Westerfell
The island is visible directly ahead. At least, the storm that surrounds it. We’re anchored about ten knots from it, at Gabriel’s insistence. I can’t really blame him for his hesitance, considering the severity of the storm. The sheets of rain are like a physical wall, topped by angry grey clouds. Lightning flashes between the clouds and down toward the tossing waves. The tide is so vicious that the whitecaps are visible even from this distance. I can only imagine how harshly they must crash against the rocky shore of the island. If we arrive all in one piece, it will be nothing short of a miracle.
Remove these ads. Join the Worldbuilders Guild
Comments