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High winds and rain that stung like hornets, blasted our tiny vessle, the wood creaking and sails shaking in anger with every gust. For fourteen days, Poseidon punished us for the horrors we had wrought. My brother clung to a rope, the rough twine dug into his hands until tiny droplets of blood swam to the surface and snaked down his arm. This small trickle was no match for the rain, however, blood mixed with water and was washed away.

How ironic that the blood on our hands was cleansed so easily...
 
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