The ship set sail a few hours after Sartore had fallen asleep. But his rest was short lived; a pesky wave tried shoving past the boat, and struck the hull with some annoyance before passing. The lurch awoke a number of passengers, and Sartore was one of them. The first thing he saw was the lamplight spying under his door frame as it swung back and forth. He smiled, stepped out of bed and fastened his boots before stepping into the hallway.

The lamp was only a few meters away. It hung from a black hook in the ceiling by a small metal ring. The lamp was unable to find a decent resting place in the ship’s perpetual movement. But the lamp didn’t fall, nor the flame sputter out.

Sartore heard laughing towards the front of the ship, and went there next. He stood in the light’s radius, and could see no further than its circumference. But after a minute, the ship separated from the heavens; and after that, the ship took form.

The laughing had come from a small handful of the original sailors. They stood in disarray near the front of the ship, their backs to him.

“That’s the kid,” spoke a voice from overhead. Sartore noticed a shadow pointing at him from the crow’s nest, the figure’s feet hanging over the side. A different voice groaned, and Sartore watched one of the sailors turn and approach him, bent forward like an angered bull. Sartore quickly thought of running back to bed, or dashing to the side of the ship and hiding in the dark, but before he could decide, the sailor stood a yard away. His long and wrinkled chin poked into the dome of light, and Sartore could make out the black tentacles of hair that fell around his face.

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“What’re you doing up here? Go back to bed.”

“I just woke up.”

“Well, better run back to sleep then.”

“But—”

“If you don’t want to sleep in your own room, I can always throw you in with the other sailors, I’m sure there’s an open hammock for you. That sound better?”

“No.”

“Well, those’re your options. Take your pick.”

Sartore ceded. The lamplight seared his eyes lightly when he turned to it, and made his next step sloppy. He tripped and nearly fell to the floor, but caught himself on a wooden handrail.

“You—you alright there kid?” the sailor said. Sartore looked back, grinned, and nodded. The sailor nodded in return and walked away.

On his way back to the cabin, Sartore spotted Maisero’s door hanging open, and decided to peek in.

Maisero’s sleep seemed laborious. He was asleep on his side, his chest rising and falling in uneven cycles. Sartore thought Maisero’s squished face and puffy cheeks looked funny. The sheets had fallen away from Maisero, as though they had tried getting away from him.

Suddenly Sartore noticed a mealy taste on his tongue, accompanied by a dry stickiness. Sartore waved goodnight to the sleeping body and stepped back to his own room. Before falling back to bed, he spit defiantly into one of the cracks in the wood under his feet and laughed to himself. He fell sideways into bed, and peeled each boot off with the other foot. Accomplishing that feat, Sartore crawled up to his pillow, slipped under his sheets, and drifted back to sleep.