106 Eat Me?

"What hell have I stumbled into?" Sebastian asked himself.

He hung by his feet, from a tall tree, the blood rushing to his head, underneath him on the forest floor he could see the faint glint of his sword.

If he could just grab it and cut himself free, but time was running out, he felt as if the hands of death were choking him, his eyes bulged from the sickly feeling and the pressure in his head built and built.

He had been hanging here for hours, slipping in and out of consciousness.

They spoke a foreign language. Male voices, probably discussing how they would eat him. Of all the islands he had to wash up on, it had to be an island of vicious cannibals.

Skulls littered the forest floor and it was a gruesome thought that he may be joining those souls soon.

Couldn't he have washed up on an island of good samaritans with a moral inclination to help him get home?

No, but this was his reality, and they didn't call them the 'Dead Islands' for nothing.