Ever since he knew how to read, Andrew imagined himself living the tales of great adventurers.

First, there was Danton the Mage, who dominated Andrew’s youth with daring escapes and treasures of distant lands. Later, as Andrew’s vocabulary grew along with his height, he delved into more scholarly texts. By the time he was 15, he had read every issue of the Anatomy of Survival, penned by the brilliant Aragon Dragonia.

Renowned for both his adventurers and recollections on how to get through near impossible situations, Aragon Dragonia's legends dominated Andrew's life and imagination. Even to this day.

As he sits on his raft with his back to the wind, Andrew recalls fondly of long nights in the castle, dozing in the dusty library with nothing but one of Aragon’s texts for company. He remembers in particular vividness the Labyrinth of Red Sand, a tale about how Aragon wandered lost in the harshness of the western desert for thirty days, before coming up with an ingenious way of escaping that involved a wristband made of scorpion tails, and no small amount of digging.

Andrew has questioned the legitimacy of Aragon's books before, but it doesn't seem useful to do that now. After all, he's counting on his memory of these stories to get through his own Labyrinth. One made of water instead of sand.

Andrew grips the hood of his jacket in both hands. As he rips through the crusty fabric, he finds himself wishing that Aragon can be here with him.

I could really use that clever mind of his, regardless of how honest he really is.

With a sharp tug, he pulls the hood clean off his coat, and sets it down in the middle of the raft next to both his boots. He makes sure the hood is open and facing the grey clouds like a bowl, before sitting back and waiting.

Not to mention it'd be nice just to have someone to talk to.

The last rainfall happened two days ago. It almost drowned Andrew at that time, so it hadn’t occurred to him then to collect some. Now, as thirst drives away all thoughts of moving, he curses his lack of foresight.

He doesn’t like lying down on the wooden floor of the raft, but he has no other choice. His face and chest are both raw from the sun and splinters in the wood have made him into a human hedgehog. Turning on his sides doesn't work though, so he tries lying on his stomach, only to give up almost immediately. It isn't even because of how the splinters dig into his ribs and he has nowhere to set his chin. Being in that position forces Andrew to be closer to the water surface, staring out at the vastness beyond and hitting home how hopelessly lost he is.

Andrew gets up. He’s tried to navigate by the stars at night, but without oars or sail, even if he knows where he is the knowledge is useless.

The edges of his vision start to swim. Andrew blames poor sleep and thirst. He catches sight of something moving in the water to his right, and it takes him a moment to discern it from the waving mirages.

Something grey and thin has come out of the water. Sharp like a blade, Andrew thinks at first that a piece of the raft may have gotten loose and drifted off, but it's moving all wrong. Not carried on the waves, but cutting through it.

Andrew opens his mouth, feeling his lips crack. “Hey!”

His voice comes out rusty. The blade keeps coming, parting the waves.

“Hey!” Andrew yells again, as loud as he can. “What is that!”

Three yards from the raft, the blade dips low. It sinks into the water, disappears.

Andrew stares after it. The water is still again. Holding his breath, Andrew counts to three.

One. Two. Nothing.

Andrew lets out his breath. At the same time, the ground explodes from beneath him. Andrew is tossed into the air. His stomach rises to his throat. As he falls back down, his chin cracks against the raft. Electricity shocks through his jaw, locking his teeth together. The waves lurch overboard as the raft tilts. Andrew feels his body rolling towards the ocean but is too dazed to stop. His eyes fix on the waves, where an oval shape has just materialized from the waves.

Andrew's eyes bulge as his mind understands what he is seeing. The shape sharpens into a creature's head. Pointy and grey, with leathery skin stretched over black eyes and a gaping jaw, it's something Andrew has never seen before. But he knows immediately what it is.

Fear tears out of his lungs as primal instinct takes hold. Andrew lashes out, finding a section of rope between two logs. He jams his fingers under it and pulls to a stop. The raft crashes back onto the ocean surface, flinging Andrew back from the monster's maw.

Teeth snap as the shark's bite misses. But it locks onto the edge of the raft instead, pointed snout inches from Andrew’s scrambling feet.

Andrew kicks out, feeling rough, cold flesh. His foot comes away stinging.

The creature starts to swing its head from side to side. Andrew catches sight of its eyes. Twin jet black orbs, so dark they do not reflect the sunlight, bore at him with a hatred that seems almost human.

The monster gives a snap of its massive body. Splinters fly as a chunk of the raft tears away. Andrew skips across the ocean surface, clinging for dear life to not fall off. Please, gods, he prays and shuts his eyes, let it be quick.

But the cold embrace of the ocean does not come. The raft’s shaking slows, stops. Andrew can’t hear the creature's noises anymore. Opening his eyes, he looks around at the quiet sea.

The monster is gone.

Andrew’s legs are shaking too badly for him to stand. So he sits, then collapses. His chin is bleeding, so is his forehead. He doesn’t have the strength left to treat these minor wounds. Adrenaline has seeped out of him all at once, leaving him quivering and hollow.

The shark is gone. But just like before, another chunk of the raft has been taken away. Andrew forces his arms to move, to crawl. He brings himself over to the edge of the water.

This hole is a lot bigger than the one before, the one on the opposite end of the raft. But like the first one, the monster has left behind a souvenir.

With buzzing fingers, Andrew reaches out among the splinters and pries out the pearly tooth lodged in the wood. Then, holding it close, he falls back to the safer portion of his shrinking raft. And just before unconsciousness takes him, Andrew lets himself wish once more that someone can be here with him.