Chapter 18: Cape Wrath

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Chapter 18

     The Fwooper’s Folly had never looked as good as it did while under Sky Heart Cloudstorm’s care. When Shade le Fay had bought the boat it was a ruinous mess; covered in barnacles and rusted. The boat itself was an old light schooner, with two masts and five sails that were all in disrepair of varying degrees. Shade had known little of sailing; he bought the boat to hide in and not for pleasure.

     Sky Heart, though, loved boats. Her family had a sailboat, though not as big as the one Shade had left for her. She took great pride in making adjustments and improvements upon the Fwooper’s Folly. It was nearly fifty feet long (though the cabin underneath had been significantly extended thanks to her Extension Charm, complete with a center galley and several rooms) and it rose as tall and high as a tree. The white of the hull and the keel stood out from the fresh oak appearance of the trimming around the boat, something Sky Heart had painstakingly taken her time replacing and polishing. It was a gorgeous schooner, the result of her labor of love. In her quiet way, it was her tribute to her fallen friend.

     Sky Heart stood behind the wheel of the Fwooper’s Folly, the sun to her back and the sea around her. She felt the breeze blow through her brown hair. She had been letting her hair down more, admiring the way the sea breeze would comb through and kick it about. She was letting her hair grow longer, letting it loose and happy. She had decided to feel free and be more of her true self while at sea. She was bolder, more confident, and more at ease at sea. She felt in her element more on the boat than anywhere else in the world.

     Rouge was leaning against the rail at the stern of the boat, looking at the wake behind the boat as it cut across the sea. He kept taking swigs from a flask he hid in the inner pocket of his crimson coat. He stared at the water as it chopped behind them, oblivious to anyone else around him.

     Rain Fox stood on the forward deck, near the pulpit at the bow of the boat. She had her blades out, silently dancing and twirling them, her eyes shut, her focus on her movements and her balance keen. She restrained her anger and her thoughts, keeping her mind away from being sucked into the Pendant of Death. She kept seeing the specters of people she did not know, which kept her from having peaceful sleep. She instead engaged in her Shadow Dancing, hoping the practice would keep her mind still and distracted.

     The sails were filled with a good breeze, catching what little wind that blew. Sky Heart kept her hands gripped on the wheel, steering the rudder carefully to slip between the choppy waves of Pentland Firth, between John O’Groats and the Orkney Islands. She had made the voyage before, though from the opposite direction, and did not anticipate such choppy waves, waves that were previously an aid to her getting to Hogwarts. The sun was beginning to dip near the horizon, the evening approaching quickly and silently.

     Teller emerged from the hatch and stood next to Sky Heart at the helm. He held a mug of steaming hot coffee in his right hand, the strange magical-mechanical hand that Sherman Locke had made for him. He was still getting used to the thing, glad for it and loathsome of it at the same time.

     “Thank the Maker you have coffee on this thing,” Teller said, staring forward and taking small sips from his mug.

     “I’m quite aware of you Americans and your affinity for coffee,” she remarked, “So I made sure to keep some on the ship. I have no clue as to how to prepare it, though-“

     “I figured it out,” Teller said, “Without the usual stuff. Not the first time I had to use magic to whip up a cup of Joe.”

     “You named it Joe?” Sky Heart asked.

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