Shaken but not yet down for the count, Zanna winces as she pushes herself into a sitting position. There's sand in her hair, sand in her clothes, sand in her mouth, sand in her...well that's doesn't even bear mentioning, and that seems to be the least of her worries. Tucked tightly beneath one arm, like a child, is a rough-shod guitar case that is looking rougher still in the wake of the crash. Half in the water, half out of it, it seems that the case has broken the worst of her fall.

Quick as anything, she drags it away from the water and draws it into the safety of her lap. If anything has happened to her guitar, you'd better believe she'll be suing this bloody cruise line into the Nth dimension. Nobody endangers baby.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay - the words play in her head over and over again like a song stuck on repeat as she unlatches the clasps and opens the case to peer inside.