sailing from another world

“Shoes?” she asks, with a look of interest. Huh. An adventuring cobbler. How unique. “I wasn’t expecting that.”  What she was expecting is entirely unknown. Even to her. But it definitely wasn’t that. Of course, Wessex has no need for shoes. She doesn’t feel the cold, the heat, or pain. She doesn’t form blisters and she won’t bleed if something pierces her skin. She will leave a silvery trail behind her, but she may not even register it until her ‘systems’ tell her so. She’s lucky she hasn’t had to test her healing abilities yet. Just, you know, stay away from the blasted sun. The river rushes along beside them, behind a line of bushes and down a rock-lined bank. She listens for other unnatural noises and is keenly aware that they might suddenly find their path blocked, the two of them surrounded, or that caution may simply plague her mind all night and nothing important will happen. Nevertheless, Are’s statement registers. “Have you had contact with them?” The more she knows, the better, and she isn’t above prying it out of someone else. WESSEX She whispered back, I am the storm