Excerpt of Across a Wild Sea by Sasha Lord

By morning the squall had died, leaving the ocean a seething mess of seaweed and debris. Planks of wood were scattered along the beach, and bits of wreckage dotted the coast. Alannah used a stick to walk along the sand, checking her path before stepping forward. Her senses hummed with the aftermath of the storm. The electricity generated by thunder and lighting was one of the few things that made her truly defenseless, for her senses became overloaded. Her hearing, her feeling, her sense of smell- even her extrasensory perception- became useless for a period of time.

Alannah did not like to admit her vulnerability, especially to herself.

This morning, she walked along the beach, reestablishing her equilibrium.

Bit by bit, she regained her senses, testing them and smiling when they responded to her silent requests.

Her bare toes curled in the wet gravel, and she could feel the soft silt of newly tossed ocean floor cast upon the Isle's beach. With a quick intake of breath she paused before stepping on a jellyfish. She could feel the creature's life force. Carefully avoiding it, she knelt down and let her hands hover. The vibration of electrical pulses spread to her fingertips and she smiled softly.

Using a piece of bark, she scooped up the jellyfish along with some sand and carefully returned him to the sea. The cry of seagulls caught her attention as she straightened and she turned her head, listening to their warning signals. Cautiously exiting the rippling waves, she followed the bird sounds. Her stick bumped against a log that had not been on the beach before, and Alannah smelled it. It was freshly burnt, probably struck by lighting in the storm. Touching the fallen tree, she felt the remaining heat that simmered deep in the tree's core.

The effects of the storm had faded. She could feel everything again. She stood facing the sea and let nature spread through her. She was connected to the island and every animal on it. This was her home, her family.

The seagulls cried again, and Alannah frowned. Something was amiss. The birds were disturbed and Alannah could feel something out of place. She stepped over the log and walked slowly forward, seeking the cause of her disquiet.

Xanthier crawled up onto the beach, his body trembling with fatigue and shivering with cold and his face blazing with pain. His fingertips were blue where they were wound around the barrel's bindings and he could not feel his toes, but the feel of earth beneath his knees was incredible. He stared angrily at the sky, reveling in his success against the storm. No man, nor beast, nor act of God would beat him!

He uncurled his fingers and flexed them, making the blood rush through his hand once more. Then he touched his face, feeling the ravaged flesh where the burns blistered. The action was excruciatingly painful, but Xanthier did not flinch. He slowly rose to his feet and took a breath.

Taking slow, deliberate steps he walked up the beach, searching for shelter. He knew he needed to tend his wounds. He knew he needed sustenance. It did not occur to him to feel sorrow over his shipmates. His heart was cold. He lurched to the ground, weak, but he rose again. Weakness would not subdue him! he raged internally. He would perish without taking the necessary steps to survive. Xanthier clenched his teeth and frowned. The storm had taken the lives of many. Only the strong survived. Only the strong deserved to survive. If anything was weaker than the elements, it should die. It was the way of the world.

Stumbling a few steps further, he rounded a peninsula that formed one arm of a sheltered cove. Above the cove was a cliff with a high, sheer face.

Xanthier frowned, searching for somewhere to rest. A single, stray wave of hopelessness washed over him. Why should he struggle so much? Why not just die? What was there to live for?

A movement up the beach made him spin around, struggling to keep upright. A woman was slowly walking toward him, her auburn hair blowing softly in the gentle breeze. Her face was turned up to the sky and she waved a stick in front of her like a woman swinging a parasol in a manicured garden. He blinked, not certain if what he saw was real. She was like a goddess... so tall and slender... so ethereal and composed. His legs gave way and he fell to his knees. His head screamed in pain and his muscles quivered with fatigue. Black spots danced around his vision, and he tried to clear them by shaking his head. He did not want to lose sight of her. But, despite his powerful force of will, the black spots spread out, and he collapsed unconscious.

Alannah heard a groan and she froze, her stick in mid- swing. It was a new sound to her, a sound that made her shiver instantly. A sense of foreboding overwhelmed her, and she hesitated, not sure what to do. Tilting her head, she listened. Slow, raspy breaths came to her on the wind, breaths that did not sound like any animal she knew. They were deeper, huskier, thicker.

She shook, suddenly frightened for the first time in years. She smelled the breeze, catching a scent that was overpowering in its intensity.

She heard another groan, and abruptly realized that the creature she sensed nearby was hurt. "Oh!" she cried as she walked firmly forward, not allowing her fear to halt her steps.

As she got closer, the sense of strength emanating from the creature made her steps falter yet again. She wrinkled her brow, confused. Then, with a deep breath, she kneeled down and stretched her fingers out. They contacted warm, supple, hairless flesh. She jerked back, stunned. She smelled the air again. No scent of wet fur came to her. She trembled but was inexorably drawn back to touching it again.

Smooth yet hard. Muscled. She stroked down, feeling the contours of a human arm- yet an arm that was three times the size of her own, and easily five times as strong. As her hands swept along the arm, she encountered hands that definitively determined the hurt creature to be a human.

Suddenly filled with both excitement and alarm, she reached out with both hands and gripped the human's shoulders, ran down its slightly furred chest and to the waistband of its clothing that covered the legs. She brushed against a bulge and paused, intrigued, letting her fingers feel what her eyes could not see.

Xanthier woke groggily, feeling feather light touches sweep over him. He was immediately aroused, and without thinking, he grabbed the woman and rolled his body over hers, tucking her easily underneath his body. He leaned down, intending on kissing her, when a blast of pain erupted in his head.