Prince Eric

Eric sits on a fallen log out on the beach. He watches the sun slowly dip below the waves and a brillant hue paint across the heavens. He plays his flute, a poor imitation of the voice he longs to hear.

Eric's lungs still burned from the saltwater. It was a ghost of a memory and no longer a physical injury. He survived the sinking of his first ship. Though by what miracle, he has no idea. Only the sound of that voice. That voice which wraps around him like a kiss from the ocean, letting him know it will all be alright.

That's when movement catches his eye. Down by the shoreline, near the large, worn rocks. Someone new. Someone he's never seen before. Someone who, rather clumsily, makes their way to the softer, even expanse of the shoreline. Eric sets aside his flute and heads towards this mysterious stranger to greet them.