The morning sun slowly rose, tinging the pearlescent white stones of the Bay of Osseus a light tangerine. A few tiny crabs picked their way across the gravelly stones and raised their claws aggressively. They were fighting over the rights to a meal, one which had conveniently washed ashore in the course of the previous night.

A ragged figure lay upon the hard stones, his feet lapped by the gentle waves of the sea. By all appearances, the figure was human - the only feature of his that indicated otherwise was the silvery-blue colour of his hair. His hair was long and bedraggled, and obscured the fine features of his face. A tattered green cloak covered the majority of his body; the fabric was damp, and steamed slightly in the faint light of the rising sun. The man groaned and raised an arm weakly before letting it fall back to the pearly stones. The crabs scattered, momentarily startled by the movement from their meal.

The man lay silent and motionless for a long time.

The crabs, gaining confidence that their meal had succumbed, began to crawl around his head and upon his cloak. The man felt their prickly feet poking through the worn fabric of the cloak and grumbled. With monumental effort, he managed to turn himself over so he was staring up at the distant, wispy clouds.

A very faint thought floated to his attention. How did I get here...?

The clouds above moved slowly, silently. He found their infinitely glacial pace soothing. He breathed deeply, tasting the salt of the air, and tried to recall what had happened.

He closed his eyes. Then...

"Leandros," he said. His cracked lips shuddered at the name. Vague memories of the fight began to surface in his mind.

With newfound urgency, the man painfully sat up and glanced around. Had his enemy followed him?

He was in a cove- that much was for certain. The stones of the cove were oddly white; most were small, but several massive white boulders were scattered around, looming from the gravel like sentinels. Large cliffs bordered each side of the cove; they too were purest white, and shone like the inside of a shell.

The man's eyes traveled up the shoreline to the weak, scrubby growths that sprouted amongst shining dunes. The growth gradually increased in density, ending in a shady treeline some distance away.

"Leandros," the man said again. He cast his eyes fearfully to the sea, and saw nothing; there were only waves, and the blinding light of the sun. The man rose to his feet and winced. His right ankle could not hold his weight. He glanced down and confirmed that his ankle was sprained.

The man furrowed his brow. He had to find treatment, somehow.

He turned in the direction of the scrub, but a sudden eerie feeling sent chills crawling up the back of his neck. He whipped back around and stared wide-eyed at the lapping edge of the ocean and scanned the horizon again, this time more-carefully.

He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, spiking it up. ...The ocean before him was idyllic, bright and peaceful with light, and bathed in soft ocean air. But he could not shake the feeling that it was dangerous to remain by the ocean's edge.

He began hobbling towards the distant scrub. With a start, he noticed a thin spiral of smoke rising into the distant sky. Good. A habitation. That was where he would find help.

He wrapped the tattered cloak around his shoulders and headed into the treeline.