By Paw and Sail

Chapter 10: The Book Room [Trais]

Zix stood on his toes as he held the flint box up to the lantern. The steel tab grated against the stone as he spun the wheel. It took a few tries before the sparks struck the oil-soaked wick. He lowered the glass case back over the small flame before hopping down from the step ladder.

He squinted as bright light assaulted his eyes. The room had descended into darkness as the sun set over the last hour. It was night now, and a few bold stars were already visible through the round window above.

“Better?” Zix said.

Torqe nodded as she flipped aimlessly through the pages of a thick tome. Plants weren’t her favorite subject, but it was one of the few books with lots of pictures. She could only understand a few of the words in the descriptions. The drawings were pretty though.

“Shouldn’t we wake him up?” she said. “He’s been sleeping for hours.”

“Nah, just leave him be. He’ll wake up when he’s ready.”

The otter crossed her forearms on the table and laid her head down. She closed her eyes and focused on the gentle sway of the ship as it rode the currents. They had picked up speed thanks to a favorable wind, and the sea was relatively calm.

“Give up already?” Zix said.

“No, I’m just taking a break,” Torqe said. “These cat words are all so weird and confusing.”

“They aren’t that bad. You can speak Vossta just fine, so it won’t be that hard to learn how to read it.”

“It took me forever just to read Luteta, and there’s like… less than half as many marks.”

“No one writes anything in Luteta, except for a few songs and awful poems. Vossta is the most important language to know. Almost every book in this room is written in it, along with most books everywhere.”

“I know… It’s just a pain. I mean, I don’t really need to read to sail, ya know?”

“You should know the basics, at least.”

The otter tilted her head to the side and glared at Zix. The mouse narrowed his eyes in response and pointed at the book.

“Don’t sleep on that,” he said. “It’s fragile and the binding might break.”

“Your binding might break.”

Zix sighed in resignation. He grabbed the corner of the book and pulled it out from under her. Torqe’s elbows struck the table with a loud thud as he freed the tome.

“That was rude.”

“Nope.”

Both animals turned at the sound of rustling from the corner of the room. The mound of blankets shifted as Trais stirred.

“You woke him up!” she whispered.

“No I didn’t,” Zix said. “It’s time for him to get up anyway.”

“You just said—“

A loud yawn from the corner interrupted her indignant rebuttal. Trais sat up on the wide cushion and pulled the blanket from his head. He ran his claws along the back of his head and neck as he looked around the room.

“Hello!” Torqe said. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better,” Trais said. “Thanks, er…”

“Torqe.”

“Thanks, Torqe,” he said. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t catch it earlier.”

“It’s okay.”