As the small rowboat left the harbor, Ivor piloted it, taking it out into the open sea. As he made his way away from the base, he got a look at the surrounding area. The base seemed to be on a plateau at the edge of Lebara Island, which was rocky, having a number of cliffs and rock formations supporting the town, dark spots underneath warning of dangerous caves. As he maneuvered away, he took in a few landmarks, figuring it might be best for things to cool down before they tried to make land, but as the sun sank, he headed away from the island, and any pursuit, for now.

As they drifted in the sea, the island being little more than a dot in the distance, lit up by the town on its mass, Ivor looked up as Margaret touted their accomplishment. As she finished, she began to fall, and Ivorio hopped up, grabbing her by the arm and setting her down safely. They couldn’t stay like this, he soon realized: it was too dangerous. Neither of them could swim, and Margaret could barely even move.

Steeling himself, Ivor began to row back to the island: they needed some form of help in one way or another. He was hoping to spend the night out here, but it was far too risky, they needed land, and the only option was Lebara. Turning back to Margaret as he rowed, Ivorio asked, “How do you think you’re gonna be able to hold up? I don’t know if finding help will be so easy.”