(--)
Vasiliy is by me!
Vasiliy was excited -- as excited as he'd been upon setting sail across the vast ocean. The granite-furred wolf had quickly learned the truth of sea-faring journeys; however, these short voyages were still appealing to him. He knew they wouldn't be sailing so far as he'd come in crossing the Atlantic -- by the end of today, in fact, their paws should again touch dry land. An as-yet-unexplored land to Vasiliy, a land with many traders and trade possibilities!
Perhaps most exciting to Vasiliy was that he was helping his pack. The granite-furred wolf had not known how best to contribute to Cercatori d'Arte. He was no warrior, no great hunter, no book-smart writer. He couldn't create, he couldn't do much of anything he thought these wolves would appreciate -- but there was this. The boat was all he could have imagined, just as sturdy and well-built as she looked. The oars would slash the water and send them swift where the wind dropped, but already the silver-gray wolf felt the stirring of the bay's breeze. They would have wind and oars both, perhaps.
The dusky-furred wolf watched Dalgina dash toward the ship, climbing up the narrow gangplank after her bird. Vasiliy did the same, albeit less quickly than the dark she-wolf. He strode onto the deck, looking around with satisfaction. Everything seemed to be in order -- of course, they must run over the ship a last time before departing, but at least everything looked good. You are ready to see water dance with boat, eh, Dalgina? he called, grinning as he remembered the way she'd described the action of wave against ship.
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