The ship groans around me like a living thing, and I can hear the far off thrumming of its engines like the rushing of blood in my own ears. It sways rhythmically under my feet, and I feel as though I’m balanced on the back of an ancient beast, slowly plodding over the sand. We’re moving together, the ship and I and its cargo of a thousand other souls. We’re tied together by metal and wood and gravity, balanced impossibly between this place of warmth and certain cold death. I put my hand on a wall and feel moisture, condensation from collective breath and the storm outside. It’s sweating.