I reached the beach around noon, based on the position of the sun overhead. To my delight, the small river I was following emptied along the beach near the junction of the peninsula and the main landmass. Ahead of me was the bay I saw from the mountain. Farther up the peninsula, however, the beach got rockier. With the tide out as it was, I could see waves breaking around a multitude of rocks. The sand of the beach was mostly light tan, but streaked with volcanic black in whorls of color. Palm trees, one of the few plants I could at least claim to have heard about, dotted the shore line amid other, less iconic plants.
Perhaps most importantly, I saw the remains of a ship out along the spit by the rock at the end. And what a rock it was. My view from the volcano didn't do the rock's size justice. The immense chunk of stone was perhaps forty meters tall and sloped up imposingly from its surroundings. The top and lee side were covered in dense vegetation.
Inevitably, however, my eyes were drawn back to the wreck. Bashed by surf on the jagged rocks where it sat, the wreck was hardly more than a hull and wooden ribs. I jogged toward it, feet pounding in the sand and claws digging little furrows in their wake. My tail swung side to side behind me. As I ran, I noticed that its weight seemed to balance out my arms, which would otherwise pitch my center of mass too far forward. I was also aware of my breasts moving around which wasn't exactly comfortable. I'd want a way to secure them at some point.
Before all this, I wasn't a particularly quick runner, but I seemed to run at a significantly faster pace than before. With my tail for balance, I tipped farther forward than previously. In only a minute or so, I drew close to the base of the enormous rock that loomed above, and the shipwreck below it.
By the surf, I found a cannon sticking out of the sand and wedged between rocks. Green with age, it nevertheless stole my attention; I'd never seen one up close before. I knew next to nothing about the guns, which seemed larger than I imagined they would be. As I got close enough to inspect it, I could tell the casting was expertly done, something I knew enough about to appreciate.
Importantly there was a name and a date on the side of the barrel: Cardozo. It sounded Cavenish, or maybe Turquoiser. Neither region was part of the empire, but both were in the north. The date on the cannon was 1283 AL, nearly seventy years ago, depending on how much time had passed between my death and my rebirth.
I was only vaguely familiar with the Kingdom of Cavenze. Situated north of the Empire of Ordia and separated by a large area of wild highlands, the region was known for its naval force. If the cannons were from the Turquoise Coast, then the ship could be from almost anywhere. The loose collection of merchant states occupied a peninsula and several islands that jutted into the Central Sea across from Cavenze. Many parts of the Turquoise Coast were known to hire privateers and rumored to harbor pirates. My source for this was a series of adventure fantasy books about a band of Turquoiser pirates with hearts of gold, so I probably shouldn't try to read deeper into this ship's history unless I find something else.
Unfortunately, neither region spoke Ordian notably, although I imagine the Turquoise Coast used it frequently for trade. With how long the wreck had been here, there were likely no survivors around unless they'd settled permanently on the island. Even if there were, I might not have been able to speak with them.
I turned from the wreck and headed up the beach toward the rock, searching for any other debris I could use. At the verge of the trees, a sun-bleached wooden footlocker lay half-buried in sand and covered in weeds. The hinges had rusted and the top came off easily enough. Inside were a stiff set of men's clothes, a cracked spyglass, and a rusty knife. I took the whole chest with me and started for the rock. The top would have the best view and the best chance of being spotted.
People had clearly come here at some point, but with the cannon in the sand and the unopened chest in plain view, I had to assume no one lived on the island. I started my ascent up the most gently-sloped part of the immense stone monolith. With my tail to balance me, the climb wasn't terribly difficult. My endurance surprised me; I wasn't winded at all when I reached the top. The top was relatively flat and covered mostly in shrubs. A few trees clung on where the dirt was deeper. The view was commanding; I took out the spyglass and looked over the azure waters at an empty horizon.
The highest parts of the rock faced the ocean and shielded the clearing, although the tops of the trees that stuck into the wind were bent harshly. Ideally, I'd find a way to get myself off this island. Otherwise, I'd have to hope for a passing ship and make myself a place to live until then. I turned back and faced the spot I'd claimed: it was time to get to work.