Being a loser and posting here for the points at the last minute. >_>
The ship was docked and ready; the last of the supplies were being carried on by its passengers, and the wind seemed ready to push them onward. There was excitement among the d’Artisans during these final moments on home ground, excitement for the voyage ahead and the trades that were to be made across the Bay of Fundy, but all of it failed to reach Levent Kartal.
He set his shoulders, staring at the great hull, Wilson standing beside him. The cat glanced a question at him, and the wolf nodded before walking grimly up onto the boat, as if he were walking the plank.
Vasiliy looked chipper about the whole ordeal, of course; this was his brilliant idea in the first place. There was that kestrel up in the rigging, and the dark-furred girl looked dreamy as she stared out to their soon-to-be-route. The whole atmosphere was hopeful and adventurous and Lev thought he would barf.
“Is there anything I can help with?” the Turk asked, swallowing bile that burned his throat on the way back down.
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