As I loaded the wagon full of supplies onto the Seacow the weather was gray and miserable. In the lonely silence, there was also this … pressure. Like ... everything was ... more dangerous than I could handle. As if I were a pet rabbit, abandoned in a woods full of animals faster, stronger, and smarter than me.

Yet it also seemed so absurd, so pathetic. And though there was one person I could have talked to about it, I felt too ashamed to reveal the depths of my inherent cowardice.

“What was that?” Tab asked.

It seemed I had mumbled something to myself. “Nothing … sorry,” I said, feeling equal parts embarrassed and tired.

Tab crawled down onto my breast and folded her arms. “You … think there might be a therapist you can talk to in this world?”

I’ve ... been seeing one," I replied, trying hard not to get defensive in the midst of the anger I felt toward myself. "But it doesn't ever change this … thing … I have inside of me.”

Tab nodded a few times, seeming kind of pensive for a bit. She looked like she was going to try to say something when we reached the ship. I made no motion to stop or listen. Instead, I set about trying to figure out how to again lift the row-boat out of the water and onto the back of the ship.

Once aboard, I organized the clothing and food I’d been given–stashing the former into an empty barrel. Remembering that we’d actually used the anchor this time, I hoisted it up manually.

Finally, I let Tab guide me in fastening our new sails.

When I was finished, I stared out over the infinite sea before me. I whispered, “We’re nowhere close to getting home, are we?”

Tab paused audibly and replied, “We’ve … made good progress? The supplies are going to make a real difference in how far we can go before we need to stop again.”

“But we’re months out,” I said, not in the mood to be cheered by well-meaning deceptions.

“Yeah,” Tab said with a sigh.

“And then who knows how many months or years to figure out how to get around the Mist,” I said, feeling more and more numb except for the cold emptiness setting upon me. “It could be … years to get back home.”

Tab did not respond other than to look out uncomfortably over the water.

I hung my head and whispered, “I ... don't know how I'm going to do this.”

"The only way we can," Tab said, letting her words hang for a moment. "One breath at a time,"

-O-

One breath at a time was how I made it from day to day for the next few weeks. Taking advantage when there was wind. Summoning the magic to make the boat go when there wasn't.

For her part, Tab navigated with an increasing level of accuracy. She was the last to bed and the first to wake so that she could see the stars and make notes on our trajectory.

Along the way, we passed many islands–probably filled with every species of creature one could imagine. Yet, it was only when we began to run low on food that we ventured toward one of them to resupply.

The island was a large one shaped like a crescent. There were plenty of trees and what seemed like some buildings further inland. Given the shape, I supposed that it was an atoll. I wasn’t sure, though. I wasn’t the best with geology … or hydrology … geography maybe?

I released the anchor when we were within range. To my surprise, the anchor made an odd, clunky noise when it hit the bottom, and I didn’t hear it grab anything.

Then the Seacow began to shake.

“What did we hit!” Tab asked, stepping out of my ear and onto my shoulder.

The minor shaking turned to great wobbles, clatter, and tilting to one side. I lost my grasp on the railing and fell overboard. Hitting the water with a splash. Surprisingly, however, I was immediately able to stand on something solid beneath me … something that was rising.

Soon, the surface rose up over the water.

It was … metal plating ... lifted us and the ship higher and higher until we were at least fifty feet in the air. Then, as soon as it began, the movement stopped. Leaving us onto a platform that stretched nearly as wide as the island.

I looked around for any sign of what had happened. As if in response, there was a hydraulic hiss. One of the metal plates in the middle of the platform slid aside.

A face popped out of the hole, revealing a man who looked somewhat elvish. With cotton-candy pink skin, black eyes, and pointed ears. Instead of hair, however, he had fleshy tendrils that fell down to his shoulders. These tendrils were covered in rows of magenta frills. It took me a moment to realize that it looked somewhat like that of an axolotl.

The axolotl-man rose out of the hole fully to reveal that he was much more distinct from elves than I first thought. A form of centaur, with the lower body of a giant gecko. His tail, which had a semi-translucent frill above and below it, circled upward over his head like a scorpion.

As the man made his approach, his padded feet seemed to have no trouble hanging onto the smooth metal plates. And the sun shimmered off his golden armor plating. At least, what wasn't covered by his formal clothing and long, leather coat. Possessing a kind of ... sexy steampunk pirate-soldier vibe

“No-tailer,” said the axolotl-taur, his voice like the low rumble of a summer storm. He brandished a golden war-hammer covered in knobs and gears. Not threateningly but confidently, at his side.

Yeah, while most men were not my thing, something about this one was doing it for me.

But ... no tailer?

I looked at my little cow tail, as it gave a cute but involuntary little flick.

His eyebrows furrowed as he studied me. “You're obviously not a circle-dragon. But are you a trader or a pirate?”

I looked down at myself and remembered the crumbs I'd almost stolen. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest answer, but given his soldier-like demeanor, I couldn't help but answer with, “Uhm … yes?”

The circle-dragon frowned out of one corner of his mouth. “A pirate who confesses immediately to being one? Where is your crew? And what sort of weapon did you plant to fight us with?”

Quite breathily, Tab whispered, “Right here, hot stuff. And this crew confesses to wanting to be plundered by that hunk of a man.” Of course, there was no way he could have seen or heard her.

“I’m ... more of a … trying to get home after a storm but ran out of food … kind of pirate.”

“So … a lost sailor,” the circle dragon said, dully.

“...yeah,” I said, feeling a little downcast at being demoted from pirate to sailor already.

The circle dragon strapped his hammer back over his broad shoulder and sighed. “You do know that if you had been a pirate, I would have had to kill you? That doing so would have been … bad ... for you?”

“Yeah, but …” I said, unsure how to express that pirates were by far the sexier option.

“Aw, it’s okay Lilly,” Tab said with a pat on my cheek. “A cute little sailor dress would suit you better anyways.”

I let out a pouting grumble.

The circle dragon moved to look at my butt. I might have been offended, but he did not seem lecherous as much as concerned. “For what reason is your tail ... so small?”

I shook my head, not even knowing where to begin with that question, and simply replied. “It’s a long story.”

At this, the circle dragon squeezed his eyebrows together between his forefinger and thumb and then said, “The Queen will never understand this. Okay, I need you to come with me, urgently, before anyone else sees you."

I paused. "What about my ship?"

"I’ll see to it that your vessel is removed safely from the Arch, on the return of the next water cycle."

None of that meant anything to me, and it must have shown. But ... I was pretty sure I wasn't being arrested ... or having my ship stolen.

I tried to approach but slipped dangerously on the metal. With a groan, I stood again and asked, “Can’t we just … back up this … machine a little bit so I can get out of your hair–er–tentacle frills?”

The circle dragon shook his head. “The Arch only goes forward, not back. Over the next few days, we will reach a much higher elevation before we again descend below the waters.”

Making the matter a little easier to bear, the circle-draon approached and offered me his arm. It was a practical gesture, given how difficult a time I was having walking on the wet algae-coated metal.

Still ... I took his arm and couldn't help but stop to say, “My name is Lilly, by the way.”

The axolotl-taur blinked, seeming ever so slightly caught off-guard. “External Safety Chief, Raathgur.”