The Drifter

For Fandango’s Story Starter #13, where we build something around the following phrase:

Cold and wet, tired and exhausted, she…

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She was born with a whimper. A simple result of physics, as her mass became too great, her bonds too weak. Slowly, gently, she slipped away from her mother, destined for her solitary life of adventure.

Her arduous journey began in the Arctic Ocean, where there were many like her. She was neither big nor small, and she moved with the current. A quirk of fate took her south, into the Greenland Sea. Slowly, imperceptibly, she drifted along the coast of this frozen land, before once more finding the open waters of the Labrador Sea, and the wild deep of the Atlantic. There were fewer of them now. Some raced, some straggled, still more discovered different directions. She drifted at her own, lethargic pace.

Still, she followed her master’s changing whims. She was destined never again to visit her birthplace, but to float in solitude in the vastness of her new surroundings. Until one dark, starlit night, cold and wet, tired and exhausted, she felt the rage of the Titanic’s thunderous engines bear down on her.