Althea’s first time sailing was brief. Ephron never knew, although perhaps now his blood has sunk into the Vivacia’s bows he will. Vivacia remembers only vaguely, just the sense of knowing more of Althea than her small feet pattering on deck and the whip of skirt twisting round Vivacia’s mast.
Althea hid under the spare jib untangling an ancient halyard rope with bare hands until the new deckhand accidentally stepped on her.
Brashen told Ephron he hadn’t collected the new topsail. They rowed silently back to shore. Althea furious, plans thwarted; Brashen stoic, resigned to spending two weeks on half-rations.