Title: Red sky at
morning, sailors take warning
Disclaimer: Don't own them; just borrowing.
Spoilers: Through TTLG
Summary: Kate reflects, on the morning the rescue boat is supposed to come.
Note: 100-word drabble for Lost Riffs Day 3: colors at lostsquee.
The sky's not exactly red (but almost) and Kate's never been one for superstition, but still, she recalls the old J-boat captain's oft-quoted proverb.
She sinks at the shore, in the midst of brilliant sunrise, and the best she can feel about impending rescue is foreboding. Quite the opposite of the jubilant hope of yesterday, and she wouldn't be able to explain it if she tried.
But the sky is red (bright orange, like the burning of a house, a man, a life) and she pulls her arms around herself, suddenly chilled.
Batten down the hatches. Storm's coming.