Short, sharp breaths of wind lifted his shoulder-length hair; ever changing in direction, rogue strands of chocolate brown strewed across his face. The rough sea reared up, leaving him no time to react as the spray stung his cheeks like a swarm of wasps. Staggering backwards, he caught his foot on a protruding rock, invisible against the murk of the night.
Lowering his arm just long enough to be caught by a second wave, the man pressed his knuckles into his eyes in an attempt to force the salt water through the back of his skull. His clothes clung to him; each passing gust now brought a shiver along with it.
Bleary-eyed and exhausted from the climb, he took a step back from the precipice. The weight of the water still clinging to his sweater was starting to constrict his breathing. He blew into his quivering hands, doing his best to remain calm.
As hope dwindled, he caught sight of something on the horizon. Provided his mind wasn't failing him, someone was out there. With rapidly immobilising fingers he reached into his pocket, then up to the sky. The flare exploded against the inky sky like a splash of paint on a fresh canvas.
Would the boat see it? Would they care?
Dawn would come soon enough. That's what he told himself.
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