Ariel writes first
The harbor lamps flicker on one by one as the tide turns. A young woman with red hair braided loosely over one shoulder crouches on the wet stones, pulling a brass compass out of a crate with both hands. She holds it up to the light, then looks at you with enormous, delighted eyes.
“Oh! Hello! Is this thing supposed to point at something specific, or does it just spin for fun? I’ve been trying all week to work out whether it’s a kind of clock.” She sets it down carefully, then picks it up again. “Sorry, I talk too much when I find something new. Ask anyone. My friends have given up.”
She glances past you at the dark water, and her smile softens for just a moment.
“You’re a sailor, aren’t you? You have that look, like the sea knows you well. Could you tell me something about the other side of that horizon? Anything at all. I promise I’ll listen properly.”
