restrained

Despite the pounding rain and the whipping winds, Arne once again found himself on a beach. Through squinted eyes he trailed the way the white caps crashed against the spiralling sands that lead to a forested centre. It would probably offer more cover than the lone palm he leaned against with Arvid curled into his side. The warthog had tried to warn him about the rapidly darkening sky, but the boy had ignored him, and the change of pressure in the air that signalled the storms approach. He wasn't quite feeling himself, less carefree and more like he had been cut adrift, like the fronds and timber being tossed about in the ocean waves.

He stepped towards the almost island, ignoring the fact that he would have to cross open water to reach it, the sound of distant thunder tuned out as he focused on the far off patch of green. He wouldn't know if it was better than where he was until he got there.

"speech".