And fly to the skies from your land
It really is a sight to behold. The sails become one with the sunrise, ethereal and casting a soft, rosy glow into the rays of the sun. I smile as I watch, and then, the ship stirs with life. A whistle piques my attention, and then, a man leaves the ship’s bottom steps. My head tilts, and I follow his gaze to where someone responds with gestures to his whistles. A few more indecipherable gestures are made before the strange man strides away.
He breezes by me, and I turn, blinking. That’s his ship. Must be. He heads for a breakfast stall, and I wait a few moments, watching. I glance back at his ship. If I was a little less intelligent, I might try and stow away on his ship, but something tells me I wouldn’t make it very far if I tried to board.
And, I remind myself, it isn’t needed. I can get there without hiding to do it.
Now’s my best chance at that. I cross the road, put a charming, easy smile on—the one that gets me out of trouble when I’m lucky. “‘Scuse me,” I say as I approach. I clear my throat a little. Nervous energy crackles through me. I’ve got to get to Torchline. “That ship—” I point, one eye squinted against the sun before I look at him again, “—is she taking passengers?”
The land that you love and all that you are
