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Weekly Contest #67
The salty air tore its way through her hair, tossed it brusquely in the wind. The prow of the boat cleaved the frothy waves below. She thought the weather would have warmed more as they drew closer to the island, but the cold was still biting. They must be near it now, though. They had to be. She pulled out her telescope, scanning the flat horizon for any spec of land in the distance. Nothing. Then a sound behind her: a voice calling out. She whipped around to see a deckhand, gesturing excitedly towards the sky. She didn’t see it at fir...
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