Our craft is tossed about by the seas. We discuss the best way to catch fish.

The children play a game using dried beans and glass beads.

The children listen as the elders recount imperial ships.

A warm wind from the south. The craft is tossed about by the waves.

The unforgiving waves rock the pontoon. Brown ruins. Rocks tumble and splash.

Another dream; this time of the gentle animals abandoned on that beach.

Obsidian ridges dotted with vagrants with red eyes. They raise their mechanical spears as we pass..

A warm wind from the south.

The children draw pictures of delicious eels.

Ancient crags are carved with pictures of eels.

The restless waves shimmer. We drift past some sort of airship.

Distant islands with promises of medicinal fungi.

A misshapen contraption drifts past. A strange construction.

Slithering things rise. We do our best to keep everyone on board.

An empty horizon. The raft sails onward. Children count feathers as the elders speak of seamen with barbed harpoons, on a journey to find a handful of red treasures, cut to resemble fish.

A noisy contraption hovers briefly above our pontoon.

The malevolent water.

Stars dwindle into morning.

Black clouds burst above. We will not sleep tonight.

The sun beats down upon the skiff. The vessel is still. The children pretend to be angry folk with daggers of silver.

The starlit waves twinkle.

The heavens roar with thunder and we lose several crates overboard.

The starlit waves surge. Vine-strewn rockfaces.

We hope for savory roots.

The waves shimmer. A ritual; berries for the sea, a drum for the skies.

The lazy seas twinkle. The elders weave baskets.

A pillar of light in the night sky. The children ask about the clash of spears.

The restless water. Orange cliffs.

The churning ocean.

An imperial dreadnought looms over us. We ready our weapons, but they pass quietly.