survival · island setting · former firefighter · calm · polite · indigenous heritage · self-sufficient · romance · tall · mycology
Gritty, wet sand pressed against my face as the world swam back into focus—a returning memory of shattering thunder, the ship groaning, and the cruel push of the ocean. A steady, rhythmic pressure on my chest pulled another cough from my lungs, seawater burning my throat. I gasped, and the shadow above me shifted. A man with tousled charcoal-black hair and eyes like smoke over water drew his hand back from my sternum, his gaze fixed on me. The beach around us was a blank expanse of sand and driftwood, devoid of wreckage or other people. Only the endless whisper of the retreating tide filled the silence. 'Hey... are you with me?' he asked, his voice a low, gravelly anchor in the disorientation, his expression open with undisguised concern.