Maerads hair hung in damp clumps down her back. She was shivering from head to toe. Churning waves crashed around her, she had to fight just to keep her head above the water. In the distance she saw the opaque outline of a floating piece of wood, it had to of been the mast.

Memories assailed her mind, striking her down with more pressure than the stormy sea could ever hope to muster.

The blue sky had began its darkening decent into blackness around midday. What had it been….two days ago? Five? Maerad knew not, she had lost count between being unconscious and fighting to keep her head above the waves long enough to breathe. She remembered questioning Cadvan about the impending storm. About just how much harm could it cause. He had nonchalantly said that it was nothing to be concerned about, and when Maerad had looked at him with doubt embedded in her solemn eyes, he had chuckled, stating that she was silly for worrying so much.

His laughter had ended though at the first hard rock of the ship.

The storm roared its wrath to all who bared witness to its roiling masses of shadow. The stern of the ship that Cadvan and her had been traveling on since leaving behind misguided Bards that had chosen to serve Inkir, dipped beneath the churning water. The Entombment of Remembrance, was the name of their vessel. At first Maerad had laughed at the name, but now she saw it immensely fitting. Who would dare name a sleek ship such? It hinted at doom, at the chance that your life would perish upon it. And so theirs had, or were about to. Maerad had no clue as to what had happened to Cadvan, she assumed though, that his body was drifting low down on the ocean floor.

Had it been an omen? The name of the ship? Could all of this had been prevented? If only she had really considered what the name meant at the time. Or if she had had a fore dream. None of this would have happened if she had been more aware. She would know for a fact that Cadvan was alive, and she would not have to question if his eyes were forever empty of all life. Such thoughts hurt. Hurt, as if a demon was clutching her heart in its deadly claws, prying at the tender flesh, ripping veins, letting moist muscle touch air that carried poisons that wreaked havoc upon the body, mind and soul. Such wounds/thoughts were destroying her already.

Maerads head was slammed under yet again, she held her breath as the pounding currents assaulted her already bruised and battered body. White sparks of light danced in her vision as she resurfaced, the only good thing that came out of the torture was that it brought her closer to the lonely mast, floating tauntingly close, but still out of reach.

A ripple of renewed energy allowed her to beat her arms in a frantic measure to reach what might be her wooden savior. Her numb fingers appeared to brush the mast, but she couldn't actually tell. Hallucination was very probable right now, so she would not let herself get her hopes up, it would impair her mind too much if all were to come crashing down.

So she, with strained slowness, reached out again. This time she knew her hand had curled briefly around the shape of the water stained mast.

So close. Maerad only had inches left before grasping the wood firmly.

Somehow Maerad tapped into reserves she never knew she had, and kicked her feet in short desperate strokes, while clawing at the wood with blue tinted fingers. Hypothermia must have set in by now. Unfeeling hands found a secure purchase upon the mast. Maerad dragged her body across it, praying that she did not slide off of it.

Even as relief coursed through her, she wondered why she had bothered. In evaluating her situation, she knew that it was most likely that death was what awaited her. Life was too far away, all she could do was lay limp across a worthless log, and wait for help that would never come.

Why not just let go and let nature take its course?

Why not make things easier and let her already shallow breath stop all together?

Why not give up? No one would ever know. They would understand that she couldn't just hang onto this makeshift raft forever, and that at some point she would have to let go.

So why not make that time be now?

What was it that was holding her back?

Attachment to life? Or the people in it?

Maerads thoughts were confusing, she was no philosopher and did not comprehend her own questions clearly.

Her eyelids fluttered, she fought to keep them open, she really did, despite yearning to let go of it all and give up. But weariness? It overrides all other emotions and take control. Maerad's eyes fluttered helplessly one last time, before remaining closed, sealed with salty brine from the ocean spray.

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Okay, I know I ended my last story quickly, but I felt rushed….sorry to all of y'all disappointed in me, I could have done better, so settle for knowing that my head is bowed in misery and shame. I don't know where this story's going, it was kinda random. I just sat down and then….BOOM! Thoughts, images and words bombard me. So I went with it…..only problem? I don't know where the heck to take it. (sigh) I get myself into too much I think. Start stuff. Finish stuff. Rush stuff. Make stuff……. throw stuff. Lalalalalalalala. We all get the point right? I've got major issues. To be a procrastinator who hates doing stuff right away…..well I sure do manage to get myself loaded down with crap. I'm soooooo smart aren't I? Hmmmmmm. Well I don't know….might end up saying bye-bye to this one…..or not. I don't like quitting stuff. Drives me nuts, even if I hate it. Self torture? Yeah, I'm starting to think I might ought to list it as a characteristic of mine. Goodbye, I hope you think that this one's worth continuing.