Before the Sky Fell

[ 11 ] The Drop

-11-

The Drop

Eight years later, Sebolt

The horizon was clear again today. No fleet of ships approached the coastline and storm clouds weren't rolling in to threaten the fire buoys, though Whik had seen a pod of dolphins come dangerously close to the floating objects that bobbed among the waves. He dangled his legs over the ledge of the outpost and curiously watched Carter, who pecked at his breakfast in the grass below. The tail of the mouse wiggled in wide circles as Carter ripped it open and spat out its fur. Lana just watched the falcon eat as she chewed on the grass, testing the limits of her tether.

Whik would never forget the day Marg led him into the stable and revealed the brown-coated mare that he would call his own. Lana and Carter grew up with him in Tannuchi. Whether out of jealousy or boredom, Carter would often swoop down and peck at Lana's mane. He had to keep the two separate when he was watching the coast, but they'd always find a way back to one another and cause trouble.

Whik's legs, which once featured torn and tattered pants as a child, were now lined with muscled shins, muddy breeches, and a pouch full of fernwillow buds. A thin layer of facial hair agitated his jawline. Blond strands fell over his eyes. Yet eight years had not taken away the youthful wonder and intrigue that he had felt when the mist cleared and unveiled the shores of Sebolt. He got the same feeling, of excitement and of marvel, when he stared out into the ocean and imagined seeing the island for the first time as a boy.

The sun had burnt Whik again today from hours of sitting in the wooden tower and watching the fire buoys for any sign of light. His lips felt coarse and flaky as he ran his finger around them, picking at the chapped skin. He cursed himself for not listening to Charlotte when she told him the cream of the lassidwater flower would do wonders for chapped lips.

The planks of the outpost were marked with countless tallies and the day the counts ended would be the day peace ended for Sebolt. The town guard had set up rotations for the scouts. Whik always chose the morning hours so he could do what he wished with the rest of his day. The task was simple enough; he was to sit in the outpost until midday and watch with squinted eyes for any flames on the horizon. If a ship approached the shore, the guard in the dinghy would light the fire buoy and signal Whik to pull a rope with all his might. The tug would send vibrations down the suspended rope that ran through the forest, ringing dozens of alarm bells scattered from the cliff to Tannuchi's main guard post.

The alarm had sounded only once, when Carl Fisher thought he saw a ship, but instead it was a wandering school of silver-scaled fish. He would never live the mistake down. Whenever the children of the town passed him, they puckered their lips and flapped their arms like a fish. Carl would just shake his head and walk to the tavern for a much-needed pint. Whik would never join in the bullying. He knew all too well what that felt like.

He was thankful to hear the crunching of leaves and the humming of Halloh Baker behind him. The young man rode through the forest with his steed to relieve Whik of his duty. "It's a hot one today," Halloh shouted as he approached the outpost.

Whik climbed down the ladder, took one last stare at the horizon, and considered his job done. "It sure is," he told Halloh, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

"Anything good this morning?"

"The usual. The most exciting thing was when Carter chased a mouse right off the cliff side, then swooped down in time and snatched it up."

"Damn," Halloh said, dropping his satchel near the ladder. "If that bird isn't remarkable, I don't know what is. Have you trained him to fetch you a pipe yet? I'm sure he could scout out enough fernwillow buds to make you see a dozen fleets on the horizon."