Prosp...

"Lower the anchor, Tren!" Clar calls happily. The Majestic pulls into the docks of Prosp with ease. The sun is shining and warm on his tanning skin. He is clamboring about the masts raising the sails and securing them there. Glancing down, he sees Sandrylene and the mutant egg which she earned at the Bishen Realm sitting on the deck.

Tren, who does as he is instructed, also glances at Sandry. The Weldoxian girl is cradling the egg and singing to it. She is doing so very quietly so neither of her companions can hear her words and mock her. She strokes the egg and mentally runs through a list of names for the dragon within. None seem to fit well enough.

The two boys finish their duties and walk over to her, blocking out her sunlight. They assume similar poses by placing their hands on their hips and grinning down at her. Clar shakes his head piteously.

"I vote we force her to sing in public," Tren states.

"I vote we throw her overboard. She didn't help bring in the ship," Clar retorts playfully.

"I vote we do neither because she was sitting here watching the egg. You're just jealous that you didn't get one," Sandry replies, smiling up at both shadowy figures. She strokes the egg lovingly and hands it to Clar. "We have no money," she adds.

"But we have raw talent," Tren replies. "Sandry and I will go to the streets and do what we do best. Clar, do you mind watching the ship and egg?"

"No qualms from me," the boy says with a shrug. "I get little enjoyment from the dance anyways." With a grin he sits down on the deck of the ship next to Sandry. The girl rises and stretches for a moment.

"Let's go, then," she states, grinning. "Good thing I enjoy doing this."

"We won't go far. We'll never be more than three ships'-lengths away. Promise," Tren adds, nodding to his male friend.

"Til sundown, then," Clar replies. He bids them adieu and takes to making certain the egg is clean after the others leave.

Tren's flute fills the slowly-crowding streets. Laughter joins as a second instrument and applause as a third. Both Tren and Sandrylene dance in silence to the rytham of clapping hands before Tren takes his flute to his lips and allows Sandry to have the stage. Every now and then, Sandry wanders through the crowd as Tren plays solo. Thus, they collect money for the next day's purchases.

By sundown, after working with few brakes since noon, the pair returns to the Majestic. Sandry had paused once to run back to the ship to locate a container. Now that container is two-thirds filled. The crowd is gone, now. Both are very tired.

"Welcome back, Sandrylene, Tren," Clar states cheerfully. "Are you two okay? You look dead tired."

"That would be because we are dead tired. You got to sit around and tan all day, so don't even start to complain," Sandry shot. Her eyes were smiling though her voice was cold.

"Wasn't about to, though your egg did start to issue weird taps during the day. I'm not quite certain, but I think it might hatch soon."

Sandry's face lights up with cheer. "Really? Do you think so? It seems so sudden, I mean, after all, I've only been her guardian for three days! Won't it be wonderful when she hatches?" she asks rhetorically, taking the egg from Clar.

"Umm... yeah," Clar replies. The pair hardly know that Tren has departed for his quarters below the deck.

"I wonder what color she'll be..."

"It's just an egg. Get a grip."

"My egg. My ward. My baby, when she hatches that is. You know how terribly difficult it is to be a girl in Weldox. You've seen how we're treated. We can't own property other than our clothes and trinkets. If I had finished my life as a merchant, my husband would have inherited after Daddy died. This is a big step for me. Get off my back."

"Whatever you say, Sandrylene." Clar chuckles to himself and sighs. "Well, I'll go to bed, then. I'll assume I'll be bartering with you tomorrow. We'll let Tren guard the ship?"

"Indeed. Sleep well, Clar."

"You also, Sandrylene."

"I shall. You needn't worry about that."

"Til the morn, then."

"Indeed."

Clar travels down to his quarters below the deck. He falls asleep with relative ease and dreams of a life where he can be with Sandrylene and no one else. It is one of the lasts times of bliss he experiances.

Sandrylene stays out on the ship's deck for some time, feeling the wind caress her face. She holds the egg, trying to feel for any tapping it gives off. After a while, she sits down, stroking the muted blue shell of her ward's capsule. As she does so, she reflects upon her life. She wonders about her relationships with Clar and Tren. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she recalls Tren stating that no good surrounds the egg. She hopes to all the powers that be that he is wrong.

Clar and Sandrylene were awake at the break of day. They arrouse their third companion and eat breakfast together. Quietly they discuss the day's plans.

"Clar and I are going to go out for supplies. Tren, you'll watch the ship, okay?" Sandrylene inquires of the Marian.

"Not a problem. I'll watch your egg, too. She won't hatch without you here, I promise," the blonde replies.

"Good. Anything else that needs to be discussed?"

"Naught save that I want you both to be careful. I really don't like this place," Tren sighs. "The people seem okay, if a tad psycho. They seemed a bit too happy to see us last night, Sandry. You two watch your backs."

"Right, Tren. You too. We don't want the Majestic pilfered, now do we?" Clar adds, his eyes showing he is joking. He trusts his friend entirely and sighs, sensing that neither of the others caught the humor.

Sandry sighs, taking a last swallow of her water. "We'll need fresh water soon, too. We can't wait for another storm. We'll need to find a mainland. If you get bored, Tren, you can use some of my astrological logs to see where we are and where the nearest river is. We'll need it."

"Right. Hurry back, you guys. The sooner we get out of here, the better. I'm getting a major chill today."

"Hope you warm up. Til then." Sandry rises and brushes her black curls from her face. She tosses a small bag of coins to Clar and grabs one for herself. "Let's go."

The docks are strangely empty. Eerie silence follows the pair as they travel from stand to stand, chatting with the natives. The Prospians seem oddly on edge. They seem to be anticipating something that neither of the Weldoxians could know. Today is Saturday.

The stands are well-manned, but the shoppers are few. Sandry writes this off initially as it being too early. After all, it is just after dawn. As the sun rises, however, her doubts begin to increase.

"Clar, where are all the people?" she asks her companion as they purchase a small case of orange rinds. Really, there is no sense of acquring scurvy if it can be avoided. She pays the merchant, thanks him, and continues on her way.

"Sane and asleep," her friend replies. He readjusts a bag of rice on his shoulder. He plods along after Sandry with stiff legs.

"Bend the knees, Clar dear. It makes it easier to walk." Sandrylene chuckles.

The pair purchase ropes, nails, tar, pitch, timber, linens, and foodstuffs as the morning progresses. They make a brief stop at the Majestic to see Tren before setting back out to buy more food and tools. They make their final purchase at noon.

Church bells ring in the distance. They send out a message to all the inhabitants of the town that one of the Holy Days has official begun. Sandrylene and Clar are separated from the Majestic by an entire dock when they hear the crisp, clear notes of the bells.

"Let's hurry back. Tren wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, and now that we're finished, we may as well leave. It's not like this is the number one tourist attraction in this hemisphere," Clar sighs, carrying a load of tools.

Sandry nods before saying, "Something's really not right. It's noon and no one is out here yet."

Clar nods and picks up his pace. An arrow whizzes by Sandry's head. She lets out a yelp.

"They're shooting at us!" she hisses as she joins her companion's pace. "Hurry! We have to get out of here!" Her pulse begins to pound as she carries containers of biscuits and dried fruits at nearly break-neck speeds over the slightly time-buckled pier to the Majestic.

Clar winces with pain as an arrow nicks his arm. He and Sandry take off at a run to get to their ship, their haven. Their legs pump as they attempt to reach it in time. They don't look back, but the arrows keep coming.

A mob of citizens appears on the horizon. It is a little farther from the Majestic than Sandry and Clar are. They are armed with bows and blades. Sandry and Clar only run faster.

The pair races up the gangplank, drop their items, and seek knives. Sandry runs to the galley to gain a blade and finds Tren there. He is pouring over a book by candlelight and eating a dried apple.

"Hoist the anchor. We need to set sail immediately. We're under attack!" Breathlessly, she grabs a carving knife and runs above deck. Once there, she begins to clambor the rigging. She climbs out onto the masts and cuts the ropes holding up the sails.

Clar, meanwhile, hoists the anchor with Tren's assistance and hands the Marian his knife. "Cut the other sail lines," he instructs before running towards the tether to the dock. The mobs and archers are in place now and some are attempting to light their arrows with fire. He swallows hard before sliding down the tethering rope.

As he does so, many of the crowd lets loose their arrows. They miss him, mostly. One sticks into his left leg. As he topples to the deck and the crowd strangely gives him room, he untethers the ship. Sandry has a few of the sails down and they are begining to catch the wind. He grasps the rope and begins to climb up the ship's hull to the deck. However, as he does so, the archers let loose again.

Clar is caught in the side by a dart. Pain shoots through him as he begins to lose blood from the hole. He ignores it, though. As best as he can, anyways. When he finally makes it to the deck, Sandry and Tren have the sails taught and billowing away from the ports of Prosp.

"CLAR!" Sandry shouts as she sees her comrade crumple to the deck. "Are you okay?" She rushes to his side and leans over him. "Tren! Come quickly!"

Tren rushes to the sides of his friends and takes a look at Clar's side. The arrowhead seems to be embedded in the latter's pulminary area. He knows what Sandry wants him to do. "I don't know if I can fix it," he states. "If I were a full-fledged Marian I could without difficulty, but I've only ever healed minor abraisions."

"Please try," Sandry pleads. Tears begin to fill her eyes.

"Let's take him into the galley and on the table. There's less distractions there."

The pair lift their friend with a bit of strain. Sandry tries her hardest to carry his head softly down the stairs to the galley and sighs from exertion when they set him down on the table. Sandry lights candles as Tren removes the arrow.

"Relax, Clar," Tren instructs. "I'll try not to make this hurt."

Clar does as he is told and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath as Tren touches the wound with his hand. The wound begins to seal up nicely until all progress seems to stop. Tren tries his hardest to close the cut, but it is to no avail. Soon he collapses from exhaustion.

"Clar?" Sandry asks, leaning over him. The tears flow as torrents from her eyes. "Clar don't leave me," she whispers as her voice cracks. "You can't leave me. We have our lives to live. You're not going to leave me."

"Sandrylene, I love you," Clar replies. His breathing becomes shallow as he closes his eyes.

"NO!" Sandry wails. "Clar! I... I love you!" She replies as the dark-haired boy expires. "CLAR!" Soon she is sobbing over her dead fellow's chest, the tears still streaming from her eyes. In her sorrow, she can not hear the sound of the egg (which was abandoned in the corner of the galley when Tren left to hoist the anchor) cracking.

"Sandrylene, cheer up. He died to save us," Tren states, trying to cheer his companion. "He would not have liked to see you sad. His spirit rests now, and you have another to cherish. Please, for the sake of Clarinet, move on."

"Why... Why did you name her Clarinet?"

"She hatched when Clar died. The suffix '-inet' is a diminutive that denotes femininity among the Marians. I thought it fit." He holds in his arms a small bluish wyrm.

"TREE!" Clarinet calls. She looks to Sandrylene with sorrowful eyes.

"Yes, for you I shall move on," Sandry replies.

Moving on...

Background by Julianne's Textures.