The beam of the flashlight trembled in August’s hand, cutting through the pitch-black interior of the rotting smuggler’s shack. There it was. Tucked in the far corner, half-buried in the wet sand was the dark oversized shape of a jacket draped over a huddled form. "Winter," August breathed. His leg bleeding from the jagged rocks. He stumbled forward dropping to his knees in the freezing, briny mud. "I'm here," his hot tears immediately spilling over his eyelashes and tracking through the dirt on his face. "Winter, I'm right here. I've got you. You're safe now." He reached out with shaking hands. The jacket simply collapsed under his touch. August froze. He frantically tore the jacket away, tossing it into the dark. Beneath it was a bloated waterlogged burlap sack, tangled in a massive heap of ruined fishing nets and debris washed in by the high tide. "No, no, no. Winter!" He grabbed the burlap sack, ripping at the heavy twine tying it shut. His fingernails tore,
Magbasa pa
Mag-log in
