The Nomad's Book

Chapter 435 - Thunderhead Islands

It was quite a climb, but Nomad had to say it was worth it. From the top of the island, the entire horizon was displayed to him. This world had a beautiful sea – layers of blue from near white to tones as dark as midnight colored the waters in swathes of beauty out of a painting. Amongst the rolling waves, small specks of green rose from the sea, and Nomad could barely glimpse villages on them.

But this island was his favorite. A few hundred meters beneath the tall outcropping he lay upon, a small collection of stone bungalows were scattered across the rocky slopes of the island. They stretched from the foot of the mountain Nomad had traversed to the edge of the grassy cliffs, which then spiraled vertically down into the frothing waves below.

The wind roared across the sea, carrying the scent of moss and salt. The frail vegetation that had managed to grow bowed and swayed in the gusts – Nomad's book almost flew off into the wind as well, had he not been able to grab it.

As he began his descent, Nomad noticed with interest that the withered shrubs released droves of tiny seeds in the wind. He plucked a pod from the nearest bush and examined it. It was compact and light, and he fiddled with it as he clambered down the slopes to the village.

There were inhabitants of these huts, but he rarely saw them. Occasionally he glimpsed small robed figures scurrying from home to home, but whenever he came close, they closed the doors and pretended he wasn't there. A bit rude, but then again, he wasn't particularily social either.

Wanderlust was parked on a flat stone outcropping near the top of the village. There were several of these large, flat boulders sticking out from the island. Nomad suspected that there might have been other ships here once – these rocks served awfully well as landing pads. But then again, maybe not.

Nomad noticed storm clouds gathering as he passed through the village. He had heard bad things about the weather here – as in that there were a lot of storms, which other beings apparently didn't enjoy. Nomad thought storms were spectacularly cozy, and so he looked forward to this one.

He did have to make preparations first. He moved Wanderlust a little along, so it was positioned along the side of the platform instead of the middle. The right wing extended to the center of the outcropping, where Nomad began to collect rocks to make a fire. Once he had finished that, he fiddled with the wing flaps of the ship until he managed to get the seethrough tarp down.

The transparent plastic canvas came down from the curved sides of the wing, creating a semicircled clear wall with the wing acting as a roof. Nomad rather liked this new addition to Wanderlust, which he had bought on Topos several days before. He attached the bottom of the canvas to the stone with little hooks, and his tent was complete.

He then clambered the rope ladder into his ship, collecting several items from the storage compartment. Tinder was good, and he had plenty of it. He got some tins of food and a pan, as well as a sleeping bag. These items he placed around the campfire. Now for dinner.

Those storm clouds were getting close, and they were making Nomad a bit worried. He increased his speed to a trot through the downtown huts to a lower outcropping, where he had set up a fishing net in the morning. Encyclopedia Planetaria had said good things about the seafood on this world, if you were willing to wait for it.

Nomad hauled the rope up in a bit of a rush. Lightning sounded throughout the island as he hoisted the box up and examined its contents – a plump, eel-like creature flopped around, as well as three smaller crustaceans. He recognised these from the Encyclopedia as well – tithtails and redcraws. Tithtails were supposed to be savory and a bit gamey, but redcraws were delicious – he had them before, on other worlds. He theorised fishers came here sometimes, or maybe traded with the locals. Maybe he'd see one of these fishers before he left.

It was really starting to come down. In addition to roaring thunder, crackling lightning and a dense rain, a fog had rolled in and obscured the labyrinthian pathways of the stone village. Nomad was carrying his dinner over his shoulder, trying to recall the path to his ship. He reached up and flicked the lights on his helmet on.

"Scrawk?" squeaked a small voice from below. Nomad stopped in his tracks and glanced down. A small creature was huddled in the stone steps, looking soaked and absolutely miserable.

Nomad crouched to examine it. It was scaly, with webbed talons and scrawny membranes around its neck and tail. It looked amphibious, since it had gills on its underbelly. It was a grey-blue color, and its eyes were watery and offwhite. It squeaked again and huddled under Nomad's foot.

"Hello," Nomad said gently to it. It didn't look carnivorous, but you never knew. "Are you lost?"

"Grrrwarblewarblegrar," answered the creature, which was stupendously helpful.

"You look miserable," observed Nomad. After a pause, he added, "Why don't you come with me? I've got a campfire going."

The creature didn't object, so Nomad picked it up. With some outraged noises, it scrabbled up his arm and wrapped itself around his shoulder. It was quite tickly, but Nomad managed not to laugh.

After a short while, Nomad saw the Wanderlust up ahead. He unzipped the doorway and the lizard creature slithered in, hissing with delight when it saw the campfire. Nomad shook himself dry and sat on a foldout chair. He took a metallic pot and placed the crustaceans in it, along with some flavoring. The creature watched this with fascination.

"What are you?" Nomad asked as he cooked. The creature didn't appear in any of the books he had read on this planet – not that there were many. This planet was relatively obscure, and hadn't been entirely documented, which was partially why he was here.

"Do you have a name?"

"Screech," screeched the creature.

"Ah."

The rain thundered down outside. Nomad glanced at what he assumed was the direction of the sea – the rain fog was so thick he couldn't see two feet outside his canopy.

"I'll called you Peco then." Nomad said after a moment.

Peco chirruped, which Nomad took to be an agreement. The little reptile slithered over to the campfire and examined it. Its leathery wings spread out to dry and it curled its tail around its feet.

Nomad grinned.