Monster

As the little ship, captained by the lone McTavish, was being dragged into the current of the edge of the world, ready to be hurled over the ridge and cast into nothingness, the monster came upon its flank. McTavish was sitting cross-legged in the Nest, looking over the void and watching the water spill into the abyss below. He could see a terribly long way down, but the water never ceased falling. He thought of the man that went over Niagara in a barrel and shivered. His ship, as perfect for him as she was, would not offer such protection. Gripping the rigging, he stood up and resigned himself to ruin.

The she-monster, at that very moment, had taken an interest in the man. Her shadow came out of the water and rested on the deck, her bluish-green hide towering into the air, salt water dripping from it. McTavish shot a look her way and could almost believe what he saw -- after all, he was about to drop off the edge of the flat map. She pulled a tentacle up and wrapped it around the main sail, just high enough that McTavish could walk its length. He understood that is what she wanted, and he complied. With a flip of the appendage, she shot the captain to her shoulder and they watched as the ship went over the edge, lost for all eternity.