Camilla considered killing Ivan Petrovich. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed her mind, or even the forty first but, as usual, the plan foundered on the same points of logic. Ivan was a big man, and thus the logical choice for her to eat if this went on to long. Secondly, if a storm came up, his bulk would provide much needed buoyancy and last but not least it really had been a pretty good plan when it all started.

The Middle Sea, or maybe it was the Great Ocean, lapped playful at the wreckage as Camilla pushed herself reluctantly to her feet. The piece of wreckgage, formally a twenty foot section of hull from the Water Lilly, a trader from Brettonia bobed in the slight swell. Cydric sat in the improvised cross trees perhaps eight feet from the deck, keeping a look out for any sails or sight of land, Camilla didn't ask him if he saw anything, he certainly would have said so if he had.

The improvised raft was all that was left of the Water Lilly and as far as Camilla knew they were the only three survivors. For now anyway. It had rained last night and at least their water situation would be alright for the next couple of days. Still, they need to find land and soon. Camilla walked the ten feet towards the back of the raft and felt the morning sun being to prickle her skin. At times, she had been jealous of the pale skin of Imperial women, now she was thankful for her tan because an Altdorf Blond would be a mass of sunburn after three days adrift at sea.

At the back of the raft three lengths of kipper wire, salvaged from a barrel of salt fish trailed out into the ocean, Camilla pulled them in, hand over hand. Two were empty, the little morsels of fish gone from the hooks Ivan had improvised, but on the third flopped a fat but exhausted fish with silver scales. Camilla squealed with delight and pulled the thing aboard, braining it with the bottom of her dagger. At least their wood be breakfast. They could wait another day before eating Ivan.


[@POOHEAD189]