The ocean felt endless from the little dinghy. The press of Kila against my shoulder was overwhelming and sweaty.

Three days since the The Pearl sank, Lanta sat in the rower’s seat. Despite my aching arms, I counted the seconds until my turn.

The sun started to set over the horizon.

“Should I scrounge dinner together?” I asked.

“I’m starving,” Kila said.

“Go on. Perishables first.” Lanta said, letting the oars fall limp so I could move around the dinghy without going overboard.

“Aye, aye, captain,” I responded, giving a fake salute.

Lanta rolled his eyes and pulled out his map and compass. Normally, I’d mock him for checking the route so often. But this wasn’t normal circumstances, we needed to find shore soon.

“Where are we?” Kila asked.

I carefully climbed over to the couple of barrels we had saved.

“Hard to say. We were three days east of the colonies by The Pearl’s standards. But at our pace, it might be another week to shore, if we’re lucky,” Lanta said, fiddling with his compass.

“How the hell are we going to last another week out here?”

“We have the rations for it.”

Kila huffed. That wasn’t what she meant; he knew it, and I knew it.

I dug out our last bottle of rum and some stale bread. I dreaded tomorrow night, when the bottle was empty, and the endless sea would be visible only with the star’s faint light. With Kila pressed into my side, and the icy wind biting my skin, I felt like a caged animal. A blind rabbit, alone in a field, waiting for a predator.

I tipped the bottle of rum upwards and chugged as much as I could without gagging. Then I passed it to Kila and asked, “Are we going to talk about what happened that night?”

“No,” Lanta said. He tried to be firm, but his voice wavered.

“We can’t ignore it forever. It’ll find us again.” Kila said.

“Don’t!” Lanta snapped. “Don’t you dare mention a thing about it! We’re sitting ducks out here, and that thing is just waiting to strike.”

We fell silent. Each bite of the stale bread took a minute to swallow. The sky lost its pink tint now, trading it with consuming purple, leading to our demise.

“It was a monster, wasn’t it?” Kila said.

Lanta glared in warning. But he wasn’t our First Mate anymore. We were all just survivors of the sea’s wrath, equal. He bowed his head, “I don’t know. But I looked into its eyes swirling black like whirlpools. Its open mouth, had hundreds of layers of teeth.”

“Is it going to come back for us?” I asked him.

“In all my years sailing, I’ve learned that you don’t insult the sea. She’s the one in control. And she’ll punish you if you don’t give her proper respect.”

We sat on that for a long time. We sat with our stale bread, and our fear.

The sun set. Kila and I huddled together for protection. I closed my eyes, prayed for sleep, then woke to a loud crash.

We jolted upward, looking towards the horizon.

“There’s a storm brewing. We need to move,” Lanta said, grabbing the oars.

“It’s a storm, we can’t outrun it!” I cried.

“We have to try,” Lanta said. I met his gaze, feeling so utterly mortal. We would die out here, and nothing we could do would stop it. Kila slid into the foot compartment, dragging me with her.

It was so, so dark. Without even the light of the moon, I couldn’t see a thing. The sound of the ocean waves grew angry as they lapped against the side of the dinghy. Kila was trying to keep her breathing steady.

The rain beat against my skin, and soaked me to the bone. There was the sound of snapping wood, and then I sank into the sea.

I flailed and opened my eyes wide. And through the pitch-black water, and the panic, I swore I could make out swirling black eyes.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero