An island

Sloshing sounds come to you ears. The sound of a the wind. Warm, dry sand beneath you. You know this. This is the beach

You are beached. Bad news given the state you are in. injured, weak and dehydrated. You're body is heavy and it is no easy feat to move on land, even fed and uninjured.

You become aware of hands touching your carapace. Alarmed you **** your eyes open and squint in the bright sun seeing humanoid figures around you.

You lash out with a telepathic demand for them to get away from you. Your eyes adjust to the light and you see dark skinned men and women surround you. Dressed In grass skirts and crudely woven cloth. The necks adorned with trinkets from the sea.

One of them, a well built man approaches you, cautiously trying to communicate. You try to use your knowledge of the human tongues. Fortunately they speak one of the many dialects of the oceanic languages, you understand that they they mean you no ill and only want to help to recover and treat your injuries.

You are no longer so naive as to trust them fully, but your body is heavy, and you don't have the strength to haul yourself out of your predicament. You have no real choice but to accept, since you couldn't stop them if they tried to **** the issue. They use what seems to be a system of rolling logs to transport your 250kg body (you were still young after all) up their island to to their home.