Chapter 3: Adrift
Lost at Sea
Chapter 3: Adrift
Admiral Biscuit
When Cloud Climber came to, she was lying on the remains of a cloud outcropping. The only reason it had stayed together at all was because she had been on it.
She jerked her head up. What happened? Where did my roof go? Then she realized that this wasn’t her house at all, and the memory of being inside the supercell, fighting for her life, came crashing back to her. Somehow I must have gotten spit out of the cloud.
Relief almost instantly turned to panic. She was lost above the clouds, with no idea of where home was. There were no other pegasi anywhere around her, not as far as she could see.
She was within a heartbeat of leaping off her tenuous perch and flying west as quickly as her wings could carry her, but a voice at the back of her mind shouted at her to be cautious. Her whole body still ached from fighting the supercell, and a few moments to assess her situation would almost certainly pay off in the long run.
Like the sea, clouds were ever-shifting landmarks. The storm she'd been fighting had changed shape, and the prominent cumulonimbus clouds that had been at the fore of it were no more, or if they were still there, they'd blown out of eyeshot.
She could make a rough estimate of direction from the sun, although without knowing what time it was, that was only a vague guess. It felt like it was the afternoon, and if that was the case, she could fly sunward and eventually she'd make landfall.
How eventually was the life-or-death question. Cloud couldn't see any land in any direction. The clouds had spread out to cover the ocean completely. They were thick enough and high enough that she couldn't see any landmarks through them.
How long was I out? Probably not for too long: her mane and tail still felt damp. Probably land was still within reach—all she'd have to do was fly approximately west for as far as she could bear, and then make a nice, efficient glide through the clouds. Odds were that she wouldn't find Chonamare, because the storm had been blowing north, and there was little chance she'd be able to fly blind and find her hometown.
But land was a start. There would be other ponies who could tell her where she was, and she could rest and then maybe tomorrow fly back to Chonamare or if it was too far she could take the train to the nearest station and fly from there.
We were pushing the storm east. She hesitated at the edge of her cloud-perch. Sky Flower said it was thirsty and wanted more water, so it would want to go kind of east on its own. But they couldn't leave it alone, because Equestria curved in. The storm might have have gotten more water as it ran along the coast, and the drag from the land would hook it around into Fillydelphia or Manehattan.
If she was further east than she thought, and if the storm had pushed further north than she imagined, she could fly until her wings were ready to give out, glide down through the cloud, and if she saw only water underneath the cloud deck, what then?
There were lots of ships around Fillydelphia and Manehattan, and as long as she crossed through the clouds before nightfall, they wouldn't be too hard to spot. Their masts would be an easy thing to see.
But if she couldn't make it far enough . . . those were rainclouds all around her, and that would cut her visibility. If she didn't make it to a ship, there was very little chance that a watchmare in the rigging would spot her coming through the clouds. If she couldn’t glide to a ship, she was finished.
I could go through when I still have some strength left, and if I don't see a ship, fly back above the clouds.
But then what? What if I don't? Should I try a second time?
It was smarter to do nothing. Up here, she was safe as long as the clouds held together, and while her current perch wouldn't last much longer, the rest of the clouds should persist for a good long time. Searchers would know to look on top of the clouds . . . unfortunately, her white coat would hardly stand out from the cloudmass.
That would put her further out to sea, true. Once the clouds started to break up, though, she could look through them until she spotted an island or a ship or something else.
There were lots of ships on the ocean. It wouldn't be that hard to find one. And that was a lot safer than flying blindly and hoping to find somewhere to land, especially with an injured wing that had already betrayed her once.
Cloud flexed her wings, testing their strength. It was best to rest them, but she had to abandon her tuft, so she kicked off the edge and glided down to the storm proper, looking for a nice thick landing spot, one that would hold together for long enough to rest and recover.
When she'd landed, she knocked herself a small depression, firming up the cloud a little bit. A bit of lightning sparked off her hooves but she ignored it while settling into her new, temporary cloudhome.
She tore a piece of the edge loose and sucked on it, getting the moisture out. As long as she had a big cloud to draw from, thirst wasn't going to be a problem, but hunger might.
There are plenty of fish in the ocean. When she was a filly, she'd learned to spot fish from the air, and knew how to dive in and catch them. There were also big mats of seaweed that floated near the surface sometimes, and while those didn't taste all that good raw, they were better than nothing.
She yawned and settled into her makeshift nest. Napping now is smart. If the storm cleared during the night, she might be able to see distant lights, either from a city or a lighthouse or a ship, and that would be a good target to fly towards.
• • •
She woke at the last light of the day. Already, the sun was below her view, illuminating the clouds to the west in brilliant oranges and reds. To the east, the sky was dark, and towards the horizon she could make out stars already.
What she couldn't see was any artificial light. She kept a good watch along the distant horizon—it was hard to tell where the clouds ended, and so she didn't know what she ought to be able to see, if anything at all. If the clouds were thin, there was a chance she'd be able to pick up the sweeping beam of a lighthouse through the cloud. It would be a faint light, to be sure, but it would be regular and unnatural.
Even after the entire sky had darkened, she saw nothing. Occasional flashes of lightning below her kept giving her false hope, even though she knew in her heart that the light was too bluish and too irregular to be a ponymade lighthouse.
From what she'd seen before the sun set, there was little chance of seeing anything upon the ocean to her west, so after she'd finally admitted to herself that there was no land there, she turned around and looked to the east, hoping against hope to see the bobbing masthead light of a square-rigger, but there were none to be seen.
She huddled down in her nest, trying to keep in her body heat. Now that the sun was gone, the top of the cloud was getting colder and colder.
Building a windbreak will help. That would remove any chances she had of seeing land to the west, though, something she was reluctant to do, so instead she curled up against the west wall of her little cloud nest, her rump and tail into the wind.
She tried to remember her geography. If she went far enough north, there was a chance that she'd go across the peninsula of land that stretched out into the ocean. That was the demarcation line between the pony lands and the frozen north—above that there was nothing but ice and hungry polar bears and yetis and if the storm drifted her that far north, she'd almost certainly freeze to death before she found any proper land. She could land on an iceberg, but what good would that do? It would melt before it drifted far enough south for sailorponies to see it.
Every instinct told her to get out of her cloudnest and fly for safety. There was land to the west, she knew it. This morning—or was it yesterday morning, now?—she'd flown down to the tavern and had a nice bowl of stew for breakfast and then she'd gone on cloud patrol with Star and Monarch and Aurora and Sky Flower and. . . .
. . . and they'll be looking for me. They won't know where I went. They must think
They must think that I've drowned.
It was night now, and they wouldn't be looking for her any more. If they hadn't found her while Celestia's sun was still in the sky, they wouldn't waste time at night. They'd think that the storm had gotten her.
Maybe for the next couple of days, they'd be keeping an eye on the shore. Right up near the tide line, because that was where a body might drift and stay, tumbling in the breakers like she’d been tumbling in the stormcloud.
She swallowed down a lump in her throat. If they hadn't found her by dark, everypony would assume she was dead. They'd have stopped looking for her.
Nopony was looking for her anymore.
Nopony knew that she was out here.
She was all alone.
And unless she kept her wits about her, they'd be right. She would be dead.
If I don't keep my wits about me, I am gonna be dead. Not as quick as they must be thinking, but it won't matter in the end, will it?
They'd sent her grandmother off on a cloud and was this any different? A little: there had been no mourners to see her leave and nopony sharing memories of her life.
Back at the tavern, though, they were probably already toasting to her memory. Star will be inconsolable. We've been partners since our apprenticeship.
Aurora would be feeling guilty, too, but Cloud didn't feel so bad about that. If she hadn't been point mare, she wouldn't be up on this cloud right now.
• • •
Cloud didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have, because suddenly it was morning.
For a moment, she thought she was back home, and then she bumped her muzzle on the edge of her cloud-nest and reality came crashing back to her.
She was afraid to look, but she had to know. She climbed up to the edge of her nest and surveyed her surroundings.
The storm was breaking up, which was the good news. Here and there she could see through the clouds around her.
The bad news was that she only saw open ocean through the holes in the clouds. No land, no shorebirds, and no ships. Nothing but a vast, empty sea.
She was higher up than she'd thought, which explained why it was so cold, and maybe why she still felt so exhausted. There wasn't as much air this high up—it was harder to breathe, harder to fly, and of course colder. Everypony knew that.
On the plus side, her altitude let her see further.
Unfortunately, there was nothing worth seeing.
I wish I'd paid more attention in school. There were trade winds, she knew that. It was what helped the ships get across the ocean. Some of them tended to blow east and some of them tended to blow west, and if she knew where they were, she could cloud-hop her way towards one, build a makeshift cloudhouse or even just sit atop a cloud, and eventually she'd blow back to land.
Were the westerlies to the north, or the south? She couldn't remember. Ships generally sailed down from Baltimare, but those were local trade ships, not oceangoing ships, and the winds near the shore weren't the same as the winds further out to sea.
The closest land was probably to the north. On that, she was reasonably confident. But too far north was no good; that was just ice.
South was safer. She thought she remembered that the big oceangoing ships arrived in the south and then made their way up the coast.
That doesn't make sense. Manehattan was a big trading port, and it wouldn't be so far north if the wind didn't go directly there, would it?
She shook her head. It was no good thinking about things she didn't know. If she was going to survive this, she'd have to focus on things she did know.
Food was a priority. Already, her belly was growling at her, demanding food. To get that, she was going to have to be lower, low enough that she could get a good view of the ocean to find fish or seaweed. Winds would take care of themselves, and the cloud would go where it went. The ocean didn't go on forever; sooner or later she'd fetch up on land of some sort.
She had to have food. And a bit of a shelter would be nice. She could use the cloud she had and make a crude cloudhut out of it. That would cost her some sail area on her cloud, because it was already getting pretty wispy, although it was likely a bit thicker if she went down further.
Today I'm going to find something to eat and I'm going to build myself a proper shelter. It would be rough—she wasn't much of a builder—but it would be something.
Gotta get lower. Cloud Climber studied the dregs of the storm, predicting how it would come apart. The best way to save energy—which was going to be a priority—was to find a good chunk of rained-out stormcloud that was about the right altitude and work on that. Once she had started to set it up, she could keep a watch on the ocean below for a school of fish that was swimming near the surface.
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And now we have a survival story that only works with pegasi. This should prove gripping indeed.
The ability to make yourself a flying mobile shelter is so damm convenient...
Well so far she is doing everything right. She is remaining clam and planning. She will definitely loose some weight during this experience but damn won't she have a great story to tell.
Well, she's planning and keeping calm, that's good to hear. Flying shelter? Only a Pegasus could pull that off...
She needs a trusty cloud hatchet. It's the only way to survive. Chop down cloud trees, build a cloud fort, stash cloud berries, fight off a cloud bear...
8511070
Found it. Ponify everything. EVERYTHING.
When I read this chapter, I kept thinking of The Perfect Storm. Forgive me for hoping that it has a happier ending...
8511969
There are advantages in begin able to turn a cloud into a mobile liferaft.
8512015
I know, right? I wish I could do that.
8512036
From all I know, survival rule #1 is Don't Panic.
Granted, it's likely to be a pretty unbelievable story.
8512116
And they're lucky as heck that they can. It does really increase their options; short of being above a very dry desert, odds are that they can make themselves some kind of a cloud raft.
8512217
That sounds like a book I read once. Although there weren't so many clouds in it, IIRC.
She'll have to be careful with the cloudberries. If she eats too many at once, she might get the trots.
8512964
I am so happy that's a thing. Now all I need to do is figure out how to install it on my computer.
8513069
That's such a great story. One of the books I re-read every now and then.
The Finest Hours is another one you might really enjoy. I haven't seen the movie yet, but the book's really good.
8513164
It should remind you of a story, and yes, there were many fewer clouds in it. Or maybe just as many, but out of reach. Or something to that effect.
Burn ye beacons,
heroes stand in their might
at the helm but nothing but night on all sides
Burn ye beacons
Out by blackened sands, out by blackened sands
The tumbling of the sea whispers the names of dead men.
Burn ye beacons,
heroes stand in their might
at the helm but nothing but night on all sides
Burn ye beacons
make lit for each countryman,
make lit for each countryman,
who seeks home and yearns for haven
8513229
I think I have a copy of that kicking around somewhere, to be honest.
The Adventures of Westhorse.
I wondered about this back when Silver Glow talked about it. Do they let the clouds drift out to sea? Because I don't think anyone on land wants to have dead pegasi randomly falling on them.
8520996
Funny how the pegasuses in my stories tend to fly west, isn't it?
Yeah, they'd let them drift out to sea, and odds are that scavenger birds would pick the carcass fairly clean before the cloud broke up.
Air burials (as they're called) aren't unknown, although of course when we humans do it, we leave the body on a mountain or something, rather than on a cloud.
It's kind of a cross between a Viking funeral and an air burial. And probably only a coastal pegasi tradition any more.