[center][i]Kyne’s Tear[/i][/center]

	Being onboard a ship always boosted Leif’s morale. To him, being surrounded by the open waters, with a wooden deck beneath his feet, gave him power. Power in the sense that he had spent nearly eight years sailing, it was like second nature to him. Not to mention the breeze coming in off the sea felt marvelous on the seared portions of his face. He made an effort to check on Elmera every once in awhile, and took it upon himself to heal the burns himself. For the most part, Leif continued to avoid Do’Karth, although some of his hatred towards the Khajiit had dwindled, mainly because he made an effort to forget. His heart still ached for Sevine, however, the rejection there would not subside. At least not yet.

	In the meantime, Leif spent his time helping out with ship duties. It was such, that when he had a moment of freedom, he wandered over to inspect the massive ballistas. Overall, Leif was impressed at the sheer size of what looked like to him, a giant firing crossbow. Needless to say, after he gave them a once over, he stuck to volunteering around the ship. On occasion, he crossed paths with Do’Karth, but he didn’t pay him much attention. He had more important things to do than to squabble with a [i]cat[/i]. Most of his thoughts now, were focused on the present task at hand, surviving and returning to Dawnstar, and finding comfort in the arms of some maid. He spotted Solveig and Sadri sitting beside one another, and while he witnessed her throwing her arms about him, he felt a sense of esteem towards the two of them. Even though Solveig had chosen a knife-ear, she was a fierce warrior, and a respectable Nord woman, just like Sevine. The esteem came from the fact that he hadn’t loved her like he had Sevine, and the fact that she hadn’t stomped on his heart. It was by this time that the winds of change had arrived. 

	The distinctive sound of the war horn blowing caused him to scan the horizon. While he couldn’t immediately see any sign of danger, he soon discovered that the sailor in the crow’s nest had sighted a Kamal frigate. As if on cue, the plated ship emerged on scene from the port-stern. His heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach. How in the world did the Kamal’s find them so soon? He cursed under his breath, and jumped into action. Ducking below deck, he fetched his leather armor, helm, and longsword, where he strapped it to his back. When he re-emerged, the frigate had closed the gap between the [i]Tear[/i] and themselves. Hargjorn barked orders, trying to prepare those onboard for imminent contact with their enemies. 

	While there were those on deck making ready for battle, Leif joined the sailors in their work to pull the two ships together. He heaved with great effort alongside the men, muscles straining, and sweat running in rivulets from the strain. When the [i]Tear[/i] sidled along next to the frigate, close enough for those attempting to board, Leif moved between preparing the bolts by lathering them up with oil, and bringing more fire salts to those launching them at the frigate. For the time being, this is all that kept him occupied. Should the Kamal try to board the [i]Tear[/i], Leif would dive into action, and see to it that they might a fiery end.