"What do you call the transport ships of this era?" Calliope asked, emphasizing every syllable so Beren might understand her. He tried to reply back with equal consideration as they strode through the thick brush. Beren had acquired a small, chopping sword from one of the dead men, and chopped away the clinging vines every few feet. It appeared even the skeleton crew that had been left to tend the boats had been slaughtered, though from what, it was difficult to say. Beren did not try and decipher the mystery, merely wishing to get out of there as soon as possible. The fact the most dangerous denizen of this accursed place was now two strides behind him, chatting with him, was a fact not lost on the young man. 

"It... depends." He said, or at least he hoped he found the right word for his meaning. "We came on a [i]Dromon[/i], but there are various types of ships called a dhow, and a Baghlah is the largest of these." 

"Explain this [i]Dromon[/i] to me." She commanded, as if Calliope were speaking to a subject of a newly founded kingdom. Beren had to keep in mind this was likely exceedingly polite to her, though she had been uncharacteristically sweet in the cave. He needed to keep an eye out for that. 

"It's a large ship with 3 flaps-" He did not know the Xerubian term for 'sail.' "Many strips, oars! Many oars to speed its way. A fist at its fore to hit other ships, with a full deck of many men. It is a long structure." 

"What material is it made of?" She inquired. A strange question, but Beren answered politely. 

"Wood?" He asked, glancing at her curiously. She merely accepted the answer, and he was glad he had guessed her question correctly, but it begged the question what else a seafaring vessel might be constructed out of. "With no crew left, I think we'll have to make do with a rowboat. There's another island half a day's travel here, like I said, and from there we can make it north to Ubtal in a matter of a week." 

"Come now, why travel a week on the ocean in a dingy, fishing for food and at the mercy of storms. Why not simply ask a favor of me? I am a goddess, I am not going to sleep under the open sky on such a small vessel. You do know if you die, I am not-..." Her words trailed away, which he did not take as a good sign. Suddenly he felt a surge of danger, as if the air had changed, and he half expected a knife in his back, or something far more sorcerous. Instead, he heard a softer tone. "Actually Beren, I have a suggestion that would work out for the both of us." 

The warrior monk turned, only to find Calliope far closer to him than her voice had suggested. Her right hand brushed his arm, her left reaching up to fix the length of his cloak around his neck. "I know of a place very close to here, unless I miss my guess." She remarked, her voice sonorous, even husky. "There is a gateway there, that leads us northward, likely far closer to this Ubtal." 

Beren swallowed, keeping a stern countenance on the outside, but unable to help notice how lovely she was. Finally, he managed to find his tongue. "Why did you not mention this earlier?" 

"I simply hadn't thought of it," she said innocently, fluttering her dark lashes. "Being petrified for thousands of years can do much to one's mind, but things are slowly returning to me."  

He did not know if he believed her explanation, but he did believe in the gateway. Still, he could not help but feel this was some trick. He opened his mouth to speak, only for the ground to reverberate from the loud snarl of a massive, spotted jungle cat emerging from the ferns just three paces away. It had moved as silent as death. Beren was good with beasts, but they were in its territory, and he lifted his staff to keep both it and himself between the huge panther and Calliope, his sense of chivalry overriding his logic for the briefest moment. 

"Let's back away," Beren suggested. He had yet to notice Calliope's irritated visage glaring at the cat for ruining the bait she had set. The feline swiped at the staff with paws the size of plates, batting it to the side before emitting another threatening growl. Beren was ready to wrestle this thing, but Calliope merely crossed her arms under her chest, breathed in, and snarled back. 

The sound that erupted from her lips was thrice the strength of the jungle cat's growl, so powerful the ferns and foliage swayed and shuddered. The muscled beast's eyes went comically wide, and it leaped back in surprise and fear before scurrying away like a street cat, its great paws sending gobs of dirt flying in its haste to escape. Beren did not blame the cat, having jumped himself from fright, and only his fingers being locked had kept the staff in his grip. 

"Now then, where were we?" Calliope asked, the sweet facade gone. She looked at Beren expectantly. "Shall we take my suggestion?" 

"Yeah, sure, of course." He said breathlessly.