[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/cool-fonts/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/170819/8b0576d22af1ff14fc70840d51c53ea4.png[/img][/url]
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Hamlet to Horatio[/center]

Sandy had only been aboard the raft with the other survivors perhaps an hour as they tried to make for the Island in the distance paddling with their hands only to realise they were caught in a strong ocean current and all their effort wasted. She had simply laid back and relaxed just as she would have if she’d gotten lost on a dig; you never got anywhere when you focused on the negatives when the primary one was so important.

The others handled things as they found fit and she didn’t interfere or allow herself to be drawn into any squabbles and it was while weathering one such debate she saw writing across the raft and bored decided to read it. It was an idiot manual and she was thankful for it as she had no idea of how to properly use a rescue raft. It was printed on the outside of a velcroed pocket that contained a sea anchor, flare pistol and three flare rounds, hand fishing tackle and a survival manual printed on waterproof pages.

Naturally she surrendered the flares and flare gun to one of the men then deployed the sea anchor into the strong current so the raft was less at the mercy of the winds. Then she searched the rest of the raft finding the inflatable roof that’s primary duty was to protect them from the sun. 

The fishing kit came under discussion by the men as she leaned back on the cushion she’d pulled aboard with her knowing it was not simply something to rest her head on but her life vest after a fashion and a practical girl she saw no good reason to think differently.

Two days passed as their raft rolled on tall seas dragging them who the hell knew where and Sandy began to worry because she was beginning to feel the effects of dehydration and thought they had perhaps two more days before they began to suffer it’s brutal onset and then it began to rain and everyone gorged themselves on rainwater as if it were the finest drink ever presented.  And so it was that a happy group so began to realize that the rain was not stopping and the seas grew unfriendly.

Somewhere in the morning or next day a nasty wave capsized the raft and Sandy was swept away her last sight of the others clinging to the overturned raft as she clung to her faithful cushion. The sea and storm matched themselves to her will finding iron which they began to hammer. 

How long her ordeal lasted Sandy couldn’t say or when she passed out but she did know she was covered in sticks weeds and sand clutching the cushion in a death grip that took effort to open when she sat up. She was 150 feet from the surf in what must be the storm surge limit and she was alive; alone but alive. As far as her previous survival chances went this was a vast improvement and she knew she needed to get off her rear and get to acquiring the 3 necessities of survival; water, food, and shelter.

Her first find was a lucky one, water and it was cold and clean and in fitting with what was a northern subtropical environment. There were no palms but rich evergreens signaling this area has cold winters then there were other clues but she didn’t care as she stripped and plunged into the pool to wash all the salt and sand from her body.



[color=yellow] This is a highjacking because I’m tired of RP ending without a word.
Don’t know where I’m exactly heading but I’m in for discussion on the topic[/color]