In his dreams, Rik died alone on the island, even though he had only spent a short time awake on it. That time resumed to him as he woke, yawned, and stretched. It was night. From the warm but cool breeze the day had brought, it had turned into a chill. He shivered as he crawled upward, his clothes still wet and foul from the salt water. Rik sniffled again, his thoughts speaking to him. Maybe you'll get found. Don't give up yet. There's probably people looking for you. The thought made Rik feel only a bit better, as all his life, he felt as though he hadn't a friend in the world. It was that feeling that lowered his chances of ever being found. He sighed and crawled onto a green palm leaf, curling up. He wasn't that tall anyway, so he fit like a baby in a crib, warm and content to sleep. And so Rik did.
The next time he woke, Rik found himself feeling a bit happier. It was dawn, a new day to do whatever he felt like. But he couldn't do anything, all he wanted was to see someone, or hear their voice. His stomach grumbled as he scratched his head. Food time, I guess.
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