Chapter the Fourth,
The Third to Last Day,
In which an arrow stands alone.
I. Redirected
If the wind had altered its direction to guide them
north or south or even west Jai and Ceder might never
have noticed, for the scenery in every direction was the
same endless backdrop of azure curtains. Lulled by the
heat of the sun, they found refuge in the bottom of the
boat with their heads tucked in the shade under the
middle bench. Astray lay curled in the prow with Why
sitting atop his head, reclined against one of the cub’s
ears as though the butterfly was lounging in a favorite
reading chair.
An abrupt thud shook them all from their drifting
reveries. Astray was the first one up, vigilantly sniffing
at the obstruction in their way—a wooden pole,
standing tall and skinny in the empty sea. The wood was
green, sickly, and twisted, like dried fish flesh. There
was a white arrow affixed to the top of the pole by a
rusty iron nail. The tip of the boat touched the pole,
wedged into a small nook in the wood. Despite vigorous
waves the vessel did not slide past the signpost.
“Jai, do you think we just happened to bump into the
only pole out here in the entire sea? Not bloody likely,”
Ceder concluded. Jai raised an eyebrow.
It was a vexingly simple sign. Astray looked around
each side of the pole as if he might see something past
the left that was invisible from the right.
“Not very helpful, is it?” asked Why.
