The marks on the sand were intriguing, and I followed them. Of course I had plenty on my mind: what had happened to the wreckage of our craft, why had my skin changed colour overnight, how was it I wasn’t hungry after three days and nights without food, sleeping in the open?
Those were obvious questions, there were others. Where was I, what time was I in? Where were my companions? There was no point in losing myself in conjectures, I was alive, somehow, and exploring this world.
The tracks seemed to be of those of heavy objects being drawn through the dunes, and they led to a rocky band of land slowly rising away from the shore. I must have walked for about an hour, and I had by then lost the tracks, but somehow felt compelled to continue, toward what looked like a group of bigger boulders, standing like sentinels over the swampy hinterland.
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