Selwyn did not awaken all at once. He had always been a deep and placid sleeper. Left to his own devices he loved nothing better than to lay still in bed until the sun had passed the noonday mark. His Dwarven companion Wyldred had often complained of his slovenliness in this regard, but Selwyn paid him no need. It was not that Selywyn<em>minded</em>waking early and promptly for the sake of an errand or a duty - but for him sleep was truly a marvel of nature. He sought it out with a degree of care and deliberation that any feline would surely appreciate.<br/><br/>This particular sleep, however, was altogether heavier. The events of the night had sunk the tiredness deep into his bones.<br/><br/>Selwyn's ears easily caught the murmur of conversation, but he did his best to ignore it. Somewhere in his subconscious he was aware of his state. He was cold, he was wet, he was leaning against something hard and slippery, the dampness in his clothes had caused chafing along the inside of his thighs, his hands were skinned in patches, his fingertips were ripe with splinters, his throat was raw from inhaling salt water and he really needed a piss.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Selwyn had been had been lucky when the ship had come apart, for even though he was thrown unceremoniously into the water, he was not swimming for long before he chanced upon a section of torn hull that was large flat enough to float. He'd clambered aboard as best he could, grimacing as the jagged edge of wood left holes in his breeches and bloodied his left shin. Fixed to the hull was a seemingly endless stretch of rope that trailed away into the sea.<br/><br/>All through the long night he sat there. The concentration of his weight upon the piece of hull -combined with the roiling of the sea- meant that his lower half was submerged in water. Periodically, a sea swell would wash over him completely. But he held on as tightly as he could to the length of rope that was attached to the hull. Anchored in this way, he did his best to keep his balance as the waves broke over and through him, drenching him with salt water that stung his throat, his eyes and his increasingly raw hands.<br/><br/>in time, Selwyn realized that the long length of trailing rope was attached to the distressed ship at the far end, and that he was being carried in its wake. Constantly amazed at the ferocity of the storm, and the speed at which he and the stricken vessel were pulled in one direction, Selwyn hoped against hope that the remainder of the<em>Dread Horizon</em>wouldn't be finally but out of it's misery by the storm and carried inexorably to the bottom of the sea. Long though the rope was, it surely paled against the unfathomable depths of the merciless sea. Selwyn knew that if the ship went down, the raft would go with it.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Eventually Selwyn succumbed to exhaustion; but he did not sleep. Instead he slumped down on the raft, only staying above the seawater by virtue of his numbed and bruised knees. The waves continued to batter him and the wind whipped spray and saltwater into his stinging eyes so that there was never any point to be had in opening them; there was nothing to look at out there, save a glimpse of a moonlit wave-crest through the ceaseless drumming rain.<br/><br/>Selywyn's muscles felt pulled and torn. They ached painfully whenever he made anything but the slowest and simplest movements. His grip upon the rope that ensured his safety had become weak and loose and the rocking motion of the raft constantly threatened to spill him into the sea. Even so, Selwyn did not dare tie the rope to a limb lest the raft tip or capsize and take him under. Instead, he coiled it lightly around his right arm, locking that in place with his left. He hoped it would be enough.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>When the ship and the trailing raft had finally closed towards that bleak storm-blown shore, Selwyn had slid from the raft into the water and made a frantic bid for land. As he had hit the water he experienced momentary panic. Beyond exhausted by the events of the long and terrible night, he wondered if he'd even have the strength to overcome the 50 yards or so of shallow, choppy sea to reach the shoreline. But as he began to swim a desperate determination took ahold of him and breathed life into his weary frame.<br/><br/>Though his muscles screamed their reproach at his efforts, Selwyn soon found himself scrambling onto the first few of an outcrop of sharp, slippery rocks. Selwyn clambered over the rocks, but kept going. He stopped only when he found shelter.<br/><br/>His resting place was a large rock rooted in sour-smelling sand, with an overhang that guarded against the worst of the wind and rain. He had sat down there, rested his back against the hard slippery rock, and fallen swiftly asleep<br/><br/>---<br/>