Skip unless you want to read extra content on the island (some of which, like the condition and events of the ship, have been changed). The most important events of this chapter have already been covered in the previous chapter.
Dark, moldering, half full of sand and sea life, the bottom floor of the ship had been remade by the tide. My horns scraped furrows into the roof and I bent into a half crouch until the slant of the wreck raised the ceiling enough for me to stand. Even then, my horns came uncomfortably close to the roof. Ahead of me the rotten deck was broken in places, dark pools of water visible below. I stuck next to the rocks piercing the wood and made my way forward toward a door at the rear of the room, using my tail to balance and my claws to hold to anything within reach.
I pulled the handle, but the swollen wood had fused the door shut. I gave a sharp tug and the rotten piece of wood broke off in my hand. I stared at it for a moment before realizing that I could just kick the door in.
I turned and kicked the door with the heel of my foot, hard. My foot went through the door and my other foot went through the deck below.
“Shit!”
The deck sagged around me, forcing my legs further apart. I pitched forward and pulled myself free. This place was a deathtrap. Supernatural durability wouldn’t save me from getting stuck and drowning. Against my better judgment, I decided to keep exploring and tore the door apart from the hole I kicked in it.
Inside was a damp, moldering room full of crates and barrels. The smell of rot was thick on the stagnant air. What drew my attention the most, however, was a pile of rotten clothes slumped against the wall near the prow. A dirty skull stared at me from above the collar. I screamed.
The skull moaned. I screamed louder. Dim, sickly green lights appeared in its eye sockets and it shambled upright. I should have expected to find a body in a place like this. Undead were another thing entirely. It staggered upright; a rusty sword held in its hand.
I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. Nothing. The ship was too waterlogged to burn, right? I called forth my mana. Frustration. This thing is ruining my fun! How dare it assault me!
Managing the anger my magic threatened to conjure, I basked in the feeling of superiority and produced a gout of flame to burn the skeleton as it stumbled toward me. The heat wicked away moisture and charred the rotten clothes, but the thing took another stumbling step forward. Aside from being charred, it seemed undamaged and my confidence faltered. I took a step back and my tail felt the wall.
It swung clumsily. I tried to dodge but couldn’t seem to make my body move correctly. The blade slashed across my forearm. It broke into rusted pieces. I hardly even felt it.
My fear evaporated. Could this thing even hurt me? The skeleton swung again with the rusted hunk of junk. I was able to move to the side easily this time and the undead stumbled forward into the wall. I brought my upper left arm back and tried to punch with all the force I could muster.
Years ago, my father tried to teach me how to throw a punch. I was never good at it, and I never much cared to learn. Now though, I was, well, still terrible at it. My fist carried little of my strength and the motion felt awkward and forced, but when I hit the thing’s back, bones cracked and splintered. The skeleton slammed into the wall before collapsing into a motionless heap.
How strong was I? Was the skeleton just that weak? Were the bones that fragile after sitting down here for who knows how long? How about its sword? Questions raced through my mind in time with my heart rate.
Still shaking lightly, I picked up the broken weapon handle and the biggest piece of blade I could see. The blade was a swollen piece of rust and flaked apart as I held it. From the handle, I could tell it had rusted almost entirely through.
With no small amount of trepidation, I checked the remains. The tunic and trousers it wore were falling apart, but the back of the tunic looked like it might have been slashed. With very little idea what I was looking at, I couldn’t tell anything from the bones, but all this did make me wonder how this individual died.
Checking the crates and barrels proved to be a mistake. While one or two held small cannon balls and supplies that were far too damaged to be of use, the remaining ones that weren’t empty held some kind of dried food or hard tack in a very advanced state of rot. I Just barely succeeded in keeping my breakfast down.
More important was the lack of a way to the upper decks. Dejected, but not ready to give up, I carefully made my way back out of the wreck. To my relief, the tide didn’t look to be coming in yet. The broken section was unstable, but after some careful trial and error, I found a place that seemed to hold my weight. Short as the decks were and tall as I was, I was able to get a grip on the floor above and I pulled myself up with my top pair of arms.
This deck was in significantly better shape than the one below it. Not so much the first room which had seen wind, rain and perhaps the occasional wave scour it of most objects. Left in place, however, were three cannons in front of three of four closed hatches. Green with age, they nevertheless stole my attention; I’d never seen one up close before. I knew next to nothing about the guns, which seemed larger than I imagined they would be from the ammunition I saw below. However, the casting was expertly done, something I knew enough about to appreciate.
Importantly there was a name and a date on the side of each: Cardozo, it sounded Cavenish, or maybe Turquoiser. Neither region was part of the Empire, but both were in the north. The date was 1303 AL, nearly fifty years ago depending on how much time had passed between my death and my rebirth..
The Kingdom of Cavenze I was only vaguely familiar with. Situated north of the Empire of Ordia and separated by a large area of wild highlands, the region was known for its naval force. If the cannons were from the Turquoise Coast, then the ship could be from almost anywhere. The loose collection of merchant states occupied a rocky peninsula and several islands that jutted into the Central Sea from the highlands south of Cavenze. Many parts of the Turquoise Coast were known to hire privateers and rumored to harbor pirates. My source for this was a series of adventure fantasy books about a band of Turquoiser pirates with hearts of gold, so I probably shouldn’t try to read deeper into this ship’s history unless I find something else.
Unfortunately, neither region spoke Ordian notably, although I imagine the Turquoise Coast used it frequently for trade. With how long the wreck had been here, there were likely no survivors around unless they’d settled permanently on the island. Even if there were, I might not have been able to speak with them.
Beyond the initial room I found a hallway and stairs up, but more importantly, four doors leading to cabins, three of which were open. I entered the first on the left and found what must have been quarters for a few crewmembers. There were small footlockers along a wall below the rotten remains of hammocks. They were already open and aside from a few articles of clothing reduced to a gross heap there was nothing else.
I turned to leave and heard footsteps approaching the door. A second later a skeleton like below, but in much better condition, dashed in holding a rusty saber. The front of the undead’s once-white blouse was slashed and the ribcage showed damage.
I managed to avoid the swing. I swung my leg around and kicked the animate pile of bones just under the shoulder. Bones shattered and the undead launched across the small room to slam into the wall.
I checked the other rooms more carefully. The two open ones were the same, but the third door was stuck against something. I shouldered it open accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. Inside was a room much like the other ones, but in significantly better shape and with what looked like only one occupant. A table or desk of some kind had been propped against the door. Sat slumped in the corner was another skeleton lying in a dark stain. A dagger rested by its hand. This one stayed unmoving. Its clothes were in better condition, but not by much.
The only real thing of note was a closed footlocker. It was locked, but the dead individual had the key in their pocket, which I liberated after some small hesitation. The inside of the footlocker was somehow, miraculously, dry. There was a dagger in a leather sheath sitting on top of a neatly folded tan blouse and a pair of light brown trousers. There was also a pair of men’s drawers. In the corner was a small sack half full of silver and copper coins. Most were minted in Liseu, which I knew to be the largest city along the Turquoise Coast. A Turquoiser ship then, probably. Unfortunately, that only narrowed the location of this island down to “the known world”. Great, just great.
Having found at least some sort of solution to my nakedness, I tried to get dressed. The drawers and my hips disagreed, so I set them aside. The trousers were, thankfully, much looser but my tail presented a problem. The solution I found was to wear them backwards, using the part with the drawstring in front as a place for my tail to sit. They still seemed small, however; tight at the hips and reaching barely halfway down my shins.
The blouse had too few sleeves. Carefully, with a claw, I cut two more holes for my other arms. The blouse was meant to be very loose, which saved it, just barely from being constricting around my chest. The sleeves were too short and I was glad the blouse was meant to be long since it barely covered my midsection.
Had the previous owner of these clothes been short, or was I tall? I certainly seemed taller than the skeletons, but that wasn’t much to go on. I could only imagine I looked ridiculous. Despite that, the feeling of cotton, however old and stiff, on my skin was welcome and familiar.
The dagger’s sheath had leather ribbons I could use to secure it around my waist. The trousers had pockets to hold the money, which I took out of principle.
Clothed and ready to finish exploring this place, I gave a solemn nod to the man (probably) in the corner and headed upstairs. A door at the top opened to the sun-bleached deck. There were two doors behind me to what I hoped was the captain’s quarters. Both were open and smashed.
Inside, the large room was a mess, and the place had only decayed further from exposure to the elements. I set about searching the rubble for anything of value that might have been left behind. I didn’t see any skeletons, but I kept an ear out just in case. Sure enough, the pile in the middle of the room shifted noisily.
Suddenly, a force buffeted me back along with an avalanche of debris. In the center stood a skeleton whose glow was much stronger than the rest. Green light, enough for my aura sight to pick up, glowed between and stitched together the many broken bones. In the undead’s hand was a cutlass, rusted like the rest but wielded with much more grace.
The figure, covered in tattered clothes, dashed at me more quickly than I was prepared for. Just in time, I brought my lower arms up to block the blow aimed at my abdomen. I expected to be cut, I expected pain. What I did not expect was the sword to stop and slide off my forearms.
Not wasting the chance, I leaned into what seemed natural for my body and tried to counterattack. I changed my posture and got more strength behind my punch.
Crack!
I broke a rib and the skeleton stumbled back before quickly regaining its balance. Back and forth we traded blows. A direct hit from the undead’s sword managed to draw blood on my forearm. I managed to keep my new clothes intact by blocking or dodging, but my form was still terrible. Without my durability, I would be losing, and badly. Luckily for me, my weak hits broke more brittle bones and the skeleton began to move with less and less grace. A final kick cracked the thing’s spine and it crumpled to a heap, light dying in its eye sockets.
I checked the remains. The sword was dull and rusted, but may have its use, so I held onto it for now. From the shifted ruins of the room a small tube of metal stuck up. I picked it up, and found it to be a spyglass that seemed intact. Elated, I ran out onto the deck and tested it. A bit scratched, a little foggy, but working! Of course, there was nothing to look at down here, but with this, I would be able to check that smudge on the horizon and watch for ships much more easily.
Excitement allowed me to momentarily forget about my current situation, and I left the ship in high spirits after stopping to take the intact footlocker and its key. The tide was coming back in, but I managed to make it to shore safely while carrying my finds in the footlocker. Hooray for four arms!
The sun had moved to midafternoon and from it, I could tell that this peninsula was on the island’s south side. I made up my mind to stay here, at least until I could get rescued or find another way off the island. The immense rock at its terminus seemed much larger down here than from the top of the mountain. It’s flat-looking top seemed the most logical place to try to build a more permanent shelter, so I walked into the trees toward where I hoped I could easily climb the massive landmark.
On the way, I passed a small clearing. I walked past a couple of cut stumps before I realized exactly what a cut stump implied. I quickly set the footlocker on the old stump and searched the area. Mostly grown over was a firepit that hadn’t seen any use in a very long time. The circle of barely visible stones was the only evidence of habitation I could find in the area, aside from a small vine-covered mound that may have once been a structure of some sort. I kicked and scratched at it, revealing some rotting logs and a few nails that thankfully didn’t pierce my skin.
I didn’t hold much hope for finding anyone. This clearing was most likely where survivors of the wreck would have gone. Mutiny had clearly happened at some point or another, but whether it happened before or after the wreck, I’d never know. Counting the footlockers, there were at least thirteen individuals, four of which I could account for. It’s possible the crew was still on the island, but I doubted it since the ship was only partially looted.
If the feline monster was around when the wreck happened and the crew stumbled into its territory, I doubt they would have survived. I wondered what the extent of its territory was? Could it be the whole island or are there still other terrors out there I have had the good fortune not to encounter?
Well, they can have their stupid island. I’ll take the rock. And a source of fresh water. Hopefully, some other terrifying monster hasn’t already claimed it. I looked toward the looming stone with a touch more trepidation. I’d committed to climbing it in my mind and now I was committed to conquering it. The view it afforded gave me the best chance at survival. I doubted I could make a boat with working sails and while I could probably make a raft, I had less confidence in that than being discovered. I wasn’t the first human to set foot here. Technically, I wasn’t a human, but the point’s the same.
I made it without incident to the base of the rock. No fresh water, on the way I saw several types of fruit along with palm trees bearing unripe coconuts. Doubtless there was small game on the peninsula as well. I was able to crack open a fallen ripe coconut with little difficulty. I’d never been able to afford a coconut before so I was excited to try it for the first time. The white flesh and liquid inside tasted fine, but I’m glad I saved my money in the past.
Satisfied, I started my ascent up the most gently-sloped part of the immense stone monolith. It wasn’t terribly difficult. My endurance surprised me; I wasn’t winded at all when I reached the top. Relatively flat and covered mostly in shrubs. A few trees clung on where the dirt was deeper. Overall, the rock’s top was in my mind a nearly perfect spot to make camp. The view was commanding; I took out my spyglass and looked toward the smudge. It was indeed some other island, but it was too far away to see detail.
The highest parts of the rock faced the ocean and shielded the clearing, although the tops of the trees that stuck into the wind were bent harshly. I turned back and faced the spot I’d claimed. It was time to get to work.
Skip unless you want to read extra content on the island (some of which, like the condition and events of the ship, have been changed). The most important events of this chapter have already been covered in the previous chapter.
Dark, moldering, half full of sand and sea life, the bottom floor of the ship had been remade by the tide. My horns scraped furrows into the roof and I bent into a half crouch until the slant of the wreck raised the ceiling enough for me to stand. Even then, my horns came uncomfortably close to the roof. Ahead of me the rotten deck was broken in places, dark pools of water visible below. I stuck next to the rocks piercing the wood and made my way forward toward a door at the rear of the room, using my tail to balance and my claws to hold to anything within reach.
I pulled the handle, but the swollen wood had fused the door shut. I gave a sharp tug and the rotten piece of wood broke off in my hand. I stared at it for a moment before realizing that I could just kick the door in.
I turned and kicked the door with the heel of my foot, hard. My foot went through the door and my other foot went through the deck below.
“Shit!”
The deck sagged around me, forcing my legs further apart. I pitched forward and pulled myself free. This place was a deathtrap. Supernatural durability wouldn’t save me from getting stuck and drowning. Against my better judgment, I decided to keep exploring and tore the door apart from the hole I kicked in it.
Inside was a damp, moldering room full of crates and barrels. The smell of rot was thick on the stagnant air. What drew my attention the most, however, was a pile of rotten clothes slumped against the wall near the prow. A dirty skull stared at me from above the collar. I screamed.
The skull moaned. I screamed louder. Dim, sickly green lights appeared in its eye sockets and it shambled upright. I should have expected to find a body in a place like this. Undead were another thing entirely. It staggered upright; a rusty sword held in its hand.
I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. Nothing. The ship was too waterlogged to burn, right? I called forth my mana. Frustration. This thing is ruining my fun! How dare it assault me!
Managing the anger my magic threatened to conjure, I basked in the feeling of superiority and produced a gout of flame to burn the skeleton as it stumbled toward me. The heat wicked away moisture and charred the rotten clothes, but the thing took another stumbling step forward. Aside from being charred, it seemed undamaged and my confidence faltered. I took a step back and my tail felt the wall.
It swung clumsily. I tried to dodge but couldn’t seem to make my body move correctly. The blade slashed across my forearm. It broke into rusted pieces. I hardly even felt it.
My fear evaporated. Could this thing even hurt me? The skeleton swung again with the rusted hunk of junk. I was able to move to the side easily this time and the undead stumbled forward into the wall. I brought my upper left arm back and tried to punch with all the force I could muster.
Years ago, my father tried to teach me how to throw a punch. I was never good at it, and I never much cared to learn. Now though, I was, well, still terrible at it. My fist carried little of my strength and the motion felt awkward and forced, but when I hit the thing’s back, bones cracked and splintered. The skeleton slammed into the wall before collapsing into a motionless heap.
How strong was I? Was the skeleton just that weak? Were the bones that fragile after sitting down here for who knows how long? How about its sword? Questions raced through my mind in time with my heart rate.
Still shaking lightly, I picked up the broken weapon handle and the biggest piece of blade I could see. The blade was a swollen piece of rust and flaked apart as I held it. From the handle, I could tell it had rusted almost entirely through.
With no small amount of trepidation, I checked the remains. The tunic and trousers it wore were falling apart, but the back of the tunic looked like it might have been slashed. With very little idea what I was looking at, I couldn’t tell anything from the bones, but all this did make me wonder how this individual died.
Checking the crates and barrels proved to be a mistake. While one or two held small cannon balls and supplies that were far too damaged to be of use, the remaining ones that weren’t empty held some kind of dried food or hard tack in a very advanced state of rot. I Just barely succeeded in keeping my breakfast down.
More important was the lack of a way to the upper decks. Dejected, but not ready to give up, I carefully made my way back out of the wreck. To my relief, the tide didn’t look to be coming in yet. The broken section was unstable, but after some careful trial and error, I found a place that seemed to hold my weight. Short as the decks were and tall as I was, I was able to get a grip on the floor above and I pulled myself up with my top pair of arms.
This deck was in significantly better shape than the one below it. Not so much the first room which had seen wind, rain and perhaps the occasional wave scour it of most objects. Left in place, however, were three cannons in front of three of four closed hatches. Green with age, they nevertheless stole my attention; I’d never seen one up close before. I knew next to nothing about the guns, which seemed larger than I imagined they would be from the ammunition I saw below. However, the casting was expertly done, something I knew enough about to appreciate.
Importantly there was a name and a date on the side of each: Cardozo, it sounded Cavenish, or maybe Turquoiser. Neither region was part of the Empire, but both were in the north. The date was 1303 AL, nearly fifty years ago depending on how much time had passed between my death and my rebirth..
The Kingdom of Cavenze I was only vaguely familiar with. Situated north of the Empire of Ordia and separated by a large area of wild highlands, the region was known for its naval force. If the cannons were from the Turquoise Coast, then the ship could be from almost anywhere. The loose collection of merchant states occupied a rocky peninsula and several islands that jutted into the Central Sea from the highlands south of Cavenze. Many parts of the Turquoise Coast were known to hire privateers and rumored to harbor pirates. My source for this was a series of adventure fantasy books about a band of Turquoiser pirates with hearts of gold, so I probably shouldn’t try to read deeper into this ship’s history unless I find something else.
Unfortunately, neither region spoke Ordian notably, although I imagine the Turquoise Coast used it frequently for trade. With how long the wreck had been here, there were likely no survivors around unless they’d settled permanently on the island. Even if there were, I might not have been able to speak with them.
Beyond the initial room I found a hallway and stairs up, but more importantly, four doors leading to cabins, three of which were open. I entered the first on the left and found what must have been quarters for a few crewmembers. There were small footlockers along a wall below the rotten remains of hammocks. They were already open and aside from a few articles of clothing reduced to a gross heap there was nothing else.
I turned to leave and heard footsteps approaching the door. A second later a skeleton like below, but in much better condition, dashed in holding a rusty saber. The front of the undead’s once-white blouse was slashed and the ribcage showed damage.
I managed to avoid the swing. I swung my leg around and kicked the animate pile of bones just under the shoulder. Bones shattered and the undead launched across the small room to slam into the wall.
I checked the other rooms more carefully. The two open ones were the same, but the third door was stuck against something. I shouldered it open accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. Inside was a room much like the other ones, but in significantly better shape and with what looked like only one occupant. A table or desk of some kind had been propped against the door. Sat slumped in the corner was another skeleton lying in a dark stain. A dagger rested by its hand. This one stayed unmoving. Its clothes were in better condition, but not by much.
The only real thing of note was a closed footlocker. It was locked, but the dead individual had the key in their pocket, which I liberated after some small hesitation. The inside of the footlocker was somehow, miraculously, dry. There was a dagger in a leather sheath sitting on top of a neatly folded tan blouse and a pair of light brown trousers. There was also a pair of men’s drawers. In the corner was a small sack half full of silver and copper coins. Most were minted in Liseu, which I knew to be the largest city along the Turquoise Coast. A Turquoiser ship then, probably. Unfortunately, that only narrowed the location of this island down to “the known world”. Great, just great.
Having found at least some sort of solution to my nakedness, I tried to get dressed. The drawers and my hips disagreed, so I set them aside. The trousers were, thankfully, much looser but my tail presented a problem. The solution I found was to wear them backwards, using the part with the drawstring in front as a place for my tail to sit. They still seemed small, however; tight at the hips and reaching barely halfway down my shins.
The blouse had too few sleeves. Carefully, with a claw, I cut two more holes for my other arms. The blouse was meant to be very loose, which saved it, just barely from being constricting around my chest. The sleeves were too short and I was glad the blouse was meant to be long since it barely covered my midsection.
Had the previous owner of these clothes been short, or was I tall? I certainly seemed taller than the skeletons, but that wasn’t much to go on. I could only imagine I looked ridiculous. Despite that, the feeling of cotton, however old and stiff, on my skin was welcome and familiar.
The dagger’s sheath had leather ribbons I could use to secure it around my waist. The trousers had pockets to hold the money, which I took out of principle.
Clothed and ready to finish exploring this place, I gave a solemn nod to the man (probably) in the corner and headed upstairs. A door at the top opened to the sun-bleached deck. There were two doors behind me to what I hoped was the captain’s quarters. Both were open and smashed.
Inside, the large room was a mess, and the place had only decayed further from exposure to the elements. I set about searching the rubble for anything of value that might have been left behind. I didn’t see any skeletons, but I kept an ear out just in case. Sure enough, the pile in the middle of the room shifted noisily.
Suddenly, a force buffeted me back along with an avalanche of debris. In the center stood a skeleton whose glow was much stronger than the rest. Green light, enough for my aura sight to pick up, glowed between and stitched together the many broken bones. In the undead’s hand was a cutlass, rusted like the rest but wielded with much more grace.
The figure, covered in tattered clothes, dashed at me more quickly than I was prepared for. Just in time, I brought my lower arms up to block the blow aimed at my abdomen. I expected to be cut, I expected pain. What I did not expect was the sword to stop and slide off my forearms.
Not wasting the chance, I leaned into what seemed natural for my body and tried to counterattack. I changed my posture and got more strength behind my punch.
Crack!
I broke a rib and the skeleton stumbled back before quickly regaining its balance. Back and forth we traded blows. A direct hit from the undead’s sword managed to draw blood on my forearm. I managed to keep my new clothes intact by blocking or dodging, but my form was still terrible. Without my durability, I would be losing, and badly. Luckily for me, my weak hits broke more brittle bones and the skeleton began to move with less and less grace. A final kick cracked the thing’s spine and it crumpled to a heap, light dying in its eye sockets.
I checked the remains. The sword was dull and rusted, but may have its use, so I held onto it for now. From the shifted ruins of the room a small tube of metal stuck up. I picked it up, and found it to be a spyglass that seemed intact. Elated, I ran out onto the deck and tested it. A bit scratched, a little foggy, but working! Of course, there was nothing to look at down here, but with this, I would be able to check that smudge on the horizon and watch for ships much more easily.
Excitement allowed me to momentarily forget about my current situation, and I left the ship in high spirits after stopping to take the intact footlocker and its key. The tide was coming back in, but I managed to make it to shore safely while carrying my finds in the footlocker. Hooray for four arms!
The sun had moved to midafternoon and from it, I could tell that this peninsula was on the island’s south side. I made up my mind to stay here, at least until I could get rescued or find another way off the island. The immense rock at its terminus seemed much larger down here than from the top of the mountain. It’s flat-looking top seemed the most logical place to try to build a more permanent shelter, so I walked into the trees toward where I hoped I could easily climb the massive landmark.
On the way, I passed a small clearing. I walked past a couple of cut stumps before I realized exactly what a cut stump implied. I quickly set the footlocker on the old stump and searched the area. Mostly grown over was a firepit that hadn’t seen any use in a very long time. The circle of barely visible stones was the only evidence of habitation I could find in the area, aside from a small vine-covered mound that may have once been a structure of some sort. I kicked and scratched at it, revealing some rotting logs and a few nails that thankfully didn’t pierce my skin.
I didn’t hold much hope for finding anyone. This clearing was most likely where survivors of the wreck would have gone. Mutiny had clearly happened at some point or another, but whether it happened before or after the wreck, I’d never know. Counting the footlockers, there were at least thirteen individuals, four of which I could account for. It’s possible the crew was still on the island, but I doubted it since the ship was only partially looted.
If the feline monster was around when the wreck happened and the crew stumbled into its territory, I doubt they would have survived. I wondered what the extent of its territory was? Could it be the whole island or are there still other terrors out there I have had the good fortune not to encounter?
Well, they can have their stupid island. I’ll take the rock. And a source of fresh water. Hopefully, some other terrifying monster hasn’t already claimed it. I looked toward the looming stone with a touch more trepidation. I’d committed to climbing it in my mind and now I was committed to conquering it. The view it afforded gave me the best chance at survival. I doubted I could make a boat with working sails and while I could probably make a raft, I had less confidence in that than being discovered. I wasn’t the first human to set foot here. Technically, I wasn’t a human, but the point’s the same.
I made it without incident to the base of the rock. No fresh water, on the way I saw several types of fruit along with palm trees bearing unripe coconuts. Doubtless there was small game on the peninsula as well. I was able to crack open a fallen ripe coconut with little difficulty. I’d never been able to afford a coconut before so I was excited to try it for the first time. The white flesh and liquid inside tasted fine, but I’m glad I saved my money in the past.
Satisfied, I started my ascent up the most gently-sloped part of the immense stone monolith. It wasn’t terribly difficult. My endurance surprised me; I wasn’t winded at all when I reached the top. Relatively flat and covered mostly in shrubs. A few trees clung on where the dirt was deeper. Overall, the rock’s top was in my mind a nearly perfect spot to make camp. The view was commanding; I took out my spyglass and looked toward the smudge. It was indeed some other island, but it was too far away to see detail.
The highest parts of the rock faced the ocean and shielded the clearing, although the tops of the trees that stuck into the wind were bent harshly. I turned back and faced the spot I’d claimed. It was time to get to work.
