Arrows, Mangos and Swine
Summer 5, 520
In a panic, Willjan bolted upright, waking Des in the commotion.
"What in the world are you doing, Will?" she asked.
"It's an emergency! No time to talk," Willjan exclaimed, hurrying out of bed and out of the bungalow they had moved into the day before. He scurried to a semi-remote spot about 70 meters away, untied his pants, and relieved himself.
Ah. Much better. The previous night, he had chugged water in the hopes that his bladder would rouse him to action. Willjan looked up and was pleased to see that his trick had worked - Syna was just barely peaking over the ocean horizon now. He grinned, time to get started.
He hobbled back into the bungalow. Des was already asleep again, snoring away. He ripped an empty page out of his journal and wrote, Gone to go visit the mercantile. Take a look at what they're selling, and their prices. Specifically, how much is salt, sugar, and other foodstuffs. Will be back later - Will. He set the note under a small stone in the dining area, changed, grabbed his day pack and broad-brimmed Sisal hat, and left.
Moving west along the beach, Willjan enjoyed the cool breeze that seemed so fleeting during the Syka summer. After almost dying when trying to unload The Veronica midday yesterday, he realized that if he were to be productive, he'd need to compartmentalize his workday into two shifts: morning and evening. He'd nap during the day and the dead of night, chugging water as his alarm clock... or at least until he found a better way to make sure he woke up.
Passing the Protea Inn and then Mathais' place, Willjan wondered briefly if Syka could eventually be a sort of tourist attraction across Mizahar. It seemed unlikely, given how hard he had struggled to get here, but he made a mental note to visit and pick the owner's brain regarding the matter.
Finally, he came to the Mercantile; though, no one was manning the shop yet. I guess not everyone had quite the same idea, he thought. Frowning, he moved past into the Community Kitchen.
Here, he found life. A woman he recognized as Indigo from his meeting with the Founders a few days ago. She was standing at a counter, using a knife to prepare what appeared to be caught turtle.
In a panic, Willjan bolted upright, waking Des in the commotion.
"What in the world are you doing, Will?" she asked.
"It's an emergency! No time to talk," Willjan exclaimed, hurrying out of bed and out of the bungalow they had moved into the day before. He scurried to a semi-remote spot about 70 meters away, untied his pants, and relieved himself.
Ah. Much better. The previous night, he had chugged water in the hopes that his bladder would rouse him to action. Willjan looked up and was pleased to see that his trick had worked - Syna was just barely peaking over the ocean horizon now. He grinned, time to get started.
He hobbled back into the bungalow. Des was already asleep again, snoring away. He ripped an empty page out of his journal and wrote, Gone to go visit the mercantile. Take a look at what they're selling, and their prices. Specifically, how much is salt, sugar, and other foodstuffs. Will be back later - Will. He set the note under a small stone in the dining area, changed, grabbed his day pack and broad-brimmed Sisal hat, and left.
Moving west along the beach, Willjan enjoyed the cool breeze that seemed so fleeting during the Syka summer. After almost dying when trying to unload The Veronica midday yesterday, he realized that if he were to be productive, he'd need to compartmentalize his workday into two shifts: morning and evening. He'd nap during the day and the dead of night, chugging water as his alarm clock... or at least until he found a better way to make sure he woke up.
Passing the Protea Inn and then Mathais' place, Willjan wondered briefly if Syka could eventually be a sort of tourist attraction across Mizahar. It seemed unlikely, given how hard he had struggled to get here, but he made a mental note to visit and pick the owner's brain regarding the matter.
Finally, he came to the Mercantile; though, no one was manning the shop yet. I guess not everyone had quite the same idea, he thought. Frowning, he moved past into the Community Kitchen.
Here, he found life. A woman he recognized as Indigo from his meeting with the Founders a few days ago. She was standing at a counter, using a knife to prepare what appeared to be caught turtle.
