dear fellow traveler

He swam until he could swim no longer. And when he reached that point, the dark ranger swam some more. To be honest, it’s a wonder he hadn’t drown already. Raistlyn had never been one for water that went higher than his knees, or any water in general, now that he thought about. Swimming was not an ability factored in his arsenal of skills. A swimming incident his first year of training in the Order had nearly killed him. During the rigurous first Trial he had been a mere yearling, wrestling with a Drowner on the shore of the Black Lake.  True to its name and nature, the hairless water monster had managed to drag his body below and into the black depths of the lake, a cold, empty darkness of ethereal silence that haunted him still. Needless to say, he did not do very much swimming after that particular incident. He had seen the shimmering mirage of the island from the Southern shore, fading in and out of view, like the stars that seem to dim in the night sky once he focused his gaze on a particular one, and as soon as he glanced away, the star shone vividly once more. The sight of the lone island intrigued him, bringing forth a sense of exhilarating adventure he not felt in many years. Ever since he was a mere Potential back in the days of his youth, he had heard rumor of the vanishing isle and its whimsical, elusive nature, but even after all of his seasoned travels in every corner of the Rift, he had never managed to find the hidden island.   Despite the challenge of the long swim, he found, much to his surprise and chagrin, that he could not ignore the intrigue of the mysterious island, nor could he quell the desire to explore, to range far and wide to discover new and strange places.  Raistlyn stumbled onto sand, at last. He coughed, staggering in the warmth of the pale sand, wincing at the taste of sea brine burning his throat. His silver hair hung in thick, wet strands plastered across his neck and the beads of the sea glistened on his striped coat. A sudden, crippling weariness that went deeper than the ache of his muscles swept over him suddenly, urging him to sink to his knees, and then finally, heaving onto his side. He felt incredibly vulnerable, sprawled over in the wet sand like a beached whale, of all things. Raistlyn never lay to find comfortable rest, not unless he was on his probable death bed, which happened more often than he would prefer, but nevertheless, even then it took a great deal of self convincing to rest on the ground. Never. It was a rule he rarely broke, if ever; an iron rule instilled in his survival instincts back when he could hardly walk. Better an uncomfortable sleep standing, than a pleasant one on the ground, defenseless as a newborn fawn. A down horse is a dead horse, the elder rangers would say.  And yet, after all the years of his training, his discipline he could not bring himself to stand. The air seemed clean here, and the essence of the island was not riddled with disease and corruption. It was simply... peaceful. After everything that had happened in the past few days, no—years—the ranger just needed to lay here quietly, for a bit, maybe rest his eyes, that’s all. Destiny, however, did not have a peaceful nap in mind for Raistlyn. A girlish, clear squeal brought him clambering to his feet, damp sand flying out from under him and spraying in his eyes in his haste to stand. He blinked the sand from his eyes rapidly, trying to discern the direction of the rippling laughter that floated whimsically on the breeze. He jogged down the beach, every sense alert. Sirens? Harpies? Which sea creature stalked him, this time? But it was neither. He stopped abruptly. Just a girl. A silver whisp of a girl, playing in the sea, a white raven soaring above her. Why did he always stumble upon women during their private bathings? Couldn’t they find some place less public to frolic about in private? He then remembered that this island was about as remote and isolated of a bathing place that there could possibly be. He cleared his throat, loudly (and awkwardly), not entirely sure how to proceed. He had not expected to meet anyone here.  He was thinking of possible combinations of different words, hoping he could string together somewhat of a cordial sentence, when he saw a dark shadow in the crystal clear water, something disrupting the the gentle waves with an alarming amount of appendages... "Watch out!" His voice was sharp, tense. Not wasting a moment more, he hurled himself into the the waves, bounding through the water, his legs feeling like he was trapped in quicksand, not moving fast enough. He floundered, ramming his body against her slight figure, shoving her through the water towards the beach, half dragging and half drowning her after the initial shove, not stopping until they both stumbled from the sea and fell onto the sand. He glanced back, breathing heavily. The creature was gone.  --- R A I S T L Y N --- of the rift