"Wait, we're going after the stones, or the Riders, sir?" Pavel asked for clarification. He toddled after Erik's lengthy stride out to the ship's main deck, the crew dodging their captain as they dared not force him to walk around them. As far as Pavel went, it seemed they would purposely shoulder-check Pavel, not caring he was the chief's mate. Or, perhaps it was because they cared too much and pretended not to.
"The stones, you fool," Erik snapped back.
After three long days of sailing back to base, their port had finally come into view. Once they rounded the last frozen rock foundation, a single shout was heard from the shore. Even more, Hunters emerged, shouting orders to make room for the docking ships. Reaching their home base seemed to give the crew a renewed sense of energy, as exciting clamor instantly sprouted up on deck. Erik didn't blame them for being too cold and weak to tie down the sails on the way here. It wasn't as if there was much wind for the sails to be interfered with anyway, for them to be blown too far off course.
The last rations of food and drinkable water had been used up that morning. And all the cages were empty - on top of one missing. Erik heaved a huge sigh, the thick warm cloud of breath swirled up and around his head, dissipating before irritancy caused him to wave it away. Well-put intentions don't matter. Results mattered, and he'd come back with nothing.
Pavel uncontrollably shivered, bundling his clock closer around him. Opposing him, Erik thrived off this glacial wasteland. There was a reason why this was their base. Ice dragons were rare, and dragons preferred warmth over cold. The better they functioned.
Erik wanted a new fleet, more men who actually knew how to fight, and a lot more dragon-proof fortifications and cages. But to get all that, he needed permission first.
He needed to ask the leader.
