It was just a second ago that you were happily swimming at the back of your pod. You swooped down and to the side, intending to perform a flip. But the current made up its damned mind and took you by under the arms and forced you farther to the left than you had intended. You beat your tail and reach through the water with your clawed and webbed hands to get back on track, but the ocean dug its heels in and forced you down. The last thing you see before your skull hits some random rock is the rest of your group continuing on, oblivious that they've left one of their family behind.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, the great blue expanse spreading out for miles around you. So you propel yourself to the surface and frantically scan the area. There's land, in the far, far distance! You perk up and immediately start in that direction, pace fast and hurried, excited to finally rest on the sand after a long bout of swimming. Days later, you've come only a bit closer. Exhaustion takes you. It's on and off of waking up, swimming, sleeping, waking up and swimming. You've eaten nothing for at least a week now. Your muscles burn from lack of fuel, and you slip under your eyelids for what you can feel is going to be an age of sleep.

When you wake, you find yourself on a beach. You sit up as best you can and try to get your bearings on the area around you. It looks habited. Very. So you just lay back down with a sigh and brace yourself for whatever you may need to do next to acquire sustenance. But it's just then that you can hear the sound of footsteps in the sand, so you shut your eyes and let your limbs go limp in a way you hope is subtle, hoping whoever's approaching won't notice you're awake.

The footsteps continue to approach you.