Tangeo lies in a hammock between two large palms and several ash trees. The cool nighttime salty breeze blows in over the large lagoon. The full moon rises, causing waves to sparkle like a snake made of light slithering along the water top as it appears and disappears. He opens his eyes and brushes his long, dark bangs to his side. He gets up from the hammock and his worn black leather boots tap the hardwood floor, making a slight echo sound off the roof of the small wooden bungalow.

The boots create a clunk-tap cadence with an echo as he walks to the floor’s edge. He’s dressed in dark leather pants and a dirty, white, frayed, sleeveless, cloth vest that is open, displaying his chiseled abs and a bit of hair on his chest. The moon is now above the waterline and shines on the night like a muted day. Small waves splash on the shoreline in sequence. He recalls the memories of dancing in the bright moonlight with Catalina. They would intertwine as lovers, dancing in the darkness. Their flirtatious bodies tease one another as they twirl along with each other as one. Tangeo remembers both the joy of love and the pain of loss.

Then on cue, he can hear the click-clack of the castanets in his mind. Tangeo taps his left foot to the beat, followed by the right. The sultry picking of the guitar strings comes into a brisk beat. His hips sway from side to side as he backs away, reaching out his arms to grab someone who is not there. His eyes close as the music, rich with rhythm, begins a rapid tempo now that the maracas have shaken their beat.

Tangeo spins around and whips his head back as his long hair snaps as he removes his vest. His tanned skin glistens with sweat like little sparkling diamonds in the moonlight. The shadows emphasize his impressive muscles. His wanting eyes open and in front of him is a glowing lady wearing a green and white lace dress and knee-high black boots. Dark blonde hair, eyes of light green, and a smile of knowing what she wants to do while holding her arms out to him. He smiles back, grabs her arm, and pulls her into him with a spin as the music blares out in reality.

The guitar pitch changes from lively high to an alluring low while his hands caress down her sides to the length of her knee-high dress. She lifts her right leg, revealing more thigh, and pushes him away onto the floor. The music is at an energetic pace as he twirls to stand. He spins in sync with the strumming guitar and now quick hands beating a drum enter the dance. He approaches her side, and they grasp each other.

While the castanets click away, they sway as one. The couple twirl and their left arms go away from them while they hold on to each other with the other arm. Pulling back each other to hold hands, their foreheads touch and lean in as they tease a kiss to one another.

The tempo slows down and becomes softer. She steps away, and he twirls her back into him. Her leg goes up to his hip and she wraps it around him while he pulls her arm into the air above them. Their gazes lock on to each other with intense infatuation. He leans in to kiss, and she pushes away.

The enchanting guitar increases its melody. Tangeo picks her up. She rolls around on his shoulders, coming down on both feet. He lifts her high above his head. Her arms are stretched out as if flying, her back curved like a crescent moon and legs straight. The guitarist is passionately strumming higher notes faster again. Tangeo spins while holding her up and moving to the edge of the floor. Round and round they go with the beat like they used to. He tosses her into the air as she spins. He steps back, with her landing in front of him on one foot, spinning into his arms.

Their bodies are still, but their legs are dancing fast with the hurried tempo of the guitar. Her dress rips after being caught on a metal clasp on his pants, showing off more thigh and backside as the dress lifts from twirling.

She steps back, lifts her left leg while he grabs her thigh with both hands. The music dwindles, the other instruments go silent while the maracas sway in long, smooth strokes. She arcs back while her hands go into the air behind her. Tangeo is holding her foot with her head almost on the floor. He bends forward and kisses her thigh while gently loosening his grip, allowing his hands to slide down the length of her leg. All the instruments blast with intense devotion at once. With a mighty pull, she is lifted back up to him and goes to his right side, then pushes out from him and pulls into the other side.

They smile while rotating in unison. He stops and spins her toward the back of the room. Their hearts are racing as time and music seem to stop. They stare into each other’s eyes with a look of long-overdue passion. As they dance around, he leans in for a kiss. She lets go, and he watches as she wanes into small green sparkles and the music is now all but a faded echo.

Tangeo is left standing there in the darkness, with his heart pounding, lungs gasping for air, and sweaty arms reaching out. A small tear forms as once again his curse reminds him of what he has lost.

*****

Olivia leans against an aspen tree, staring at her home. The chilly mid-fall winds blow her dress carelessly. The tree’s once mighty golden leaves are now brown and broken, twirling along the ground as a constant hum and whistle comes from the leafless trees from the wind. Up on the hill near the craggy summits, the chimera is perched, overlooking the countryside.

Far off in the east, Olivia can see the coastal storm trying to come ashore. She cannot enter her house, for the memories of her parents’ disappearance now haunt her, along with Renee’s passing and Abigail missing. She tries to clear those thoughts, but the sharp memories of the battle keep coming back to take its place. Klatzz’s eyes keep staring at her from every shadow near a tree and fades in her mind over and over.

Phantoms of her swinging the saber, cutting the goblins and orcs, won’t stop flickering in her head. She discovers it’s slightly better to have her eyes open because the scenes are too vivid when closed. She finds no peace with all that is happening to her.

Olivia doesn’t have the drive to move. She forces herself to think of something positive, but to no avail. I have no one to go to. No one is waiting for me. She truly feels alone. She wonders if sending Vock on this journey was the right thing to do without telling the others.

A blast of stronger wind blows and the aspen forest roars behind her. The neighing of a horse forces her to turn southward. Deep red banners bearing the mark of Garnet City flap in the wind on flagpoles coming up the hill. Three southern kingdom royal guards wearing highly polished chest plate armor over a deep red leather ride on horseback. Long swords are sheathed, hanging from the saddles. Behind them, two flag bearers ride wearing only brown and deep red leather, one guard is between them and four more royal guards bring up the rear.

Olivia’s unkempt hair twirls in the wind and if tears were left, they would have been blown dry by now. Normally, she would be excited or cautioned by such a sight as they rode up to her, but she is bereaved and detached from others, remaining motionless clinging to the tree.

The first guard stops in front of Olivia while the other two ride past, scanning the area for any threat. The flag bearers stop behind the guard as the four others create an arc around them. Olivia watches each and every one but does not move. The center rider dismounts the horse. They walk around the guards’ horses and lower the cloak hood.

Queen Pemba smiles. “Olivia…I have been looking for you…” She realizes something is wrong with her at second glance. She reaches for Olivia’s hands, but Olivia stands there with a worried blank stare. Pemba forces Olivia’s hand away from the tree and into hers. Pemba’s gaze darts back and forth into Olivia’s swollen, hollowed eyes.

“What is it, child?”

Olivia’s eyes open wider, glaring at the guard on horseback. Her fearful stare focuses on the soldier’s sword. Images of the battle and seeing the soldiers fall overcome her. Screams of the battle resound in her mind. She can hear Klatzz saying I’m coming for you. An anger builds inside that she can’t control, and she screams loudly, “No, Stop it! Just stop it!” She rips her hand from the queen and the horses kick, rearing, catching the riders off guard as they fall to the ground.

The closer guard leaps off his horse with a sword drawn, landing in front of the queen. All Olivia sees is Klatzz coming at her. She reaches for the saber that was not there. The guard points the sword at her, but before he can say anything, a thunderous crash happens behind them. They all turn to see the chimera towering over them as it growls.

Olivia grabs the sword blade with both palms, twisting it from the man’s hand. She swings it around, cutting her hand in the process. The pommel impacts the man’s head, knocking him to the ground. Olivia sees Klatzz laying there with those bulging eyes and evil grin. She holds the sword to his chest and pushes. “I am not nothing! I am somebody!” She furiously screams at him. “I bested you!”

Her heart is racing, and she breathes heavily when she hears a soft voice. “Olivia, dear…”

The image of Klatzz fades and there is the terrified guard with the sword blade stuck in his chest armor, but not his body. A gentle ebony hand covers Olivia’s hand, causing her to loosen the grip on the sword.

“I…Imene?” Olivia whispers as she looks around in confusion at all the guards.

Queen Pemba has seen this look before and orders all the guards to put away their weapons and wait down the hill. She guides a shaking Olivia past the chimera and through their front door. Olivia disconnectedly walks along with her. Once at the entrance, the door closes with a clank of the iron handle.

The smell of home shakes a few thoughts loose, and those pale green eyes look at Imene. Her voice crackles when she speaks. “What is wrong with me?”

Imene does a half smile. “My son…Trajan, explained all what happened…That is horrible for anyone to witness, much less do.”

Olivia’s lips quiver, and she does not speak.

“It’s time to let it out.” She pulls her in to hold her tight. “Not just the battle…But for your parents and friend too.”

As the guards stand near the house, they hear a loud breakdown cry come from within.

*****

Klinksly mopes through his treedoor spell forest, stopping before a large oak tree. He frowns at a paper sign on the tree that reads Florin Hills. He thinks back to when he first opened his treedoor and placed the parchment there almost a hundred and twenty years ago. Klinksly tries to straighten the ruffled edges, but they crumble.

He opens the treedoor to peek outside. The day is cool and misty, with an overcast of gray clouds. A few yards downhill is a well-traveled dirt road that leads to the northern part of the Eastern Provinces. There is no one around. Klinksly steps onto the wet grasses and cautiously enters onto the road.

He strolls along, holding Skeel’s sword by the scabbard. On the right side of the road, he notices the area he used to play as a young gnome. The memories of the rocks they would climb on and hide behind chasing each other bring him happiness. On the left of the road, the hillside climbs steep, covered with mountain pines and evergreens.

Klinksly walks alone through the mist and an occasional light rain. He reaches a fork in the road with a crooked sign that’s leaning. He pulls the sign upright, supporting it with a few large rocks at its base. A small grin forms as he reads the sign pointing home to the small village of Galdorbell. He starts the long steady uphill walk.

The thwacking of an ax splintering the mid-fall wood echoes down the hill. The smell of baked bread overcomes the earthy wetness in the air. Klinksly approaches the entrance to Galdorbell, a large horseshoe-shaped hill covered with birch, beech, and pine trees along with forest shrubs. The leaves have fallen from most but the evergreens. The mist still hides the gnomes’ small houses made of wood and stone.

As he walks through the center of the village, most gnomes that are outside pay no attention to him. Klinksly walks with a smile under his beard and winks, waving at a few gnomes that bother to look at him. Two houses had repairs done to them and one burned down not too long ago. Others remain the same since the last time he was here two years ago.

He makes it to the base of the center hill and pauses, glancing back at the peacefulness of it all in the rain. The wet leaves give off a muted crunch as he walks the footpath uphill. Fewer houses are up this way and more beech trees take their place. The footpath becomes less traveled as Klinksly comes across a perfect square wood house, painted green.

Well-trimmed plants and shrubs decorate the outside. Butterfly wind chimes tinkle in the slight, cool breeze. Small puffs of smoke rise out of the stone chimney. A brown fence covered in ivy vines protects the now-picked garden vegetables that have been jarred for the winter.

An old bald gnome sitting on a bench, wearing green overalls and enjoying cherry pipe tobacco, squints at Klinksly. “Find time to visit, did we, Mr. Busy Gnome?”

Klinksly stares at him then smiles from ear to ear. “I still don’t miss the sarcasm…But it is welcomed also, Burbel.” He walks past him uphill.

“Sarcasm? I meant no such thing.” He takes a puff and chuckles. “Your garden needs tending…That happens when you aren’t around, you know.”

Klinksly smirks, slightly nodding his head, then stops when he sees his home, a round wooden house about twenty feet in diameter, standing fifteen feet high. It has one door with a small, yellow stained-glass window in it. The second-floor window has brown shutters that are closed. The roof is the main attraction. A giant, pale, tan and brown mushroom comes to a rounded point at the top and the edges slump over the top of the wall. Shades of green moss cover parts of the roof, but mainly the bottom and sides.

Long dead vines twist and hang on a crooked fence that has seen better days. Once thriving tomato and squash plants have been replaced with weeds that overtook them some time ago. Klinksly steps onto the flat gray stones that take him to his door. His foot taps a small wooden figure.

“Ah…My garden humans.”

He always enjoyed the comical expressions of these small, six-inch-tall, carved statues. The sentimental gnome picks a few out of the weeds, brushes them off, and sets them on his windowsill. The door hinges creak from not being used. Musty air and sparkling dust greet Klinksly.

Open and closed books litter the small table to the left beside the hutch that contains pots and dishes covered in dust. To the right is his favorite lounge chair and pillow. In the far back of the one-room house is the cold fireplace and kitchen. Beside the chair is a ladder going up to the open-floor bedroom.

Klinksly collects some kindling and lights the fireplace. He lays his jacket and leather on the table and flops his boots at the edge of the fireplace. He hangs the sword above the fireplace mantel and steps back, staring at it with his hands on his hips. His eyes moisten, but not from thoughts of the battle. He weeps for Olivia.

*****

Vock takes one last look at Seòladair Port in the distance. He was left alone at the docks at five-years-old and grew up with the aid of a few sailors and shopkeepers he helped. The old man at Traders Wharf passed away last year. He remembers as a child, sneaking into the store to grab small bits of food and stay dry on cold, rainy days. As time went by, the old man knew he was in there and made arrangements for him to help in the store, in return for sleeping there.

He would teach Vock how to read and write, learn value in goods and how to make a profit, and how to treat people with respect and help the less fortunate. Even though the old man would often tease him, “There is no one less fortunate than you.”

“No, old man…I was blessed to have known you,” he responds to that thought.

Sailors would hire him as a young boy to clean parts of their ship that were too tight for them to fit in. Some of them teased him and others taught him how to fight back. As he grew up, he was shown how sailing ships worked, taught how to listen to the weather, and even went on a few fishing trips. Some were day trips and others lasted four or five days long.

A few of the sailors and fishermen he knew never came back. This bothered him, so he stayed in town instead of going to sea. Due to his sense of standing up to those that bully the less fortunate, Vock was often blamed for the mischievous doings of others by the town guards as the bullies would run away before they got there. This would cause Vock some mental difficulty dealing with being blamed for something he didn’t start.

A girl, Clara, he had a friendship with has left on a voyage with her family to another land across the Magelic Ocean. Now there is nothing left for him back home, if it was a home. No friends or relatives hold him back from leaving. The dreams he had about the lady in green encouraging him to leave finally came to light. He wonders what purpose he has and what lies ahead?

He reads the name on the parchment before he curls it up and places it in his shirt pocket. He throws the brown leather backpack over his one shoulder and slings a pair of shoes over the other one. His two fighting sticks he uses during training are wedged between his belt. The wet sand rubs between his toes as he walks along the cool beach. The ocean water is warmer than the air and rain when the tips of what is left of a wave overcome his feet.

“Con Del Mal…Let’s find out what you are.”

The crashing waves are like music to his ears as he walks along the lonely beach. That is how he likes it. It allows him to think. Con Del Mal, is it a place or a person? Or is it a secret word to some treasure?

Vock travels for hours along the beach while the storm front takes its time moving out to sea. Sometimes there is steady rain and at other times nothing but wind. The sandy beach inclines as the occasional rocks that protrude cause the waves to shorten their reach. Grasses take over the steep sand banks. Beach pines and twisted-branch pine trees creep closer to the shore. The squawking of seagulls becomes more prominent as he walks to the trees.

He discovers an area of dry ground covered with pine needles to take a break. Using his backpack as a pillow, Vock relaxes, looking at the note again. The wind whistles and roars through the pine needles when the breeze blows stronger. The parchment flips back and forth in his hand, so he pulls a book from his pack. He places it between pages in a book he was reading about different cultures of the north.

Vock is traveling south to Sables Berth. Even though it will take three days by foot, he always wanted to visit and now he has an excuse to do so. Supposedly, it has better shops. He reaches in his pack to count the coins he has. Twenty gold, thirteen silver, and forty-one coppers. He hopes to get better clothing there. Rays of the setting sun break through a few cracks in the clouds.

Vock sets off again, walking farther from the shore this time. The pine trees come and go along the shore, but the grasses remain everywhere. Little bugs dart around him as he rustles the grasses. The moist sand sticks to his feet and bottom of his pants. Two hours go by and the light is fading as he looks into the sky. At least the clouds are moving out, he says to himself.

A larger gray rock formation is ahead of him. Grasses, mosses, and weeds grow out of the cracks and around it. Vock jumps and stretches his legs across the rock, climbing it. What he sees causes him to slump his shoulders and exhale. Rolling ocean waves enter a large bay that has stopped his walk.

The bay is too wide for Vock to swim across, as he can hardly see the other side. Standing on the highest rock, which is only five feet high above the pine covered sand, he glances out into the ocean. In front of him, the steep angle of sand gives way to large rocks that the water splashes against with the current moving inland. His eyes follow the current and in the distance, a marshland and more ocean pines grow. He determines that going around the bay may add a day or two to his walk, as he is not familiar with this part of the water.

The bay sparkles as if it is ablaze, and the trees’ silhouettes become visible against the red of the setting sun. The orange sky fades into turquoise and blues of the night. Vock takes a deep breath and finds a twisted pine that offers some protection from the night sky. He pulls out a small dull green blanket that was neatly folded in his backpack. He lays it over the pine needles and uses his pack as a pillow.

Feeling tired from the walk, he enjoys some salted beef jerky and water before sleeping. His thoughts of what tomorrow would bring keep him awake. What does the note mean? Who is Olivia and what does she need with me? he thinks. This is a pleasant change in life, for I have nothing holding me back now. The sand fleas and mosquitos begin their battle over his feet, but he knows a minor trick by burying them in the sand. He eventually falls asleep listening to the waves splash on the rocks and shore.

He is sound asleep when he feels a slight pinching and tugging at his leg. The pain intensifies and his eyes open quickly as the sun has risen to midmorning already. Vock is ripped from his blanket and lifted high into the air. His hand grabs the blanket as sand flies everywhere. He screams from the pain near his ankle.

A bluish white exoskeleton claw with red tips and what looks like tannish white teeth in them snaps at his blanket. The claw is almost as big as Vock. They tug back and forth before he pulls the blanket from its grasp, hanging upside down. He looks below him at this green, brown shell with two black beady eyes on stalks looking back at him. The shell is easily fifteen feet across, with sharp spikes on the end.

“A crab! Look at the size of that mot—” He screams in pain as it whips him to the ground. But he breaks free from the claw and backs up to a tree as the other claw comes in at him. Vock pulls on a tree limb and the claw impacts and splinters parts of it. He reaches for his two practice sticks as the other claw comes at him. Vock quickly jams the stick into the claw and twists it to the side.

Out in the bay, three fishermen are in their boat pulling up crab traps. They hear a scream coming from the shore. The taller of the three is holding a crab trap he just pulled up. They look at the small, five-inch-wide crab and then at the shore.

“To the shore!” he says while tossing the crab trap back into the water. The three of them row the longboat as fast as they can.

The crab squeezes the sticks, cracking them into splinters. Vock kicks the claw away as the other one grasps around his waist, pulling him back from under the tree. Using his foot, he scoops up his blanket and grabs it with his hands. He tosses it over the giant crab’s eyes, then tries to pry the claw apart but is too weak. The crab removes the blanket with the other claw. Vock’s feet get close to the sand and all he can think of is kicking sand at it.

The crab’s eyes close and its eye stalks retreat from the sand. This allows Vock to pry apart the claw. He falls on his back and crawls back to the tree. Before he can get up to run, the crab launches forward at him. The already fractured branches break apart from the tree as the crab swipes its massive claws back and forth to grab its next meal. Vock’s back is against the sand and tree trunk. He grabs a fallen branch and jams it into the claw. It clamps shut, but the branch doesn’t break.

The three fishermen eagerly jump out of the boat and rush onto the shore. “Eric! Grab the left claw with the hook! Bobby! Grab the mallet and I will get the right claw!” says the tall man.

“You got it, Hank!” Bobby, the smaller of the three, says.

Vock kicks the claw, and it pulls itself back. A metal hook latches around the opening of the claw. He recognizes it as another large fisherman’s gaff catches the right claw. The crab claws get pulled back away from him. The smaller man screams, climbing up the back of the crab with a huge wooden mallet for knocking fish out when in the boat. But before he can swing it, the crab twists around to face them with its claws, dragging the two men with it. Bobby slips, falls from the crab, and is trampled.

The hammer flips in the air, landing in front of Vock. Hank and Eric wrestle with the claws, which start dragging them back and forth. Bobby is stepped on a few times, rolling underneath the crab. The crab snaps Eric’s hook and Hank loses his grip as the crab pulls it away with a tug. The giant crab halts for a second, deciding which one to go after when Vock leaps into the air and swings the mallet down, impacting the left eyestalk of the crab, stunning it.

Vock remains standing on top of the shell. He swings the hammer down on the right eye. With several other mighty swings between the eyes, he cracks the shell and kills the giant crab. Bobby rolls out from underneath in time as it collapses on the sand. Hank and Eric watch in awe of Vock standing on top of the crab. His long blonde hair flows in the wind as he breathes heavily, eyebrows furrowed while he thinks about what just happened. He casually tosses the mallet beside Bobby.

“Wow, we came to save you…And you saved us,” Hank says.

Vock slides off the crab to retrieve his blanket. This was the first time he fought something besides a human. Thoughts of what he could have done differently go through his mind. He shakes the sand off the blanket and folds it neatly to put it back into the backpack.

Bobby walks around the crab to him. “You swung the mallet like you knew how. Who are you?”

Vock sees these men are slightly older than he is while he gathers his things. “Vock, and I’ve been on a few fishing boats.”

“Shoes…Where’s your shoes?” Bobby asks.

“That’s not polite to ask about one’s shoes,” Eric says.

Bobby talks loud and like a smarty pants. “Well, he ain’t wearing any.”

Hank walks around the crab to see Vock as well. “We heard you scream from out in the bay. What happened?”

“I was sleeping and next thing I knew, I was fighting this giant crab. I didn’t know they could get this big.”

“We thought we saw a huge crab before but couldn’t prove it,” Hank says.

“See, I told you it was real. It will be a good feast tonight,” Bobby says. He pesters Vock for more answers. “Why you out here sleepin? Did your boat sink in the storm? Did you abandon ship? Where are the others?”

“Bobby! Now stop it. That is rude, not letting the young boy answer before asking another question,” Eric says.

“Aw. I just want to know, that’s all.”

Vock puts his backpack on and shoes over his shoulder. “I’m traveling south, and it looks like I got a few day’s journey to get around this bay. So, if you will excuse me.”

“Traveling…? South…? You will have more than a few days to get around this bay.” Bobby points westward. “There are salt marshes as far as you can see. Good fishing grounds, though. And freshwater rivers that you can’t cross. It will take you about eight or ten days to walk around.”

“I have an idea, Vock,” Hank says, rubbing his head. You help us get this crab on the boat and back to our house. We can give you a ride to the other side of the bay,” Hank says.

Vock looks at the little longboat. His one eye squints and questions the safety of it. “Row that boat across the bay? You are kidding, right?”

“No. Of course not. In the Windy Mae,” Eric says, pointing inland along the bay.

Vock steps to the water’s edge and looks farther down the shoreline of the bay. In the distance, there is a house built along the shoreline with a dock going into the bay. Anchored to it is a blue hulled schooner. Its sails are neatly furled and ropes in all the right places. Crab baskets sit along the dock along with fishnets. A green flag with an orange crab and mallet across it flies from the first mast.

“Huh.”

Bobby stands beside him. “Yeah…Now that’s a ship, ain’t it?” He gives Vock a playful elbow in the side.

Vock looks across the bay, then again at the schooner and back at the crab. Hank and Eric are having trouble moving the claw by themselves. Memories of a younger Vock working on the fish cleaning docks come across his mind. He is being shown how to descale a fish, debone it and filet it with a minimal loss of flesh and quickness for the customer. Vock looks up to this man as a father figure for years. He was one of those lost at sea. He snaps himself out of the hurtful memory.

“Yes. I will help you.”

The four of them snap, cut, and chop the crab legs off and set them into the longboat. They struggle with the body but manage to get it on the boat. With little room left in the boat, Hank and Bobby paddle the boat to the docks while Vock and Eric walk along the shore.

Vock spends the rest of the day helping cook the giant crab and pull the meat from within. They have small talk, with mostly Bobby telling fishing stories and of spotting the giant crustacean. It is close to evening so the men let Vock sleep in the house overnight and in the morning they will take him across the bay. With a belly full of crab, the most Vock has eaten in a long time, he falls asleep on the couch.

*****

The morning sunlight and slapping of small waves against the rocks wakes Vock. It takes him a moment to think where he is at. Hank stops in front of him.

“We didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so deep. Looks like you needed it.”

Vock nods, knowing he did. Hank points out the open door to show the boat is ready. They even made him some meals of crab rolls, small little cakes of flavored crab, and bread for his journey. They climb aboard the Windy Mae with Bobby and Eric using poles to push away from the dock. A slight easterly morning breeze makes the sailing journey easier.

Vock leans against the side railing, staring into the greenish blue water. At first, in the shallow depths, he can see the sea grass, small fish, and crabs scuttle along the sandy bottom. It soon turns into a darker blue and he can no longer see the bottom. The wake from the schooner becomes more prominent as both sails are now fully unfurled and catch the breeze.

The ship’s movement becomes peaceful with the up and down motion going over the small one to two-foot waves of the bay. The spray of the cool bay water kisses Vock’s face. He closes his eyes and remembers his first time at sea at ten years old. How a sailor taught him to climb the mast and to tie knots for the sails. When work was done and no wind, how they would jump from the ship to swim in the ocean.

He opens his eyes and there in the waves, just beneath the surface, is a dolphin swimming. The first time he saw one was when he jumped into the ocean from the boat. He hit the water and sank below the surface. He opened his eyes and was amazed at the teal blue of the ocean. A dark gray form was getting closer, and he heard the men screaming to get out. A shark was slowly approaching him. Little Vock just floated and didn’t move. The shark was getting closer when a dolphin came up from the depths which caused the shark to swim away slowly.

The dolphin circled him a few times and their eyes met, until a metal hook on a long pole came from above, grabbed Vock, and hoisted him out of the water. He never told the sailors of the dolphin.

Soon they make it where the bay meets the ocean on the other side. For miles are long flat sandy beaches beyond the rocks that start the bay entrance. Vock thanks them and climbs the rocks. He watches Bobby wave at him as they turn the schooner and sail away.

The ocean waves are crashing along the beach as if they had a hatred for sand today. He looks across the bay from where he came. He has nothing to go back to but is a little sad he is leaving. Thoughts of him getting blamed for things he did not do as a child come to mind. The bullies that always were after him. He grins because he was always one step ahead of them. Sad thoughts of the old man cross his mind again.

He looks southward to his new life. “Today it begins, I guess.”

Vock walks off the rocks and stays closer to the ocean pines and grasses. He drops his backpack and shoes at the same time. They land with a shallow thump. A sound that sand should not make grabs his attention. Vock’s eyebrows raise, and he moves his pack with his foot. His foot catches on a large iron ring a few inches across sticking out of the sand. He bends down, using his hands to wipe the sand and pine needles away. He looks up and around quickly and then back at a wooden door in the sand. Vock pulls on the ring and a small hatch opens up with carved stone stairs going down into darkness.

“I guess it does begin today.”