Although the girl barely reached my chest, her figure showed signs of maturity—a modest swell in her chest and a firm, rounded bottom that set her apart from a child.
If the dead woman in the cave was her mother, then this small girl must have been around eighteen.
I lifted her onto the raft, handed her a bottle of water, and secured the toolbox in place.
Standing waist-deep in the water, I pushed the raft toward the open sea.
Once we reached deeper waters, I climbed aboard, grabbed the paddle, and began rowing toward the island.
My soaked clothes clung to me, outlining the contours of my muscles.
The girl stole a glance at me, but when her gaze drifted to my groin, fear flickered across her face.
I could only guess that she had seen her mother assaulted, which would explain her rea
