The day passed steadily as Kael Veyra learned from the sea. He had spent many days at sea since his first catch, and now he was beginning to understand its routine. The heat had baked his skin under the relentless sun, and the quiet motion of Echo had become familiar during long, restless nights.
He had learned to manage his limited supplies from rationing his bread, catching fish with care, and adjusting the sail on his patched skiff. Each challenge had made him more capable, his arms lean and his gray eyes alert. By the tenth day, the memory of Roger's laugh still lingered in his mind, urging him to move west through the East Blue.
At dawn, Kael noticed a shadow on the horizon. He saw land for the first time; a rough, low island with cliffs set against the pale sky. Sitting at the tiller, Kael felt relief mixed with fatigue. "About time," he muttered, his voice rough from salt and silence. He guided Echo into a narrow inlet until the hull scraped gently against the sand. Carefully, he stepped onto the shore, tying his skiff to an old, weathered stump so that the sea's movement would not unsettle it.
The island smelled different from Driftend. There was salt and damp earth mixed with a fresh, green scent. With his sack slung over his shoulder and his nearly empty waterskin at his hip, Kael climbed a low rise to survey the area. He saw rocky ground, scrub, and vines spilling from the cliff. His stomach growled; the fish he had caught the day before had been his last meal. He moved toward the tangled vines, hoping to find fruit or edible roots.
A sudden rustle stopped him. He froze, his hand brushing the handle of his rusty knife. The vines shifted, and a boy, no older than 15, emerged. He was thin, his skin sunburned, and his torn shirt revealed patches of faded cloth. Clutching a cracked wooden pole, the boy stumbled and fell hard onto the sand. Instinctively, Kael stepped forward. "Hey," he called softly, his voice calm and not threatening. The boy flinched, scrambling to his feet and holding his pole as if it were a weapon.
"Stay away!" the boy said in a strained voice, his eyes wide and trembling.
Kael slowly raised his hands, showing he meant no harm. "I am not here to hurt you. Are you alright?" he asked carefully.
The boy hesitated, then lowered his pole slightly. "My name is Taro," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I got stuck. The vines are a mess. I was fishing, then..." He trailed off and pointed to a tangled net hanging on the cliff, where a few weak fish struggled.
Kael glanced at the net, then back at Taro, a slight smile forming. "It looks like you had a rough day," he said. "Let me help you get that free."
Taro nodded cautiously. Kael drew his knife and carefully began cutting through the thick vines. As he worked, one vine snapped and hit his arm, leaving a red welt. He shook it off and continued.
"Careful," Taro said, a small smirk breaking through his worry as he helped pull the net loose. Together, they freed the net, and several fish spilled onto the sand. One fish, larger and more lively than the others, slipped away toward the water. Kael lunged after it. His boots slipped in the wet sand, but he managed to pin the fish with his knee before using his knife to secure it. Blood stained the sand, and Kael's breath came quick as he looked at the catch.
"Good job," Taro said with a shaky laugh as he helped gather the fish. They collected five fish in total, a modest haul but enough to share.
"Have you been here long?" Kael asked as he wiped his knife on his coat and stacked the fish.
"Days," Taro replied, carefully tying the net into a bundle. "My boat broke, and my friend Ren is hurt somewhere up the beach. You ?"
Kael nodded. "I sailed from home, looking for something," he said quietly.
Taro raised an eyebrow, then nodded slowly. Without pressing further, Kael offered his hand. "Come on. Let's take these to Ren."
Taro accepted, and together they walked along the shore with their catch. As they moved, Kael felt a growing confidence. His steps were steady on the uneven ground, and he sensed that every challenge made him stronger. The lessons of the sea were slowly shaping him, as natural as the tide.