this time the desperate clash for survival never ends; and that was all that Flake understood of this new land he found himself walking upon.