Having ripped a bit of the unconscious teen's tunic and fastened it into a bandage on the remains of that nasty bug bite, I shuffle my way up the coast, promptly joined by Gepetto.
"Cloth and household goods, right?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"On the ship." He gestures towards our glimmering destination.
"What makes you think that's part o' the ship?"
"We landed here. It only makes sense that--"
"Makes sense? What makes sense? That mountain that rose straight outta the sea and destroyed the ship? Or that monstrous howl that came before it?"
This shuts him down for a bit. We continue in silence for a bit. After a while I feel a little guilty, but only a little. He's barely more than a kid, despite the facial stubble and receding hairline.
"Where'd you learn to roll the bones like that?" I ask, looking to lighten the mood.
He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. Still stinging from my earlier harshness, he finally offers up, "I'd spy on my father as a kid. He'd hunker down with a few other Coldlanders a few times a week. They'd play dice and drink mead."
"Coldlander, huh?" I look him up and down, scrutinizing his rather non-Coldlander appearance.
"My mother's from the tropics."
Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's not. Right now, I decide I don't really care. "Okay."
I squint at our objective, now more defined. A sunken tower, as if the sand had withdrawn to reveal a long forgotten.... Wait. Something rises from the tip, blurring the sunlight.
"It's a smokestack!" announces my companion. He stops dead.
I continue onward for a few steps before glancing back over my shoulder. "Come on, lad. We're nearly there."
