When I wake up late the next morning, the first thing I see is Faladel waving my second best jerkin in the air. I stare at him for a few seconds, wondering if I’m really awake at all, or if him jumping up and down trying to catch the attention of the creatures piloting the flying boat in the distance is just a very strange twist to my earlier dream about riding a giant firefly.

It takes a few seconds before I realize that this has all probably been an extended fever dream brought on by bad mushrooms. There was no way that the time distortion could have been so large, and the whole glowing blue hands thing really didn’t make any sense anyway. So, I do what I’d do in any fever dream, and immediately go to rescue my second-best jerkin, snatching it out of a surprised Faladel’s hands and returning it to my pack, bringing back my best jerkin.

“Wait, isn’t that your–?” Faladel begins, “I’d specifically avoided that one.”

“Why?” I ask him, annoyed by how groggy my mind is. In my dreams, I’m normally much more awake, “It’s not like it’s my real one, and we want to make a good impression don’t we?”

Faladel stares at me blankly for a bit before I encourage him “You should really go back to jumping now. I’d try jacks. You are spectacularly bad at them, it might get their attention.”

“Something’s wrong with my jumping jacks?” Faladel asks, a bewildered expression on his face, exactly what I would expect from Dream Faladel. I sigh and shake my head knowingly. Real Faladel would have already realized that one was supposed to clap during the jump, not after one landed. After demonstrating the proper technique for him, I abandon him to it, and go to wash up. The boat will come, dream-plot will force it to. But considering this is a fever dream, it will likely be piloted by restless souls or something equally sinister. I splash water on my face, and as the cold, salty droplets trickle down it, I consider my options. Illogical as dreams are, I can probably make the restless souls become friends with us. The question is, what do they like to eat for breakfast? Besides the living of course. That would be rather counterproductive.

I start up a fire as Faladel shouts in excitement. “I think they’ve spotted us Briareth! We should pack up, get ready to go! I wonder how their boat flies, I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Do you suppose restless souls would prefer a breakfast stir fry, or stew?” I ask him, feeding another bit of shrubbery to the fire. It smokes terribly, and I cough as the wind changes, pushing it into my face.

“What?” He just stares at me. I stare back at him and repeat my question.

He frowns at me. “Briareth, they’re going to be here any minute. We have to get ready to go.”

“No, we have to be ready to serve them breakfast.” I explain logically. “They’ll be hungry after their voyage, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be their next meal.” I feed another leafy branch into my small-but-growing fire. It devours the branch a little too quickly and licks at my fingertips. I yelp from the pain, and suck on my fingers unhappily.

Wait, surely that should have woken me up. People don’t feel pain in dreams, which is why I’m not overly upset by the idea of being eaten instead of breakfast. Perhaps those mushrooms were stronger than I thought? I scowl. I don’t know if I can handle the pain of being eaten! I need to wake up now!

I squeeze my eyes really tight shut, and then open them as wide as possible. Nothing. I rub my closed eyes, go back to the lake and splash saltwater on my face again–I vaguely notice that the boat has come closer– but it doesn’t help. Turning to a bemused looking Dream Faladel, I ask plaintively “How do you wake up?”

“Oh, is that what you were trying to do? Don’t worry Briareth, this isn’t a dream! The boat is coming, and we can continue exploring this new world, it doesn’t have to end here.” He smiles at me, obviously trying to be reassuring.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” I mutter. How can he not get it, dream-logic states that since nothing bad has happened yet in this fever dream, the ship has to be crewed by–

Wait. Dream logic. If I’m not dreaming then… “We aren’t going to die!” I shout exultantly.

“That’s the spirit.” Faladel says, still looking absolutely bemused by my antics. But the relief sweeping through me overwhelms me utterly, and I suddenly can’t find the strength to even try to explain my thought process to him. Instead I slump down on the shoreline and watch the flying boat draw closer. Now that I’m not distracted by trying to make breakfast, I take the time to observe the ship and its crew.

It’s a small ship, no more than a very large rowboat really. It’s made of lots of different planks of wood, probably held together by some sort of glue or sealant, and the keel of the ship– its bottom– has a long strip of something strange running from bow to stern that– if my eyes aren’t fooling me with light reflections off the water– is actually glowing blue. The boat has a single set of sails, but I’m not convinced the wind is strong enough to carry them at the speed they’re traveling, so there’s probably some other method of propulsion involved. There is also a wheel up in the helm. Put the wheel and the sails together with the tiny size, and that glowing blue material and– I have no clue what kind of ship this is. I was never very good with boats. I always preferred my trees uncut.

I lean back onto a conveniently placed rock and try to estimate how much time we have, as Faladel bustles around behind me, probably packing things up. Suddenly, I leap up and let out a shout of surprise. Someone just fell off the boat! But instead of falling into the water, dark wings spread out from their back and catch them mid fall, and they swoop towards our island, much faster than the boat itself.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Faladel–!” I shout, but find myself unable to shout anything else, unsure of what exactly to say. The figure soars closer and is soon landing right in front of me and a very confused Faladel.

Folding his wings tightly against his back he looks us up and down and asks “Who exactly, – well, first– what exactly are you?” My ears buzz slightly, and I shake them out. The young man’s face is smiling, but one of his hands settles on a small, strangely shaped scabbard at his hip, that I have no doubt holds a weapon of some kind. He doesn’t seem keen to use it yet, but I get the feeling that he will if we make the slightest provocation.

“We’re elves.” Faladel says, staring at him with eyes that are at least as wide as mine as we take in the strange creature. “What are you?”

“I’m a Kashan, obviously.” The young man extends one of his wings, as if that were proof enough. It is black, and looks– leathery? There aren’t any scales or feathers, just a soft looking fur. It looks surprisingly fragile, like a dagger could slice into it and cause a lot of damage and pain.

“Mind if I…?” I gesture to the wing and trail off. He stares at me blankly, bright red eyes looking very confused. “Can I touch it?” I ask again. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He somehow looks even more flabbergasted. “Sure I suppose. But avoid the veins, they’re ticklish.”

Delighted, I move behind him and run my fingers over the outstretched wing. It’s huge, soft and warm and very much alive and a part of him. He jolts as my fingers brush a lump– probably one of the veins he was talking about. “Sorry.” I apologize, while internally wondering if cutting him there would make him bleed out faster than he’d reach Faladel if he chooses to attack. Considering how easily he let me touch it, perhaps it’s not as fragile as it looks? Or perhaps I misread his earlier suspicions. Either way, if he takes offense at anything we do or say, I’m in a pretty good position right now. Well, until his friends on the ship arrive in a few minutes. Then things could get very hairy. I study him some more, as he studies Faladel in turn. He’s a head and a half taller than me, with shoulder length black hair and pale skin with a bluish undertone. Well, except where he’s sunburned, there he’s red as a holly berry. His ears are the same ashen color as the rest of him, but they turn to black as they reach their points, and look slightly fuzzy. I resist the urge to touch them as well.

“I’m guessing you guys aren’t from around here.” He says after studying us for a bit longer. Apparently, what he sees satisfies him, as he relaxes slightly, his fingers leaving that sinister scabbard. His eyes still study Faladel curiously as I stay in my position behind his back. “I’ve never heard of elves before. How did you end up on this deserted rock? Did you crash?” His wing twitches slightly. “Do you perhaps have a map of where you came from?”

Faladel hesitates, clearly not sure of how much to say. I don’t want to take the lead on this, don’t want to bring attention to myself, so I wait him out.

“We brought maps with us of course, but I don’t think they’d be of any use to you.” He says carefully. “We came from a different world, so our maps wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Well, that is both intriguing and disappointing.” The young man says, and glances around. “Is the gateway to your world on this island then? Is it still open?”

Faladel stares at him silently, and the young man throws back his head and laughs. “It’s alright, I understand. We don’t know each other yet, it would be foolish to tell me all about it. You said you were explorers, right? It’s always good to meet a trade-mate, especially when we are so rare nowadays.” I move out back in front of him. Studying his posture and tone is all well and good, but I really need to be facing someone to get a good read on them. And now this young man, who had been ‘hand on his hilt’ to us earlier, is smiling broadly, and behind him, his shipmates have ‘docked’ their sky-ship and are disembarking. They are equally as odd as this Kashan fellow. They’re both female. One is short– short enough to be a child, but with a very adult figure. Her hair is white, and her ears are the largest I’ve ever seen. She marches over to us and immediately starts scolding the young man.

“Fin Hypnious, I told you, not to engage with the strangers! You were just supposed to do a flyby and report back!”

“But they clearly weren’t hostile!” Fin protests, “You saw it, just like I did, the blond one had been trying to signal us! They’re explorers, Silv!”

“Oh?” Silv turns towards us, her shorn, honey-colored hair sticking out in all directions as she stares up at us, unimpressed. “If they’re explorers, where’s their ship? How did they get here? And what exactly are they?”

“They say they came through an Interworld gateway.” Fin explains. “They’re clearly not from around here, Silv.” His tone is wheedling. “Surely we could take them to the Outpost at least. I’m certain the Chroniclers will have much to ask them, if they came from the outside world.”

“And what if they’ve already aligned with the dragons?” Silv asks, disgust twining with distrust in her tone. I shoot Faladel a look, they have dragons here? Dragons plural?

Faladel makes a small stop gesture with his hands, and I understand immediately. If dragons are the enemy of these folk, we probably shouldn’t mention that we’re friends with one who makes spectacular pancakes.

“We’ve been here for only a day.” Faladel says, “And not even a whole one at that. It would be impossible for us to make any alliances in that short a time.”

Fin gives Silv a look that says, ‘see, I told you so!’ quite clearly. She frowns at him, but turns to study us. After scanning and dismissing our swords, she says “Well, they look harmless enough. I suppose we can carry them back to the Outpost. There they can decide what to do with them.

Fin smiles. “I knew you’d warm up to them, you can’t resist a good mystery. And we can outvote Elen if that becomes a problem.”

“Who’s outvoting me about what?” The third crewmember from the ship– another winged creature of about Fin’s height comes over. Her wings are white and feathery, and her deep brown eyes match her chocolate hair and tan complexion quite nicely. She takes a second to observe the situation. Fin smiling broadly, Silv still staring at us eyes narrowed and arms crossed, and sums it up easily. “So, we’re going to take them with us then? I see no problem with that. As long as they behave themselves. What are they, anyway?”