(We can back track if there was anything missed. Figure we've milled about the boat for a while now.)
"So you don't watch where you step and I'll have to sleep on a splintery floor?" he flashed an impish grin and snatched a nearby blanket, curling up in in the corner of the room. The boy briefly averting his eyes from Isabeau; girls hardly had the same allure for him these days. Thoughts of losing his magic book, and how he'd really be some smelly little dockrat without it now, staved off sleep. He decided not to complain since Isabeau was probably sick of hearing of it.
The captain's own dreams were troubled. She was on a raft in the ocean amidst the flotsam of a shipwreck. Her crew called out from the water around her, begging to be rescued, but the fog was thick. Each time she paddled to drowning sailor something would drag him screaming beneath the waves... she would wake in a cold sweat.
The morning after was fortunately uneventful. Isabeau walked the deck. Crag had the men lower the sails and prepare for docking. Ewan scurried about swabbing the deck and running errands. swabbed the deck and cleaned the galley surprisingly well when Tully put a scare into him.
By noon Faran's rest was in sight. It was technically part of Yoreiq but so tiny and remote from the archipelago it was never inhabited. Now, it was a shanty town sporting a few orchards in the scrubby highlands.There was no proper lord or chieftain, though a former captain called Snorri Darkfisher collected tribute from residents in exchange for protection. There was an understanding between crews that peace was to be kept, at least while dockside.
Ewan Sat perched on a barrel at the helm, while Isabeau guided the Poison Storm onto the dock.