Damon walked alongside his aesta, fingers laced through hers. It was hard to treat the situation with the seriousness it truly deserved. They needed to find food, a source of fresh water, potentially shelter, and yet all he could think about was how beautiful the moment felt, barefoot on the beach, Malon’s hair loose and still scraggly and damp from the water.
“It’s possible there could be a settlement on this island,” he said.
Malon shrugged. “It is, though I suspect we would have seen more signs of activity. Surely we’ll discover something, if there have been people here before, by following the beach.”
“How far away do you think The Reunion is?” He flexed his free hand, glancing toward the ocean. “In theory, I could use my magic to make us an ice raft.”
“As I could make us one from projected power,” said Malon. “Trouble is, we have no idea which direction we were swept in once we fell overboard. Even if we assumed the others continued on their course to the west, it seems implausible that we’d encounter them, adrift at sea, before expending ourselves.”
“So you think we should wait here for rescue.”
She shrugged, pulling closer to him to kiss his shoulder. “I do. It’s not as passive of a course of action as it may sound. I can attempt to dreamspell to Vel and let her know that we’re alive and on an island.”
“She won’t know where, though,” said Damon. “Looking for a tiny island in the middle of the ocean is a bit like looking for an oasis in the desert.”
“If The Reunion , or any ship, for that matter, draws near enough to be visible on the horizon, I can send up a flare with my magic to pull its attention. Perhaps it’s not ideal, or a guarantee, but it’s a better chance than most castaways are ever presented.”
“You’re a woman of many talents.” Damon slid behind her, pulling her into a hug and inhaling her scent. “I’m glad you’re stranded with me, aesta.”
“I bet you are.” She grinned and leaned back into him for several seconds. Damon’s heart pounded in his chest… or was that hers? He slid his hands up the front of her body, slowly but deliberately.
“Easy,” whispered Malon. “We haven’t completed a full circuit of the beach yet. We aren’t even sure we’re alone here, as you pointed out.”
“If we are, then it really is just us,” he said, not drawing back just yet. “No one else around for miles upon miles. Reminds me of when I first came back to the tower.”
“I cherish my memories of that time,” she said, with a sigh. “Come on. Move your legs, solas, before you indulge too deeply in reminiscence.”
She pulled him into motion, still holding his hand, arms swinging back and forth in a manner closer to a loving couple strolling the beach than two bedraggled castaways.
Damon saw the camp first, set into a small clearing at the edge of the sand ahead of them. He slowed to a stop, gently pulling Malon into a crouch beside him. He hadn’t been wearing his sword when he went overboard, but given how much power he and his aesta could bring to bear in a fight, it seemed like a falsehood to claim that he was unarmed.
“See anyone?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back. “If they aren’t at their camp, then they must have been in the trees. In which case, no doubt they would have heard or seen us, given the size of this island.”
“I’ll go in first,” he said. “You hang back here and cover me. Your magic is more suited to attacking from a distance.”
“Be careful, solas.” She kissed him on the cheek and rubbed his shoulder.
Damon stayed low, scanning the surrounding trees as he crept into the campsite. He didn’t see anyone, but there was still plenty of interest worthy of his inspection.
A basic lean-to shelter was set up facing the beach, and a sandy but serviceable bedroll was spread out on a pallet of pliable branches within. There was a firepit, replete with a significant amount of charred but not completely spent firewood. A few glass bottles littered the nearby sand.
Bigger still was the rain barrel set off to one side. Damon licked his chapped lips as he peered into it. It was about half full, which represented perhaps a weeks’ worth of water for two people if they were mindful of their portioning. A ladle hung from the barrel’s inside lip. He used it to scoop up enough to give himself a small sip. It tasted clean and free of salt, and that was enough for him.
“I think we’re in the clear, judging from how old this fire looks,” he said. “It’s been days since anyone used this site, at the very least.”
“Is that a rain barrel I see you sipping from?” asked Malon as she padded across the sand.
“Yeah,” he said. He held the ladle out to her lips, and she let out a satisfied sigh as she took a long drink.
“We’ll stay here tonight,” said Damon. “The only thing we need now is some food, and perhaps some extra firewood if we need to cook. I doubt it will even get cold enough for us to have to rely on the fire for warmth.”
“This campsite means that there are people who do visit this island, on occasion,” said Malon. “It bodes rather well for us finding rescue.”
“It does,” he said. “We’ll just have to keep busy until that happens.”
He grinned and dropped down to sweep sand off the bedroll. He watched Malon smiling reluctantly as he pressed his fingers down, testing the give and comfort of the bedding.
“Why don’t I cozy up our new shelter, while you go looking for food?” she suggested. “Better if we stay properly busy, rather than simply… whiling away the afternoon.”
“Of course, aesta,” he said. “We’ll have time to relax and get comfortable this evening.”
He tried not to look too excited as he held her gaze. Malon cleared her throat, wiping one hand across her cheek as though it might dispel the rosy blush that came over her face.
“Well,” she said. “I will see you in a bit.”
“With food, if all goes well,” he said, turning to leave. “I love you, aesta.”
“As I love you, solas.”
Damon remained cautious as he began exploring the trees, aware of the fact that just because they hadn’t encountered any surprises yet didn’t necessarily mean they could let their guard down. He moved slowly, though that was also due to his bare feet and the number of poking branches and sharp rocks scattered across the ground.
There were plenty of dry branches, and he tossed each one that seemed large enough to be worth collecting into a long pile leading back toward the camp. He found a larger tree of standing deadwood and spent a minute trying to muscle it over before hearing a whisper.
“Hey,” said Myr. “Maybe there’s an easier way? Hint, hint.”
“Right,” he muttered.
He set his hands on either side of the base of the tree trunk, and with a careful force of will, froze a thin, circular section. He let the ice dissolve just as quickly, but it had done its job in an instant. The tree toppled sideways with his next push as neatly as though he’d sawed through it.
He made similar cuts to allow the firewood to be carried more easily and tossed it all in the general direction of the camp. They would likely have more than enough to keep the fire lit for a few hours, and he doubted they’d need it for longer than that.
Damon turned his efforts toward finding food, which unfortunately seemed to present a much more difficult challenge. He took the patient approach, standing still and listening for anything resembling a bird, or perhaps a small animal scampering across the sand. A wild pig, maybe? A man could dream.
When it became clear that hunting was more or less out of the question, he continued walking, pushing out onto the beach on the far side from their campsite. The island was no more than perhaps a mile across, and the forest was sparse enough to make it seem like much less, compared to what a mile would have been in the dense growth of the Malagantyan.
He eyed the surf, trying to think like a fish, or a crab, or even a clump of edible seaweed. His earlier comment to Malon about the island being like an oasis in the middle of the desert seemed ominously prescient. The water surrounding the island was crystal clear, but any fish within it were skilled at blending into the blue.
He looked back toward the forest, hoping he might have missed a coconut tree, or some wild lettuce, but nothing jumped out at him. The ocean seemed more promising, if only through its sheer size in comparison to the island’s land.
He took off his clothes and waded out into the shallows. He could, in fact, see a number of fish once he was up to his waste. Catching any of them was a fairly more challenging prospect, however. Damon considered how he might use his power to spear one of them with ice, but timing it correctly seemed as if it would be extremely difficult.
He went for a different approach, standing still in the water and waiting for the fish to accept him as a static object. He saw a few small ones flitting about by his legs and hoped there were more nearby. With a breath of frigid air and a quick flex of his will, he sent a circle of freezing cold outward, with the space just outside his body as the center point.
It had the effect of briefly flash-freezing the water within six feet of him, along with anything swimming within it. Several tiny fish went still, some floating to the surface, while others tumbled through the weightless stillness of the shallow ocean. None of them resembled anything he might be interested in trying to eat, but the idea seemed to have merit.
He tried again, this time sending the cold forward into deeper water in the form of a channel. It felt like firing an arrow blindly into an enemy army… at night. The one upside was that he had a quiver full of arrows, so to speak. He repeated the magical trick over and over again, apologizing to the tiny fish and one thumb-sized squid who were sacrificed through the endeavor.
A surprisingly large splash came in the wake of one of his spells, and he knew he’d struck true. A large fish with an ugly, razor-toothed mouth and exotic blue patterning flapped mindlessly against the water’s surface for a moment before going still. It was easily the length of his forearm, thick with meat, and it made no attempt to escape when Damon swam forward and seized it by the tail.