It is said, in some cultures, that only two things are certain: death and taxes. To a Weldoxian, however, there are three: death, friends, and taxes. In many lands on Sandrylene's world, friends are among the most valued and treasured possessions one may have.
Usually, each person only attains one true friend. The 'true friend' is one who will sacrifice himself to save his comrades. He is one who will do anything to please his cohorts. He will put his friends above himself in almost all situations. However, when a true friend dies, it is a time of heavy lightness. It is a wonderful thing to be considered a true friend, but it is also a terrible thing to lose one. Thus, a funeral for one of such remark is a difficult one. It must celebrate the true friend's life and status, but also mourn his passing.
Nature tends to make certain that each person only ever has one to call his true friend. Under most normal circumstances, if one has two true friends, the more noble (or ready to die) of the two will perish, leaving the other two to mourn and celebrate at the same time. It is unknown why this phenomenom occurs, but it does. It is also under heavy debate as to whether it is better to mourn alone or with another.
"Ho! Sandrylene!" Clar shouts, seeing the girl and the Kailan return. He and Tren are the only ones that remain in the clearing now.
"Hail and well met, Clar! Tren!" Sandry calls back. She still cradles the egg. She waits patiently as the two young men make their ways to her sides.
Clar carefully takes the egg from her arms. He runs a hand over the blue, spotted shell. "She's beautiful," he states in quiet reverence.
"Not quite as beautiful as your eyes," Sandry retorts.
Clar is so shocked that he nearly drops the egg. Quickly but gently, Tren takes it from his friend's arms. He sits with it to avoid the chance of dropping it himself.
Sandry kisses a fingertip and lights it upon Clar's lips. The boy blinks and draws Sandry into his arms, chuckling. "And my eyes are nowhere near as lovely as yours," he finally replies.
After a moment, the pair separates and blinks. Tren is stroking the egg silently, remarking in its soothing qualities. He takes the separation of the pair as a signal and rises. "Ready, then?" he inquires.
The other two nod. They bid the Kailan fare-well and walk towards the portal. Tren is the second to step through and is very careful not to drop the egg.
The three find themselves back in Indyana's cabin soon enough. They need to ask her of the nearest port, and thusly, they find themselves waiting for the woman. Two hours later, she returns, exhausted.
Tren inquires of her the location of the nearest port through which they can gain supplies.
"There's an archipelago three days' sail to the west, but not many ports upon it," Indyana replies.
"Not many? What's the biggest one?" Clar queries.
"The largest island contains the largest port. The port is directly west of the Refuge. It's probably your best bet. Both the island and the town are called Prosp. From what I hear, it is similar to your homeland, Sandrylene. You'll most likely feel quite acclimated to the region."
"Much obliged, Indyana. You've been a wonderful help to us. Thank you again for your assistance in repairing the boat. We appreciate that and that you allowed us to use the Obsidian Sea Caves as a harbor for the Majestic. Without you, we would have likely been doomed," Sandry adds, bowing her head. "And now, we bid thee adieu." She grins, takes the egg from Tren so that he might give their host a lavish bow and waves good-bye. Clar nods as well and mutters an extra "thank you."
"No problem, you guys. I look forward to seeing you when the Shantel comes up. Good luck with the egg!" Indyana calls as the trio exits through the portal to the Obsidian Sea.
"Farewell, friend Richard!" Tren calls as the Majestic catches the wind and begins to sail out to sea.
*You also, friend Tren! We shall meet again, you and I!* he calls back. *Good luck on your journey and may happiness find you always!*
"Goodbye!"
*Good bye! Safe voyage!*
"Due west, Indyana said, correct?" Sandry inquires as she adjusts the telescope accordingly.
"Indeed, Sandry," Clar replies.
"Clear sailing. All you have to do is catch the wind." She smiles and pockets the spy-glass. She strides over to Tren and Clar, the former playing his flute, the latter holding the egg. "I still don't know what to name her," Sandry sighs.
"Perhaps something that reflects her personality when she emerges?" Clar suggests.
"I don't know. I almost want to pick out a name now, but then again I don't. I don't know why at all."
"I think you should wait, too, Sandrylene," Tren adds, his song ending. He reaches out and strokes the egg. "Or perhaps something terrible will happen that will give you a name. Some dark fate surrounds this egg." His voice is no longer light and cheerful, but rather dark and ominous.
"Tren, stop putting me on. There's no such thing as fate."
"Believe what you want. I think this entire journey is by some terrible fate of which we're all a part." Tren shrugs and sighs. He rises and pockets his flute. Striding over to the bow of the ship, he glares out over the sea, his ancestral home. "I still say something bad will come of this."
"Tren, stop. Please. Nothing bad will come of our friendships. There is naught about which to worry. Don't get all upset. It will be okay," Sandry replies, concern seeping into her voice. Silently, she takes the egg back from Clar and cradles it. She refuses to move until nightfall when she and the egg fall asleep together.
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