After his visit to the Ridge, Kendry struck out in the ocean again. He should’ve been paying more attention to the sky, however: a summer squall rose up suddenly before he’d gotten more than half a mile away from Atlantis, and the winds and heavy rain made the ocean not only difficult to traverse but dangerous. The waves rolled high over his head and washed him away at will, and Kendry soon found himself fighting a losing battle. Unable to identify in which direction he was supposed to have been swimming, he stopped fighting and focused solely on keeping himself afloat as the storm raged all around him.
Sheer luck brought his scrambling toes to a gentle slope leading up and out of the ocean. Kendry couldn’t free himself from the raging waves fast enough and, spluttering and half-drowned from both rain and saltwater, the soggy draft trots up the rainswept beach and onto the sandy-grassy shoreline. Tall palm trees grow in a staggered line along this informal boundary and he moves to stand beneath one, grateful for the paltry shelter offered under its wide fronds, shivering from exertion despite the balmy air.
Clearly he hadn’t made it back to the Crossing, but that was all right. He snorts and shakes himself out as if that’ll help keep him dry in the middle of a rainstorm, then settles himself in for an uncomfortable wait. |