— Amid all the tumult of the rain and gale, came the crackling sound of thunder booming loudly overhead. In the gusty autumn sky, dark clouds spread rapidly covering the sunlight and hope along with it. Bramin, hugging the mast of the ship, roared out to the captain of the ship as the wind blowed and the sea billowed thunderingly around the little ship’ how long left till Gravenfall?’ The ship captain gave the reassuring smile of a man drowned in total agitation, teeth grinding, sweat pouring down his forehead and quickly answered ‘three days left, three days at best, but under this weather…at least a week at best if we get there in one piece.’
As he spoke, the wind, choosing this moment to play a unamusing trick on the crew, veered and gusted so wildly that it threatened to overturn the ship. Yet the little Braided Maid held strong swerving back and forth and refusing to present its belly to the sky.
They had taken a bet against the odds. Sailing in a great tempest without a Windwhisperer aboard was not seen as pure bravado but as mere folly. Bramin had no time to lose and the captain of the ship had been slightly under the effects of alcohol when he had agreed to sail north towards Gravenfall. Now, however, he looked sober as a judge. And probably deeply regretted this bizarre idea that had wormed its way into his head in some back-alley tavern. Although, it was too late to turn back now anyway. He could only sail on, hoping he had not made his last bad decision.
Written by Issa Dioume