10-03-2009, 01:33 PM
Water... he mumbled to himself, shifting his head slightly. He felt more of it coming down on his muzzle. Waterrr, he mumbled again, licking his lips as he felt it coming down harder. He opened his eyes, only to be met with the flash of lightning, the boom of thunder, and relentless rain pouring onto his eyes. "Gah!" he yelled out, sitting up straight and nearly tossing the boat over. "What... how?" He looked on in disbelief, not even knowing how he had fallen asleep. He couldn't remember much of yesterday, seeing as he hadn't eaten in the past few days on the sea. He ran out of food on the third day, and it was easily a week after that now. Sinatra's ribs were visible through his white fur, spotted randomly with black spots and they weren't very healthy looking. "Oh god, oh god!" He fumbled through the rowboat for the cheap tarp he had bought before he left his old home island, looking for adventure. "I'm so stupid!" He growled, scowling as he pulled the tarp over the boat and secured it down. "Oh, please just let me live," He curled into a ball, hugging his arms to his sides and curling his skinny tail around him as much as he could. "Even if I die, just...let me go peacefully." He didn't pray much, if ever, but right now it was all he could do and wait for the sun to rise.
Mmm, sand sure is comfortable… he thought to himself, hugging the golden sparkles closer to his body. ”Sure is…” he said, this time out loud. ”Wait…” He cracked an eye open and was met with blinding light, this time the sun not lightning. ”Sand… sun… beach… Alive?!” He shot up again, this time not on his boat but on land. ”I’m alive!” he exclaimed, finding his backpack and looking through it quickly. Surprisingly enough, everything was in tact. Rings, a journal from his mother, and an old pistol from his father. He tried to remember what it was called, and he remembered it being called a… ‘revolver’. His father had taught him how to use it when he was a pup, barely a few months old. He smiled as he felt over the silver metal, and gently put it back. He clicked his tongue ring against his teeth as he looked around, his pink eyes scanning the beach. He had no clue where he was, or who lived here. He got a ping of fear if it was in coyote territory. He carefully picked himself up and started down the beach. He didn’t make it a few hundred meters before he collapsed, hungry and thirsty, seeing as he hadn’t eaten or had a drink in over a week. ”So I’m going to die here… not in the water… heh…” He closed his eyes, waiting to accept his fate.
Mmm, sand sure is comfortable… he thought to himself, hugging the golden sparkles closer to his body. ”Sure is…” he said, this time out loud. ”Wait…” He cracked an eye open and was met with blinding light, this time the sun not lightning. ”Sand… sun… beach… Alive?!” He shot up again, this time not on his boat but on land. ”I’m alive!” he exclaimed, finding his backpack and looking through it quickly. Surprisingly enough, everything was in tact. Rings, a journal from his mother, and an old pistol from his father. He tried to remember what it was called, and he remembered it being called a… ‘revolver’. His father had taught him how to use it when he was a pup, barely a few months old. He smiled as he felt over the silver metal, and gently put it back. He clicked his tongue ring against his teeth as he looked around, his pink eyes scanning the beach. He had no clue where he was, or who lived here. He got a ping of fear if it was in coyote territory. He carefully picked himself up and started down the beach. He didn’t make it a few hundred meters before he collapsed, hungry and thirsty, seeing as he hadn’t eaten or had a drink in over a week. ”So I’m going to die here… not in the water… heh…” He closed his eyes, waiting to accept his fate.