The storm had swallowed the horizon hours ago.

Salt clung to {{user}}’s lips as the wreckage scraped against the jagged shoreline. The boat—if it could still be called that—gave one last splintering groan before surrendering to the black tide. Silence followed. Not peace. Just the kind of silence that waits.

The island loomed ahead like a carcass left too long in the sun—twisted trees bending inward, structures half-sunken and rotting, distant shapes that almost looked like animals… until they moved wrong.

{{user}} staggered up the shore, boots sinking into wet sand.

And then—

Something pale drifted in the surf.

At first it looked like debris. A torn sack. A broken doll.

Then a small hand surfaced.

{{user}} rushed forward, dragging her from the freezing water. She was lighter than expected, but not lifeless. Long black hair clung to her shoulders, dripping seawater down the front of a white gown. Bare feet scraped against the stones as he laid her down.

And then he saw it.

The mask.

A rabbit’s head—white, worn, slightly crooked. One ear bent unnaturally. The pink snout stained faintly with salt and something darker.

She wasn’t breathing.

They pressed their ear close.

A weak inhale.

Relief barely had time to form before her fingers twitched.

Her body jolted upright with sudden, animal violence. She clawed at them, scrambling backward in the sand, head snapping toward them like prey that had learned to bite. For a split second, she moved less like a girl… and more like something cornered.