The sea was rough, still bearing the echoes of the storm that had engulfed them. Black waves rose like walls of water and foam, and the salt burned the eyes of the two women as they clung to pieces of driftwood.
Cassandra, the ice dragon, was panting in panic, her heart racing. Her silver hair stuck to her face, and her hands were shaking so badly they could barely hold the plank that kept her afloat.
"Damn it!" she screamed, spitting saltwater. "Where are we?! Where is the rest?!"
Monica, the one with white hair with streaks that seemed to glow like electrical wires in the distant lightning, was beside her, floating with her feet firmly planted on a makeshift plank. Her eyes were half-closed, cold, assessing.
"I don't know," she said calmly. "But we have a bigger problem."
