Coconut Grove Wilson

Something clicked within his mind then, as he struggled and he choked, that this was somewhere new which he had never visited before. The coast had never truly interested the golden boy. He wondered, thinly, weakly, if perhaps he had stranded himself upon an island.

He arched his head as best he could; the strain made him groan and the world spin, so that was swiftly curtailed. But he caught a glimpse of a strange tree hanging in his periphery - dusted with ice and snow but with fern-frond boughs creating the illusion of safety. He tried to get to his feet but the subtle wiggle of his hips or tensing of his limbs made him moan with pain.

The boy had not realized he was rooted to the spot, so to speak. During these struggles he came to forget about his company - the onlooker was a good distance away so that he became oblivious, distracted by the predicament he had been greeted with upon his waking.