Running Low
Empty barrels, a distant island, and rising fear.
The storm had taken almost everything they needed to survive at sea.
Half of their food had been washed away, and two water barrels were lost.
What remained was counted carefully and shared in very small amounts each day.
Mara measured their position and said the island was still ten days away.
Ten days was a long time for a crew with so little food and water.
The sun grew hot, and began to trouble every one of them.
Diego argued that they should turn the boat around and sail back home.
"If we turned back now, we would reach the coast in half the time," he said.
Kai understood the fear behind his words, but he shook his head slowly.
"If we gave up here, my grandfather's whole life would mean nothing," he replied.
Lena did her best to keep everyone healthy with the little that was left.
She boiled seawater at night and caught the fresh drops in a clean cloth.
Tomas fixed a smaller sail from the torn pieces they had saved after the storm.
Still, the mood on board grew darker with each empty and burning day.
At night, the crew whispered about home, family, and the things they missed most.
Kai wrote in his grandfather's old to keep his own fear under control.
"If I turned back," he wrote, "I would never myself for it."
He wondered whether his grandfather had felt this same many years ago.
made small problems feel enormous, and tempers grew shorter every hour.
One evening, two of the crew nearly fought over a single cup of water.
Kai stepped between them and reminded them why they had come so far.
"We are a crew," he said, "and a crew reaches the together or not at all."
His words calmed them for that night, but the sea offered no promises.
And deep inside, even Kai was beginning to wonder if he had led them to their deaths.