Sea

The crate slowly bobbed up and down in the waves. It was a simple crate, a dark brown box made of wood planks and held together with dull grey iron nails. On its front was inscribed "East Edge Company" in bold, black letters. It was slowly spinning as it drifted on the rising wind.

The sea was specked with things like it. Dozens of boxes of barrels of varying colors and sizes all floated like specks of dust on the sea. There was no rhyme or reason to their placement; the sea had placed them wherever she wanted, and was continuously pushing them. They occasioannly bumped into each other as they floated downstream, before floating apart again.

Twilight sailed her dhow through the swarm of boxes. She curiously looked at the crates; they were the first signs of civilization she'd seen in weeks, if not months. They floated all around her boat, passing around or bumping into it. She leaned over the side and poked one with her hoof as it stuck to the side. It sounded and bobbed a little, but held firm. She poked it again. The result was the same. She raised the dhow's sail, then looked below deck for a second. She came back woth a well-worn coil of rope, which she tied around the crate then used to hoist it onto the deck. It started dripping water, but she was fairly certain its contents were at least in salvagable condition. She went below deck again, this time returning with a rusted strip of metal. She shoved it underneath the crate's lid with her hooves - no easy task - then put her weight on it. The nails keeping the top attatched to the box easily slipped out, and the lid fell onto the deck with a clatter. She looked inside...

... and was greeted with a sight she was quite glad for : a crate full of biscuits. They were very hard, probably stale biscuits, but they were biscuits nonetheless. She took one out and began to munch on it; compared to her diet of seaweed seasoned with algae, the food was ambrosia. She took another, then another, until she was full of dry, bready goodness. She made it a point to try and bring more crates aboard, for if this one was full of such goodness then surely others must have something worth salvaging. In the end, she'd brought no less than five crates aboard before she'd begun to run out of deck space. She'd popped the lid on most of them, but one was still untouched, mainly because she was too tired to open it. The crates she had opened were full of everything from crackers and biscuits to fruits and vegetables, and one had some sort of strange pink material covered in ice. She'd tried it, but almost vomited as soon as it touched her taste buds. There had to be some reason for it to be in a crate, though, so she'd decided to keep it.

She lay, content, on her back, watching the sky with a full stomach and a hopeful gleam to her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, she'd make it after all. It couldn't be that much further west, and she almost certainly had enough food to make it wherever now. Her eyes took in the blue sea above her, dotted with thin, high-flying white clouds. The wind was steadily blowing, but not intensely. The dhow's sail was completely furled and secured to the boom with a knot of rope. The sea was fairly calm, with gentle waves slowly rocking the boat. All in all, life felt good.

Then, on the distant horizon, a flash of lightning.