The storm had pushed the boat further towards the shore. When Lirran peeked above the railing, he saw the treeline quite clearly, before being rocked back down again. He called for Kaza, but heard nothing back, yet weirdly enough, he felt as if she was near, had not abandoned him. He had complete and utter trust in her.  

Finally, the boat hit something. A scraping and grinding ran along the hull right next to Lirran’s head. The boat rocked a few more times, then it came to a standstill. The wind was howling outside, but the boat was not moving. He peeked out again and saw he had landed upon a shore of gravel and sand, just a few feet before rocks shot up straight several feet and atop them, a wall of leaves and trunks stood. 

Another strong gust pushed the boat just a few inches further. He threw off the tarp, got out of the boat and dragged it a foot further into the wind shadow of a nearby rock, he hoped it to be safer there. He looked for his cloak in the boat when he saw the pale figure of his Navigator crawling out of the water. Her mantle was smeared in blue blood in places, she had the white sail with her, torn down the middle, the oar serving as beam was broken. 

“Navigator!” Lirran ran to her to support her in her wobbly step. “Are you alright?” 

She laid her arm and mantle around him and gladly took his help. He guided her to the boat and sat her down in its shadow, then he looked at the sail. 

The tear was almost complete. “Rock stuck” she said and pointed to a rock jutting out of the water just a few feet away from where the boat had originally landed. 

“You clung to the bottom of the boat, didn’t you?” 

Kaza nodded. 

“I felt you were close. You tried to save the sail, that’s more than I could have done.” 

Kaza seemed discouraged nonetheless. She inspected a wound on her mantle, close to where her left arm was. 

“Is it very bad?” Lirran kept speaking in his tongue. 

She shook her head. “Many times before.” She brought forth. What she had instead of a breath to speak sounded weak and exhausted. “I hate weather. I like to hide in depth.” 

“I can imagine.” Lirran looked around. The wind and rain were getting worse, water was streaming down his body, his clothes didn’t even soak it up anymore. “I need to find shelter, I need to warm up.” He walked to the lowest of the rocks on the beach, where the trees stood right up to the edge above. He grabbed a root and pulled himself up. He looked behind him and saw Kaza slowly slithering up the rock by pressing her mantle into every tiny crevice. 

“You don’t need to come with, you should have no issue with the rain.”  

But Kaza persisted. Together, they started walking into the forest. Despite the torrential downpour, the water only dripped from the leaves and along the trunks of the trees that reached further up than any other Lirran had seen before. The humid air stood beneath this roof like in a cheap inn, the floor was covered in fallen and rotten leaves, making every step slippery. Calls of birds and other animals Lirran had never heard broke through the sound of rushing wind and trickling rain. 

They eventually found a spot with a fortuitous placement of trees. Lirran recognized it as a suitable spot for a camp. 

“I will get the stove and tarp. Once the rain has stopped, we can repair the boat. You stay here and rest.” 

Kaza objected not and Lirran was quickly back at the boat. He got one of the ropes not used in the now torn rigging, tied bucket-shaped stove to the one end, climbed up and tied the other to a tree, then he pulled the supplies up one bucket load by one. After his first trip back to the newly designated camp side, he felt watched. He looked up and a saw a few birds apparently interested in him. Their colours stood out from the green shadow of the trees like flowers on a field. A weird beast crawled through the treetops on paws like hands and with a long tail that grasped the branches. Much of what he saw was weird and foreign. The trees had leaves larger than two spread-out hands and smooth bark. He looked around further. What he felt was not coming from beasts or birds. 

He returned the second time to the camp site and got to starting a fire with some of the driftwood they had kept in the boat. The intent observing him became more apparent. He looked to Navigator Kaza and she too felt it, that much he could tell from her raised head, the mantle peeled out of the way for her to see up. Lirran tried to scan the canopy above him, but swaying trees and howling wind made it impossible to make out anything concise. Then he closed his eyes and focussed. 

He felt something directed at him, yet trying not to reveal itself. An air of confusion stood about the forest at that moment. All around him, the trees, the ground, the leaves emanated a will to survive, a raw force to strive upwards and shove each other apart just to live one more day, to grow one more inch. And among this almost unguided intent, he felt the intent towards them. 

A sound he knew cut through the air: a bowstring let loose. He dropped to the ground. 

“DOWN!” 

But his Navigator was not as fast. He heard an arrow cut down into the ground next to him, then another deflect off a hard plate. He looked and saw behind his Navigator a blur descend to the ground and a dull crack, as a black weapon was brought down on her row of shell plates. Only her attempt to step away from the attacker saved her from worse. She fell to the ground and a humanoid figure stood above her, long, sinewy arms raised a black weapon above her to bring it down another time. 

Lirran shot up and drew his knife. With a scream he charged towards the attacker. He felt the force the ground resisted him with, he sensed the roots beneath that clung to the soil, he saw the red blazing intent of the attacker, who was naked safe for a loincloth. 

His scream alerted the attacker, he turned to Lirran and readied his weapon, club- or swordlike. He raised his weapon to the left and Lirran sensed the strike he intended to perform like a blazing trail ahead of the arm, touching the back of his mind. He arrived by the attacker, standing above Navigator Kaza. 

While the attacker’s body was still whirling around in wide, sweeping motions, Lirran moved his knife into the attacker’s trail of intent, deflecting the blow outward, letting it slide off above his head, the force pushed him down more than he expected, but he adjusted his pose and thought of his own attack. His mind’s left fist moved towards the attacker’s jaw, then he allowed his corporeal fist to follow.  

A smacking sound, a shock went through Lirran’s arm as he missed his mark by an inch, hitting the attacker’s cheek, not his jaw. His bones seemed to want to buckle, jump from their sockets, his entire left arm hurt. But the attacker, tumbling backwards, caught himself and readied the next attack, this time from below. Impossible to let it slide off. Pain reverberated in his left arm, but he readied his mind to block the attack. As the corporeal world followed the world of mind, he let his body catch up. With his forearm, he blocked the attacker’s wrist. 

The attacker cried out in pain and let his weapon fall. His mental body fell into disarray and Lirran raised his knife to strike the attacker down, but just as he aimed for the chaotic tumble to come to an end, he felt a sharp intent. Too late he realized the sound he had heard and an arrow struck his knife, flinging it out of his hand with a precision that froze his blood. 

Two more attackers landed around him and drew their bows aimed at him. He was too far away, their intents were shrouded, their aim was everywhere on his body. The first attacker caught himself and picked his weapon back up. 

Lirran looked to his Navigator, still lying on the ground, giving off a pained groan. He knew he had to take his chances with capture. He knelt down and raised his hands.