For as far as the eye can see, they were alone.
Impatient, Otis huffed repeatedly. The only other soul sat across, silently rowing the boat at a criminally slow pace. Otis tried not to stare. Mother always said it was rude. But he was so blue, so strange. Surely this was an exception.
Where was he taking them? The sea was vast and void, making it impossible for Otis to figure their whereabouts
He squinted, trying to see towards the horizon. For each row Otis grew desperate for something that could help him understand how he got here.
Where was everyone? Where's mother? Brief snippets came to him, hazy and indiscernible, of screaming, fighting, and intense heat.
Now he was on a boat, embarking on a journey he didn't remember beginning.
Something felt incredibly wrong.
Defeated, Otis shifted his focus to the unnatural violet sky that seemed like it belonged to another world. It was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing Otis had seen in all his ten years. Even the adults in his village would agree. They'd gasp at the glowing blue streaks that moved across the sky seamlessly together, lighting the way forward.
He glanced at the odd figure, trying to remember if he said his name. The haziness persisted, blurring moments into one another, heightening Otis' distress.
"Where are we going?" Asked Otis, finally finding his voice. There was discomfort in his throat, a burning sensation he couldn't shake.
"We," said the figure whilst rowing, "are going someplace safe."
Otis contemplated. "What about my mother?"
"She has yet to begin this journey."
Otis searched the sea once more, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of it all. How could he have left her behind? She... had woken him up in a panic, whispering amidst the dark of night. Shouts outside seeped through the walls, screams piercing enough that it jolted him awake. He had leapt out of bed and into his mother's shaking arms.
"It's time to be brave, my dear boy," she said.
And then it went dark. Except for the flickers of red and yellow.
"Please," he begged, "turn back. Please."
The figure stopped rowing and looked at him sadly. "That is not how this is done, Otis."
His eyes welled with tears. He needed her. He needed his mother. This was not how it was supposed to be.
They were supposed to escape together.
The figure resumed rowing, moving across the deathly still sea. Otis wiped his tears, though they pricked the same as his throat, as though something foreign forced itself inside.
Otis froze, noticing his ash covered hand for the first time. Realization struck him like a storm, electrifying his senses anew. The haze behind his memories faded, allowing in clarity.
Several tears fell. Otis looked at the figure, who nodded sympathetically. A wave of understanding exchanged between them.