A slithering slurp. A fleshy burp.

I claw at the back of my head as it tenses. Sounds parade about my senses.

I feel sharp fingers numbering ten After all this time It’s found me again.

I pounce away from my fears Dripping down, come my bloody tears

I splash down muddy trails What little life is within me pails

I find the camp All is still and damp

I leap to safety behind the cabin wall I hear a low whimpering call

It softens to a low hum I lock the door shut tightly,

Behind me I hear “might the monsters come?” And my shoulders droop lightly

I don’t got time to be marooned. I’d bring a boat, a map, and something for reading the stars, to find my way. I’d bring that doohickey what the doc showed me, that can keep my water fresh, and a fishing pole to keep me fed. Spose it’d be good to bring Jeremiah, so he can necromance Maelstrom for me. Though, as I’m the the one what killed him in the first place I reckon he’s unlikely to be terribly diplomatic bout teleporting me back to the main land. Got to try though, eh?