Even though the habit of drinking and talking late into the night with Berlin had reached the point of tradition between the two of them, Pieter still marveled as he drifted off in his cot at how he'd made it this far. It was the same childlike disbelief he'd felt when he saw his first miracle.

---

Hanabaptiste breathed as Uban removed the gentle pressure from the back of her head. She hadn't realized she had been holding it in. She stilled again as he reapplied the razor, and Hana could almost feel the ghostly touch of the missing finger. "So you aren't fully trained? Didn't finish school or something?" Hana stiffened, and pressed her hands against her legs. Despite the change, his hands never wavered. He had never denied his past, or hid who he was. A breeze rippled across the sails, leaving behind a trail of snapping. The murderer's hands were steady, and despite the frequent passes made with the blade, it hadn't drawn blood. 

"Ha! Well, you see, that's a bit of a story. My family are merchants- taking the wine and enchantments from Elbar and shipping them down the Long Sea, until they looped past Ulraks Claw, the fortress of the headless men, the Anthropophage..."

She talked. She talked mostly about the tall tales and captain biographies her father told her, how the empirical truth of modern reports often seemed more outlandish than the tales of Siljhak the Captain, who once anchored on a island, which turned out to be the egg of a giant sea monster, which hatched while they were ashore. Their voices were hushed, and she sat long after he had finished shaving.

--

Wheel waded through the waves to reach shore. The island was deserted- peat covered the remains of long collapsed buildings that lined the cliffs looking out on the sea. Beyond the bluffs, a pine forest overtook the island. It was surprisingly dense- beyond a span or two the trees grew thick and gnarled. 

They were setting up camp before the forest, and Wheel put down a heavy crate, setting it next to another. Pieter was setting up the tents the crew would be sleeping in. One for Berlin and Pieter, one for Wheel and Uban, one for Hanabaptiste, and a pup tent fashioned out of old sailcloth for Rohaan. Wheel's training regimen wouldn't be done in a day, and he didn't want to waste time rowing back to the ship, though he thought the exercise wouldn't hurt some of them. The boy had dashed off into the forest, happy to hunt. Wheel whistled, a simple ditty that he'd heard the oyster girls whistle when he was a boy. The pulse beneath his eyes was slight, only palpable enough for him to appreciate it's presence. They were making good headway, it was only mid morning.