You wash up on a white sandy beach, your lungs filled with salt water. You exhale hard and most of it comes out, allowing you to breath finally.

You find it hard to move, exhausted from the ordeal you just went through. A few minutes of rest and you kneel up, whiping the wet sand that sticks to your skin off your face. You take off your shirt as it is soaking and also covered in sand and head away from the tide.

After taking a breather and dropping your shirt, you look around for your friends, "Hello!? Emily? Sar- anyone!?" Your only response is the sound of the tide and an eerie calmness.

The sun is very hot here, but it doesn't seem anything like Europe where you set off just six days ago from in Spain. It's tropical as you can tell from the palm trees and the storm that washed you to the shore is nowhere to be seen, hardly even a cloud in the sky.

you deceide that it would be best to worry later and go explore, hopefully to find your friends and/or food and drinkable water, you didn't manage to call for help during the storm, you doubt help will arive any time soon and you grab your shirt, tossing it over your shoulder and head off.