drink the wild air

JACK

Flying north is as good an excuse as any to get out of the frigid water and snow-heavy air around King's End, and it certainly helps that there's a potential new business venture to be found up here too. The desert isn't much to look at yet, but Jack can already see where things will one day be something along the shores of the Spillwave; as The Ark descends he spots crates of supplies, piles of lumber, tools and all the expected clutter associated with construction.

Sailing from sky to sea and allowing The Ark to kiss the Spillwave with her keel, he leaves the crew to do what they do best - some remaining on board to enjoy the sun and warm water, others joining him to come ashore and inspect the soon-to-be-region, if things go well.

Having shed his coat with the more balmy weather, Jack is left in a dusty blue shirt rolled to the elbows and a pair of darker pants, and as he meanders among a few crates shoved up against the foliage from the Suvahasi creeping in, his air magic is already at work around him to keep him cool. Nevertheless, he finds a shady patch to stand in and light a cigarette, eyes sharp behind his sunglasses for any sign of dream cacti - or crates containing the much more interesting stuff that comes from them.

you're the last of a dying breed; write our names in the wet concrete
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

Code stolen from Queen Sky