The last of the lights belowdecks had died an hour ago. The last of the screams not long after that. Silence creaked across the bow to where she sat.
With her back to the railing, and still she was facing the sea. Dawn prying gold fingers between it and sky should have brought hope, but, belowdecks, the portholes would all be sealed. The corridors dark.
The hold packed with food, while the deck was bare. She could try to wait, but, sooner or later, one way or another, hunger would see to it there were no survivors of that expedition.
