"Praise the goddess Ben'eah!" Andradehus exclaimed to the bright sunrise he watched creep over the horizon. Jonthe consisted of wide, flat reaches of land bordered by massive mountains to the west. The sunrise he now watched creep elegantly over the flat horizon. He had always considered himself an early riser and breaking their camp before dawn proved no difficulty for him. He enjoyed watching the sunrise, as today proved by his exclamation of delight and praise to the goddess of day.

The remark brought a curious glance from his companion. A slight smile curved at the corner of his lips, but no words came forth. Frustrated, Andradehus looked away, wondering how long Nemarre could possibly remain quiet.

The rest of the morning passed in relative quiet. By mid-morning, a peaceful ease fell over Andradehus. When he would have else wise begun to feel anxious, he found he was enjoying today's quiet. Only twice during the rest of the day did he make any comments. Once to mention it would be advisable to stop for the mid-day meal, which was inevitably ignored. The last time was when he saw a deer to their left. It was Nemarre who had the bow, who shot it, and cooked the deer for their dinner.

Over the course of the next week, Andradehus learned the simplicity of silence. At first he experienced a mild depression, needing desperately to have contact with his normal life. With none of that present and with more than the loss of familiar surrounds, he felt adrift, without even the consolation one would expect from a companion. And yet, he had to admit, the simple silence was in itself consoling. Had he been at home, everyone would have come to see him, comfort him, nigh to the point of suffocation and there had been a few times he had simply wished they would leave him alone to his misery. Perhaps he had gotten what he wished for this time; absolutely no pity or comfort. But no hardness either. Yet he did wish, at least, some chatting to pass the time, or at the most, a diversion from his melancholy thoughts.

He only spoke three other times during the course of that week, yet for the most part he had come to prefer the silence, and Nemarre's company.

They came across no other travelers, and when Andradehus was beginning to feel the woods had swallowed them whole, reminding him of the childhood faerie tales of Zynne, the god of dark wood whom was known to trap men in his forests out of sheer malice, when Nemarre brought them out of the woods and to a small wayside inn.

Andradehus smiled in delicious delight. Warm beds and the sounds of other humans. Although worn looking, the inn was still inviting looking. Sounds of carousing erupted from the doorway when a man came stumbling out followed by raucous laughter. Andradehus looked to his companion hoping he would have them stay. The look on Nemarre's face was full of disgust and derision. Heart sinking, when Nemarre moved to indicate they would keep moving, he was surprised that the stables were his destination. Quietly he followed. They left their mounts in the care of the stable boy and headed inside. The last few nights had been chill and they had taken to wearing their cloaks. As a rough wind picked up, he pulled his cloak tighter around his body. Nemarre seemed unaffected.

When they entered the inn, the lights, sounds, smells, and the oppressive heat immediately assaulted Andradehus. They made their way to an empty table and sat to await a serving maid.

A dirty, buxom red-haired woman came sidling over to their table to take their order. While Andradehus had never claimed to be sheltered by his imperial life, he had nonetheless. The wretched state of this woman shocked him to the core. Her hair was natty and the dress barely covered her, but the smell, gods, it was the worst.

When she asked for their order, Andradehus was glad Nemarre answered for him. He was barely containing his discomfort as it was. The maid left and they were left to their own devices. The noises were becoming oppressive and he blanched when a half-naked woman dropped in his lap. He immediately gagged on her stench and fought for air as she pressed her naked breast against his face, her arms around his neck.

"Hey lovey!" And yer a pretty sight. Come, give Usa a kiss!" She smiled wide, showing her rotting teeth and Andradehus decided then that this wretched creature would not be touching him a moment longer. He shoved her roughly away from him, where she fell heavy to the floor. As he looked up to take a deep breath he noted the outrage that burst out near him.

"The hell! I'm a lady, and how dare you treat me as nothin' less!"

He wasn't listening, though. His eyes were riveted on Nemarre, or, more precisely, on his dagger being held against the large man who had been siting beside them.

"I would take it kindly, sir, if you would take your hand from my purse." It was then Andradehus noticed the large hand settled near Nemarre's waist. So the woman had been a diversion. The realization only served to rile his anger more. His eyes narrowed and flicked coldly to the thief's.

"You would be wise to do as he says."

The thief considered going for his own knife, reckoning on that he and his men were twice the size of Andradehus and Nemarre. Yet, as he felt the dagger at his throat press tighter, he reconsidered. Slowly, he removed his hand, cursing himself for his blunder.

A bowl of thick soup was put before Andradehus, along with a large mug of cider.

"Here you are, sirs," the serving maid stated bluntly. She was hoping to prevent any rash actions from taking place. Her hand shook slightly as she placed a bowl before Nemarre, revealing her nervousness. If he had noticed, and Andradehus was sure that he had, he made no acknowledgement and determinedly began eating. Andradehus followed suit, very much hungry and teased by the delicious smell wafting upwards from his bowl.

When they had finished and their mugs emptied, Nemarre made no pretense of being disgusted by the gathering room of the inn. He quickly made plans for a room and a notice to not be disturbed. Andradehus found himself grateful to be away from the noise and bawdy displays. He sighed in relief when he closed the door to their empty room.

To be honest, he had hoped the evening to have been enjoyable. He had not expected wanting to escape the sounds and gaiety, or the splitting headache that was now driving him mad with pain.

It came as no surprise that Nemarre refrained from conversation even now that they were away from the crowd. However, he was surprised when Nemarre lay down on the bed fully dressed save for the lack of his shirt. Andradehus thought it odd to sleep with one's boots on, but shrugged it away throwing his own shirt on the floor alongside his pack and cloak and lay beside Nemarre. His life had definitely taken a strange turn of events when Nemarre showed up to take him away with no explanations. Yet, a strange peace had begun to settle within him, and he could only think to thank the man for this most unexpected blessing.

~*~

They rose with the sun on the morrow. An uneventful day passed and Andradehus had never thought he be so happy to be alone, or simply, back to the gentle solitude Nemarre had introduced him to. Two days later, as they rode in a wash of late afternoon sunlight, Nemarre pulled back on his reins and came even alongside his charge.

"We ride to Florne Ganha, Seat of the Gods." He spoke elden tongue, the translation being closer to little gods rather than a full godhead.

"The Seat of the Gods? That's a myth!" he scoffed in response. That legendary land was meant for naught more than to tantalize the imaginations of small children. "You speak naught for nigh a fortnight, and then only to jest." He shook his head in confusion. What game could possibly be played by claiming a tale told to children was real?

"Florne Ganha is real, and s my home, as well as our destination."

"And what is our purpose in this mythical land?" He knew he was being asinine, but he was in utter disbelief. He had waited forever for an answer to his questions, and now he was being played a fool.

All he received for his mockery was a cold stare that chilled him deeply, inadvertently causing him to pull his cloak around him tighter. The man was serious, but how could one be serious about a myth? There had to be a reasonable answer, one that didn't lean on legends and make-believe to make sense of it all.

"I'm sorry. I'm just wanting to know why." He looked away, ashamed at his immature display.

"To fulfill your mother's end of the contract." He gave Andradehus a curious look. The name of their destination should have explained everything, yet, he was now having to deal with a rash of lunacy. It was true many of Jonthe did not believe in Florne Ganha as a real land or, if they did thought it simply a country of vast wealth and commerce. The child of Talla, however, should have known the truth. After all, it was she who had sought out the Council of El. A thought dawned brightly in his dark mind and flared his high tempered anger.

It couldn't be possible. Could she really have kept the boy unknowledgeable?

"The contract insured your travels to Florne Ganha and sealed your presentation to your father. Your mother had sought to keep you longer than the normal age appointed, and your father consented. Yet, she proved unwilling to relinquish you at all. That is why I am here. The mothers often cannot let go as they agreed upon in their contracts."

Finally, the shock wore through and Andradehus pulled his horse to a sharp halt. A biting wind breezed through, but he did not feel it, or at least respond. Slowly he lifted his eyes to Nemarre. Silence hung between heavy and thick. Andradehus had to break through it to weakly state, "My father is dead."

Nemarre narrowed his eyes, his suspicions slowly being realized. "Your father is not dead, Andradehus."

"He is, " Andradehus growled back. "How dare you mock his memory. He died before I was born. I am the only progeny of the once great man and my parent's great love, and you dare call my mother a liar!" He was breathing heavy now, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"Yes, I dare much, because I know the truth. I was there when the contract was consecrated. And if I lie, why else would your mother so willingly hand you over to me? I am not a man for many words, Andradehus, nor to be made a mockery of, as you mother so easily made sure of!"

Not knowing how to respond, he plowed through, desperately voicing his heart. "My mother loved my father far too much to have slept with another! What you suggest places all of Jonthe in a quandary."

Nemarre held his tongue a moment. A strange, foreign feeling of pity spread through him. Truthfully, Nemarre did not expend much of his thought or pity for any of these godlings he came to retrieve. It was simply business, and after all, when they arrived in Florne Ganha, all questions would be answered, all doubt laid to rest. But the strong pride, the readiness to learn whatever Nemarre set him to task, and his final acceptance of Nemarre's solitude had endeared the boy to him unlike any other charge he had overseen. Gently, he tried, finally, to explain enough to set the boy at some ease.

"It was the Empress Talla's love for her husband that drove her to seek Florne Ganha. Her husband had died, leaving her childless. She believed that if she could give birth to a child, she could lie to herself and say it was her beloved's. Thus, she sought out the Council of El, and thus she conceived you. I can only assume she kept all of this a secret, as revealed by your ignorance of my presence and our current purpose. The contract must be upheld, Andradehus, and you must be presented to your father." He looked to the sun setting near the horizon, oddly at unease with his tenderness towards the boy.

"Don't be afraid, and don't blame the father you have never met. Pass no judgements until all truth and all facts be revealed."

It was not unreasonable, and Nemarre seemed earnestly concerned. A change, Andradehus noted, so unlike the man he'd come to know. He was simply amazed at the consideration.

"I will trust you, Nemarre. My fate rests in your hands."

With that confirmation, Nemarre nudged his horse forward, knowing Andradehus would follow as he always had. He had not expected that totals submission, yet there it had been. It could be dangerous; to be that naïve, but perhaps it was simply the shock. To be lied to your whole life, to one day wake to find all you believed truth nothing but false. Yes, Nemarre could understand.

Nemarre shook his head. Florne Ganha not exist! The next thing he'd be told was that magic and faeries didn't exist as well! But he was sure Talla would not have gone so far as to deny the gods their sublime existence. He gave a cruel inner smile. She'd know better than that one.

Oh, yes. And it was a good thing she had.

~*~

The dusty trail had finally reached Andradehus' mouth during mid-day. They'd seen no other travelers during the past several days. The last they'd seen was a down-trodden priest five days prior who had not bothered to raise his eyes in greeting. He reached for his flask as he thought over, once more, Nemarre's revelation.

His life was a lie. All he believed was a lie. Perhaps that was an extreme assumption, but his pride was wounded, his self-esteem unsettled. His mother had lied to him. His beautiful mother. No wonder she would not speak when he departed; her shame bit deep.

Nemarre had not spoken again since he informed Andradehus of his mother's deceit. That was a week ago and still he was being haunted by the ache. Equal to that, he wondered constantly what else his mother had lied to him about and how deep the deception truly went. What had she been capable?

"We are nearing the port city of Kille. We shall meet up with a comrade of mine who will sail us from this land to our home."

Andradehus looked up. So soon? Soon he will look upon Jonthe for his last time and leave behind all he had ever known and loved. And yet, there again was that sick bitter feeling in his gut, the unanswered, tortuous questions. What really did he know of the world?

"How… how long?"

"Within the hour." So succinct, Andradehus thought. So quick. And he felt it was all happening so fast now. He replaced his unopened flask feeling he'd not be able to get the liquid past his throat now.

Half an hour later he looked up to see the silver shimmer of the port city. A wind blew the sea air to him and he tasted the salt on his tongue. Although he was unnerved by the many painful thoughts so often filling his mind lately, he still felt the unmistakable thrill of newness and adventure course through him. He'd never seem the ocean, had always desired to do so.

He idly wondered if the sounds would overwhelm him such as they had that night they stayed at the inn. But it was to be expected. And, too, this was the end to their solitary companionship. From here on out there would be at least one other. He smiled to himself wondering how Nemarre would be then.

When they entered the city, he grinned at how similar to the capital it was, and also how dissimilar. The hustle of peasants carrying on their shopping, the shop owners hawking their wares. Even the refuse in the streets mingling with the sweet stench of sweat and grime. All these were so like his home. But the architecture was vastly different. Here the walls were dirt colored and white; stained by the salt of the sea. The buildings sat squat and heavy, a bulwark against the torrential sea storms.

They stopped before an extravagant inn and dismounted, handing their mounts over to the stable hand. Nemarre gave the poor boy a forbidding look full of black violence before relinquishing the reins. Andradehus held back a grin as the boy's hand shook.

"One hair out of place and I will flail your hide personally." He turned away and headed to the entrance. Andradehus followed; vaguely wondering what surprise would come next.

The fittings were better than he had expected, nothing near as posh as a palace, however. They headed straight to the stairs without consulting the innkeeper, and Andradehus thought it very peculiar, was more than slightly confused, but reasoned he'd have his answer soon enough.

They stopped before a corner room and Nemarre rapped sharply on the red paneling. They heard a fumble from within, a loud curse, then heavy strides crossing the room. The door flew open and crashed brazenly against the wall.

"Who the… " he stopped short mouth agape, one hand braced on the threshold, the other holding a sheet around his waist. He lifted one hand in surprise, albeit the wrong one, and his sheet fell down off his hips. A second more and he was howling with laughter.

"Nemarre, you old crow! I expected you days from now. Well, come in, then," he grinned, casually bending to retrieve his sheet as though unaware of his nudity. Andradehus didn't know whether to cringe or laugh. When the man opened the door, he had most definitely not expected what had taken place. A green haired man with short-cropped hair nearly naked was the least of his expectations. Blazing green hair. Andradehus could barely concentrate on the man's babbling simply because he'd never lain eyes on such odd colored hair. He blinked in consternation as he numbly followed Nemarre into the spacious room. Too much strangeness, he thought.

"Well, you both had best let me dress. I had a late night last night," he chuckled, walking to the bed and giving a hearty slap to the uncovered backside. A young blonde rose lazily, smiling, and moved to curve into him. He pushed her away and stood to don his pants. "Time for you to be going, girl, and have a maid sent up lunch for three. Knowing my companion, he wouldn't have stopped for food. Now be quick about it," he winked and turned his back on her. The girl pouted prettily, but slipped her forgotten dress on and quickly left the room.

"Never with a cold bed are you, Sherst?"

"Of course not, lovey. And why should I? Especially when they're all so willing?"

"I should have ordered the maid to prepare a hot bath. I abhor travel. The lack of amenities tries me sore."

The man referred to as Sherst chuckled warmly. "Aye, I know it does, but you lie when you say you abhor it," he winked. "We'll have her prepare one as we eat." He sat on the edge of the bed as Nemarre made his way to a large sofa and sprawled across it. Andradehus stood awed at the comfort this man he'd come to know exhibited before Sherst. He sat heavily in a straight-backed chair set apart from an elegantly dressed dining table, slightly feeling forgotten and ever increasingly puzzled.

"Yes, and then we shall make preparations to leave this godless land. I don't see how you tolerate it, Sherst."

"It's an acquired taste, my dear. Now, I believe we've ignored our poor boy long enough," he glanced to Andradehus, gracing him with a warm, inviting smile, acknowledging his presence for the first time. "How was Nemarre? His normal ornery self?" he laughed.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir?"

"Ach! None of this "Sir" business. I'm liable to scalp you should you ever try that one again. It sounds so refined and gentlemanly, and I am far from ever being either and never choose to be so, unlike this old man over here," he threw a thumb at Nemarre who simply turned his head away in annoyance. "My name is Sherst and your name should be Andradehus unless Nemarre screwed up and grabbed the wrong boy. Although, for him to make a mistake must mean the end of life as we know it, so he must have gotten the right one! Don't look so confused. It was your father who chose your name. It's even included on the contract. So seriously, how was Nemarre? He's such a wretched traveling companion."

"He barely spoke during our journey. That's truly all I know."

"Yep, same ornery self. I'm glad to see you survived, boy. He's known to eat young'uns alive," he threw back his head and laughed, only interrupted by the maid's knock. "Oh, good! Nourishment!" He called the maid in who left their meals and drinks on the table.

"Be sure to bring hot water for a bath. I shall expect it ready before I finish my meal," Nemarre ordered tersely. The maid bobbed a curtsy and hurried from the room, or Nemarre's dark glower as Andradehus reasoned.

They ate quickly, Sherst keeping the conversation light. Soon the topic turned to the final leg of their journey. Andradehus had assumed they'd be crossing the ocean and he was most curious to see the ship. But his two guardians spoke mostly of merchandise they seemed to be taking back with them.

"You're in luck, Nemarre. We loaded the last of the cargo yester eve."

"Seems you were expecting me today."

"Perhaps!" he laughed. "Nevertheless, we should be ready to set sail when you are."

"Then when Andradehus and I have bathed, let us depart."

"One day you'll come to appreciate all these lands outside of Florne Ganha."

Nemarre gave Sherst a disdainful glance. "You keep saying that. You probably always will."

That brought another hearty laugh from Sherst while Andradehus smiled at their antics. Their lunch soon finished, and the maid complete with her task to prepare a bath, Sherst stood to take his leave of the other two. When he was gone, Nemarre stood and made his way over to the tub. Andradehus meandered over to the open window to look out on the sea and remained wrapped in his own thoughts until sometime after he heard Nemarre relax back in the tub.

"Why do you hate this land so much, Nemarre?" he asked without looking.

Nemarre responded with a dark smile. "Truly, do you want to know?" Andradehus inclined his head. "Well then!" There was a splash when he leaned back in the tub followed by a moment's silence.

"I was born in this land in the Northern Regions of Unthar. For whatever twisted perversion of my father's, he took the pleas of a young noble man's wife. She could not bear him a son and in those days an heir was so all important that she was to be put to death so the man could take to him a new wife. To save her own neck she sought the Council of El and my father accepted.

"My mother was by no means a kind woman. She was bitter and malicious. When I had reached five years, my surrogate "father" died one night. After the customary period of mourning had passed, my mother, who had already caught the eyes of another prosperous noble, married him and bore him a child within their first year of marriage. I was an aberration to their eyes; the two lands were merged into one and my necessity abolished.

"For these reasons I abhor politics," he scoffed. "This land, full of its filth and grime. I have spent far too much time returning to this land that forsook me. My mother ignored the contract and seeking to further her new life sent me away to the Northern Wastes. I realize you have never been there, but if you have heard of it, know it is the truth; the land is cruel to those that live there and it is all its name promises. I grew up scavenging for nourishment, hardly clothed, beaten when I stole. Filthy and dirty when one day a man came to me and whisked me away from my earthly hell.

"But that was all a very long time ago. So many years in fact, that I never think about those years of solitude and hunger, but my animosity has always remained. And I hate this place."

He fell silent and Andradehus could find nothing to say. He could not blame Nemarre for his anger. And his one escapade at the inn they had stayed one night at was his only true experience with the world outside. He knew he could not imagine Nemarre's pain. In silence, he remained where he stood as Nemarre finished with his bath and stood.

"Go ahead and use the tub before it gets too cold. We'll join Sherst at his ship when you are ready to leave."

Within the hour they closed the door to the hotel room and proceeded downstairs and out to the stables. Nemarre glared at the stable boy once more who, like all stable hands before him, relinquished the reins with almost ecstatic glee.

A bubbling of incredulous giddiness overtook Andradehus as they approached the harbor. The western horizon stretched farther into the distance than he could ever have dreamed of and the salty sea air made him feel vigorous. That he had never once visited the sea before, he now considered a shame. The harbor was busy, bustling with prosperous businesses and trade. At his first sight of the ships he caught his breath. They were magnificent behemoths, bobbing gently on the sea of crystal green-blue. Their sails were clouds of color; reds and browns, blues and greens. A few were painted with symbols representing the individual vessel. He could barely sit still from the excitement and wonder.

"Which is Sherst's?" He looked over the vast harbor wonderingly.

"There," he pointed, "the one with the sails of black and red with the arcuire symbol for wind. Her name is Sie Averia." Andradehus was not altogether knowledgeable about what constituted a magnificent vessel, but surely this had to be one of the finest.

"Averia's Ark. She's beautiful," he breathed.

"Yes, even I must agree. But never mention this to her owner; he has enough pride filling his billows as is." He nudged his horse forward and they came closer to the ship, fighting the heavy crowds. The stares were worse here. He had long grown accustomed to strange stares at his appearance, but the sight of both Andradehus and Nemarre against the washed out colors of the lower class Jonthians captured attentions. They made it to the dock delayed greatly by the multitudes gathering. There they dismounted and approached two men chatting near the base of the gang plank.

"Guthen, I want you to take Créma and Crésta to their holds."

"Yes, sir! Guthen responded obediently, taking the reins from Nemarre's hands and turning to take Crésta's from Andradehus when he stopped. With a curious expression he turned back to Nemarre. "Is this him?"

"Of course it is. Who else would be with me?" he retorted.

Taking the admonishment, he turned back to Andradehus and reached for the reins, awestricken.

"Come, Andradehus." Nemarre faced the ship and purposefully walked up the gang plank. Andradehus quickly followed. He paused momentarily at the top as he first stepped onto the deck, realizing as he did so that for the first time in his life he no longer set foot on land, but on a vessel that should take him swiftly from this land. He looked toward the docks and a strong pang of regret filled him. He should never return here, unless somehow he was to visit with Sherst and come as he and Nemarre had. Perhaps there were ways for him to visit if he chose to. Andradehus shook his head against the blowing wind and determined himself to find a way back, at least to visit.

"Ho, Nemarre! I see the two of you have finally made it aboard!" Andradehus looked to see Sherst clap Nemarre hard on the shoulder in his overly friendly way.

Nemarre smirked in response, "What else did you expect, you ruddy wind-bag!" He shook off Sherst's hand and sauntered away, throwing over his shoulder his caustic remarks. "I'll be in my chamber should you have dire need of me. Else wise, leave well enough alone."

Andradehus was beginning to feel a bit of a bother to these men. After weeks of Nemarre's company, he had felt a pretty good judge of his moods. The current one was of annoyance. It wasn't as though he had asked to be here. His eyes narrowed at the thought. Yet he was being treated as yet another bit of cargo.

"And you're just to leave the boy adrift, eh?" Sherst shot back.

Andradehus didn't care to hear anymore of their conversations. Hoping to stay out of the way, he moved to the bow and stood before the railings filling his vision with the last of Jonthe he might ever see. It wasn't too much longer before he heard a great excitement aboard the ship and turned around to watch the crew raise sails and ready the ship for her departure. The great movement aboard was terribly fascinating and Andradehus only wished that he could have known a portion of the work in order to participate.

He saw Sherst at the helm, reading over some papers and he felt a shudder as the Sie Averia moved away from the docks to set sail. A shout went up that thundered across the docks and Andradehus saw people cheering and waving. His chest clenched as he realized this was the final moment and made to watch the land recede from him, slowly at first, but quickening as the undertow and current pulled them from the shore. He watched for a long time, past the point where the shore line could no longer be seen and they were surrounded by endless sea under a brilliant day.

A sickening pain had crept between his eyes some time past, but he had attempted to ignore it. The salted wind had assaulted him with its unfamiliarity and causing an incredible thirst. His hands clenched to the railings and he was at first unaware of the male presence beside him.

"Enjoying the view?"

He looked up to see the bright green of Sherst's hair against an azure sky, squinting against the brightness of the day.

"Aye, it's lovely." He looked away and down, feeling incredibly dizzy and wishing there was somewhere he could simply lie down. He heard Sherst's hearty, warm laugh and felt the large slap on his back and the next thing he knew, he was hurling over the side of the ship.

No worries, it's to be expected for a sea virgin. But no fear, we shan't be on water much longer now. I believe we're well away from prying eyes."

The words seemed to make no sense and Andradehus was beginning to wonder if his sea-sickness was addling his brains as well as his gullet. Sherst's strong arm brought him close against his side, supporting Andradehus' light form.

"Look up, I'm about to give the signal. I doubt you will want to miss this!"

He lifted his heavy head to look about the ship and watched as Sherst lifted his arm to the first mate. A call bandied about the ship, to the rafters and to the deck and the deck began to feel as though it had lifted from beneath him.

"What-?"

"I don't believe your sea-sickness shall bother you much longer," Sherst winked at him. "Now, I must return to help manage our course. Our journey will progress much faster now." With a squeeze, he let Andradehus go and moved away.

Confused and still dizzy, he moved back to the railings and looked over, to be astonished by how far away the distance seemed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked back and decided then and there he must have lost it. There was no way possible for a sea ship to hover so far above the sea itself, no matter how naive he was about the world. Yet, there it was before him. Vertigo rushing over him, he turned away from the railings and tripped over his feet, landing hard on the wooden deck. He decided that had to have been the best option so far. Therefore, he lay with his cheek on the warm deck, closing his eyes, and letting all confusion melt away in a blissful slumber.

~*~

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