"Why?"
Arms tightly crossed against my chest, abrasive to the chill. My long coat fastened up to the last button. The boat trembles haphazardly, as if shuddering from the cold itself—a sudden sway forces me a step forward.
"Please, just take me to him."
Reinsbure's hand rested on the hilt. After a begrudging second, he nods, a reluctant accord. We move from the main deck towards the warren of sleeping quarters. My gaze does a quick peruse of what stirs beyond. The darkening skies forebode destruction, the louring clouds like a thick shroud, overcast with the shadows of distant high cliffs, crags of jagged rock jutting out from the stormy surface.
The swishing waves; a dismal grey buffets the flanks of the ship.
"A storm brewing," Reinsbure says thoughtfully. He rotates his face from right to left like his head is on a swivel. "She's angry."
"Who is she?"
