If this island was to be Lost's new home, best make it a worthy home. In its current state, it was merely another idyllic tropical island - lovely, but functionally inhospitable. The shore would not do; the time spent at sea aboard the Rusty Compass had taught her that waves are unpredictable at best, deadly at their worst. No, she would have to go inland. Over her shoulder, she could see the treeline was not far; the water was not all that removed from the local vegetation.
...Unknown... The unknown was beyond the treeline; the shore had few hiding spaces for the unsavory to lurk, but into the woods...who knew. Deep breath. Lost could not survive exclusively along the shore, so to the trees she must venture sooner or later. It was an easy decision: sooner. Before nightfall; before that which is unwilling to wander in daylight creeps out under the stars. Deep breath. She must face all the island has in store; there is no way off, so best to master it before it masters her. Looking again with equal parts longing and good-riddance at the speck on the horizon, she rises and brushes some of the clinging sand off. Deep breath. Better now than never; timid, wary steps make way for assertive strides across the gap into the island's flora.
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