By the time her rounds brought her within sight of the little white plane, her body had released the tension of her worries. Flying high overhead, she surveyed the small island. A camp had been set up, with a fire burning in a clearing. He was resourceful and proactive.
The light was fading, which would shield her from his view, especially at this height.
Flying so that she was out of view from his camp, she descended at some distance, on the far side of the island, and shifted into human form as she crested the natural beach dunes. From there, she went for the stash. There was one on every island. Finding the right tree, she reached into a deep hollow and extracted a sack with clothing, leather sandals and a small knife. Dressing, she slung the small sack over her shoulder and started walking toward the camp end of the island.
Before entering the camp, Kymri watched the man for a little while; he seemed at peace, observing the sky. The breeze shifted and she could scent his body. Studying him, her eyes slid over his form, head back, his thick dark hair hanging behind him, the line of his jaw obscured by beard growth, the strong neck and broad shoulders. He was clearly a tall man, even seated as he was with his long lean legs outstretched.
Determined to engage and find out his purpose in their territory, she stepped forward.
Hauling the last of his equipment cases into place, Jori turned to give his camp a once over. Pulling the elastic from his wrist, he tied his hair up into a loose bun so the sweat on the back of his neck could dry.
He drew several deep breaths of the moist ocean air as the sun prickled his skin.
With no idea as to how long he’d be here, it was vital to ensure he had what he needed. Even though the digital equipment had failed, essentially causing him to be stranded, he brought it into the camp anyway. Maybe something would shift, and he’d be able to get a signal out, or at least do some recording of his days on the island. You know, in case someone did come along a little too late, then they would at least know what became of him when his bones were found.
He set up was the solar panels and hooked up the communications. There was still nothing working properly. The satellite phone connected to wrong random numbers. The digital camera caught strange anomalies when you could see anything at all, and the video he shot was like looking into another place altogether. That was when stuff actually powered up. Clearly the magnetic interference was going to be a problem for his documentary work.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, grazing over his whiskered jaw.
Since he had planned to visit islands along the way, he had the necessary camp gear, including a reliable tent and a bed roll. The biggest challenge had been prying open the jammed doors to get some of the cases out into the open, but he’d managed. It wasn’t like he didn’t have time on his hands.
Now, he sat on one of the portable chairs by the campfire he built from scavenged beach wood and decided to worry about rescue in the morning. For today it was enough that he’d survived a wild Atlantic storm. He laughed to himself. He had been rescued. Some ocean creature had fucking pushed his plane to safety. Elbows on knees, he leaned and placed his chin on his hand, fingers curled over his lips while staring at the exposed mess of the little Cessna.
He’d been damned lucky.
No one, absolutely No One, was going to fucking believe him. Not without footage of some kind, and if whatever caused the ‘Bermuda Triangle’ effect was still around him; nothing would work except maybe the film. Maybe. If— and that was a very big ‘if’—the magnetic atmosphere didn’t mess with the film exposure. And he wouldn’t know that until he got it into a dark room back home.
His plane looked like a bloated whale belly on a sandbar.
Fingers digging into his hair, rubbing at the muscle, he wished the ache would go away.
He couldn’t imagine what had stopped his spinning free fall. Whatever it was, had been large and strong. And intelligent. He was pretty sure it didn’t have tentacles, so it wasn’t the legendary Kraken.
At some point through all the ‘holy shit what the fuck is happening during this killer storm?’ his mother’s stories weaseled through his consciousness.
Whatever it really was, it had saved his sorry ass.
This was the beast he’d come all the way out here to find. This was his mission.
And he’d failed to secure the valuable footage needed.
He’d hit his head hard enough he couldn’t remember clearly. In fact, he’d dreamed that a beautiful woman had helped him out of his seat.
Now he understood why the world thought all those experiencers were crack pots. Because they were too busy surviving to document what was happening. All they had were the stories.
Crazy. Just fucking crazy. No one would believe it. Nor was there anyone to tell. He quickly turned his thoughts.
Of course, there will be. He would find a way home, he always did.
Meanwhile, the wind had calmed to a gentle breeze and the stars were growing brighter in the sky above him. Leaning back in his chair, he let his head fall back to admire them as they brightened a few at a time. This right here was a major part of why he did what he did. Being out in the world alone and being part of its beauty. He enjoyed the vibrant humanity in cities, but this was altogether something else.
As darkness deepened around him, the heat of the day dissipated, the warmth of his campfire was constant on his legs while he continued to watch the sky. The ocean haze faded out the edges, while the sky overhead was crystal clear. He wasn’t an astronomer, but he could tell the stars seemed a little off. Maybe the magnetic field around here affected the view of the stars? Tilting his head at another angle, he tried to pick out familiar constellations. He didn’t find them.
Huh.
That was cool.
The brighter stars formed a long curving line that reminded him of a serpent. Arched stars perpendicular made it look like wings. Like a dragon. And as the light receded and the sky was all there was, with almost no moon, colourful space dust webbed through the stars, filling in the space. It definitely looked like a dragon arching over the sky.
It reminded him of the stories his mother had told him as a child.
Maybe at some point, long ago, someone else had been here, stranded, looking up at the sky, and had let their mind go wildly creative and dreamed up a story, letting it evolve as their stay lengthened. Or maybe they too had encountered a creature like he had. The very thing he’d been looking for.
He closed his eyes, recalling the ride, and still had no idea how he wasn’t now on the bottom of the Atlantic with sea creatures feasting on his remains. He honestly didn’t know what had really happened. After he hit his head, he imagined a lot of fucked up stuff during the crash.
Jori was very lucky. He seemed to have some kind of guardian, given how often he found himself in sticky situations. He sighed. One of these days his luck may run out. However, today was not that day.
Tonight, he’d enjoy a campfire on the beach, get some shut eye and worry about it tomorrow.
He took a deep breath. Shelter done. Weapons next. One never knew if there were wild animals or aggressive locals resentful of his presence.
Tomorrow he would get to work scavenging what he would need for a potential extended stay on the island that he doubted was charted.
Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do.
Okay. I got this.
That thought had gotten him through so many jams. It would do, again. It would have to.