A fish flopped around on the ground, uselessly gasping for air.

Crabs scuttled back and forth, occasionally fighting eachother for the chance to scavenge the dead flesh that loosely gripped the earth. They had been prisoners once. Some of them still wore thick manacles around their bones.

The horrid stink permeated everything. The worse part was how it changed, depending on the wind and the heat. It was impossible to grow acclimated to it.

“Grim place.” Theo said, using the tip of his boot to nudge a crab onto its back. The six-legged scavenger kicked weakly at the air.

“How many years was this a place of death?” Breem said, her eyes hard.

“Fifty? Sixty? I’m not sure.”

“And now we’re here.”

Theo looked out over the ocean that had receeded, unveiling the sinister history left in the muck. "Yeah. . . "

“Eventually they’re going to realize that we must have taken refuge here. Do you have a plan or are we going to end up like them?”

Theo’s eyes searched the horizon. “Let’s get inside before night comes.”