I have drawn a hundred coastlines that turned out to be real. I did not expect the storm to be the thing that made the most sense to me all year. She counted to forty again, on the way back. She didn't stop this time. I think I am done pretending the maps are the only thing I've been trying to get right.
The storm hit before the coastline did. Arvid kept insisting his map was still right, even as the sea tried to prove otherwise. I have spent my life being unimpressed by clever men who talk instead of act. He didn't talk. He grabbed the rope before I did and took the worst of it so I wouldn't have to. I am still deciding how I feel about owing him anything.
Sigrid counted the stars out loud tonight, to check we were still on course. She got to forty and stopped, as if forty was enough proof for anyone reasonable. I did not tell her I had already stopped believing in the count around thirty. I was watching how she frowned when she lost track. I don't know what to call this. I am choosing not to name it yet. Naming things tends to be how I lose them.
Arvid wants to sail west to "verify a coastline." I am going with him so he doesn't verify it directly into a reef. This is not an adventure. This is supervision.