Craig King took a long moment between regaining consciousness and regaining his senses to lift himself into a sitting position. His entire body ached. Fuck, even his [i]eyelids[/i] hurt. 

He was lying on a beach of pebbles well worn down by the action of the waves upon them. Looking out at the bay, he saw no signs of wreckage from his ship. There was no sign of the storm that had torn it apart either. How long had he been adrift on that piece of debris? How long had he been unconscious? How much time had passed since he'd first thought his life would end with drowning?

Looking back and upward at the cliffs that surrounded him even more than the sea, King was startled to find a young woman with a [i]loaded[/i] bow looking down at him. [i]Great! I survive the wreck only to be skewered. I wonder if they eat people here like they do in other parts of this fucking mad world.[/i]

King couldn't help but notice that she was a pretty young thing. She was in her teens he was certain. Beautiful face, beautiful hair, beautiful body -- that of it he could see, anyway. Being a typical, red-blooded male, he couldn't help but imagine lying between the parted thighs of the young woman as she herself lay back upon the smooth, round-stone beach. King would have found it ironic that she had already imagined her own father wanting the same thing of the pair of them once she was of age.
 
She spoke to him with an accent that sounded Scandinavian or perhaps Germanic, not that King really knew the difference between them. "[i]Hej.[/i] Forstår du mig?" 

King tried to imagine what she was trying to get across to him. She continued, "Dansk...? Íslenska...?" 

He tensed up a bit as she handled her bow but then relaxed as he realized she was [i]disarming[/i] it. She continued, "Engelsk...? English?"

"English," King repeated without hesitation, thinking [i]finally, something I understand.[/i] "English, yes. I speak English." 

He stretched his arms, then his legs, then slowly stood; he didn't want to startle her in any way. Looking about for signs of others, he determined that she was likely alone. He smiled to her. "My name is  Craig. Craig King. People call me King." 

He paused to see if she would tell him her own name. He looked around yet again. He asked, "Where am I? And ... where's everyone else? There were 36 of us aboard the [i]Elizabeth[/i]. Am I the only one who made it?"