Overhead, the Moon drenched them in an ethereal light. Stars blazed between the clouds. In the quiet, he contemplated what they had just seen.
“I think we’re safe,” he said. “It’s behind us.”
Shotgun said nothing. On the raft’s bow, the dwarf had succumbed to exhaustion. His head lolled in sync with the waves.
He checked the sky and the lake for his bearings. Bora Bora was on the other side of the lagoon. Ahead stars outlined the upper towers of the Black Wharf against the artificial night. Moonlight glimmered on the lagoon. What will we find at that castle?
As the sky turned, he set his course and drove their raft into the night. Shotgun slept. Sleep tempted him, but he fought back.
His memory of the wolf pack and strange creature in the cove kept him going. He wove around little docks. He was incredibly tired, but he dared not put into shore after seeing the wolf pack and its master. More than once, he narrowly missed an unlit buoy.