The night's veil thinly dragged across the sea until it covered out the sun.
Tiny stars lined the dark sky and a vague crescent lingered low in the firmament, reflecting in the waters as a fractured silver light.
Hands folded within her shawl, Madelyn sat on an overturned crate near the mainmast. She inhaled the salty air and let the breeze trouble her loose strands. It was great to sit with a bunch of people that did not care how she tied her hair, or what dress she chose to wear or if her stare lingered too long on another. It was great to sit to nothingness in talks. The cold air brushed her cheeks.
The deck was lit with the swinging lanterns and the ship shifted subtly to the command of the sea, everyone had gathered again to their tradition almost forgotten.
Well, not everyone.
"The captain knows, but he does not care as long as he always is available to attend to our health." Henry explained.
