clucking against the gravel beach, and there’s a light on the horizon.
I stretch and gingerly touch my shoulders. Still sore, but that’s only to be expected.
The memory of last night returns, and I get to my feet feeling optimistic and cheerful.
Caronerax is nowhere to be seen, but the raft is still there, so he didn’t leave without me. He must have pushed it out into the water, because for the first time I can see that it floats. Pretty high in the water, too.
I munch on not-sheep meat and not-blueberries, making note to think of better names for both. Except if I’ll be leaving the planet soon anyway, there might be no need for new names at all.
I pack the meat and the berries, using the fur as a sling pouch to carry them.
Then I stand on the beach, kick at the raft, and look around for that mercurial dragon.
Immediately, he comes striding out of the woods, both casual and determined at the same time. He whisks past me, goes up on the raft, and grabs the oar-tree that lies there. I have to scramble to get up onto the logs before me pushes off, using the entire tree as a pole.
“I guess we’re leaving,” I comment, trying to keep my balance while I sit down on the logs.
“Indeed, we are,” Caronerax says and plunges the tree to the bottom of the lake, then pushes hard at it and makes the whole front of the raft rise up in the air from the sheer water pressure. “I know which way we should be going, but I also think you should point it out.”
“That way,” I state, pointing straight south, which is pretty much back to the island we just left. “But probably better to go around.”
“You think so?” He has the driest delivery of any man ever.
I decide to shut up and concentrate on not falling overboard. The logs squeak and tremble from Caronerax’s great power when he pushes at the tree-slash-pole, transferring the force to the raft. It’s not the stablest of vessels, and I sit down as flat as I can, clinging to the moving logs as hard as possible without getting my fingers caught between them.
The lake gets deeper, and Caronerax starts using the tree as an oar, dipping the top half of it into the water and pulling at it. His back muscles flex delightfully in the sunshine. There is really something to be said about yellow stripes on a blue background. I will never look at the Swedish flag the same way again. But of course, that rarely has this kind of muscle underneath it.
The dragon maneuvers us around the island at what to me is great speed, and I notice we do leave a considerable wake behind us. This thing will never be a speedboat, but it could well be one of the fastest watercraft on Xren.
There’s nothing for me to do except keep lookout for dactyls, so I decide to do that and simply enjoy the ride, watching our island grow distant behind us. Ahead there’s mostly water, but also a long line of forest way ahead of us. When we get there I guess we have to leave the raft, but this is not a bad way to travel a mile or two.
As it turns out, we end up going much further than I thought. The lake is long and narrow and vaguely S-shaped, and when after several hours we finally get to the end of it, we have come many miles almost straight south.
Caronerax carelessly drives the raft up onto the beach, and I stagger off it, knees weak and fingers numb. I’m soaked — dragons aren’t natural rowers, and I’ve been splashed with just about every single stroke.
But I’m not as cold today as yesterday. The sun heats me up more than yesterday, and holding onto the not-sheep fur helps keep some warmth in me.
This beach is much like the one we left.
I pick up a stone, polished and round. “You think this is another island?”
There’s no reply, and that’s fair enough. It’s a question impossible to answer. I ask it mostly to say something.
“I’ll eat a little more and we can keep walking,” I suggest. “And I’ll apply more paste to you.”
That done, we walk on. This time Caronerax walks in front, but still pacing himself and not leaving me behind, which he easily could have.
I keep lookout upwards, both for dactyls and possible rescuers. Not that I need