The pathetic thing sunk a little more into bay, water sloshing over the ship’s rail. Its inhabitants wailed. Their cries eroded under the afternoon squall. She watched them flounder from the rotted wood of a tall empty dock. It was unclear what was wrong with the small vessel, but somewhere something had broken and the little party was sinking into the turbulent bay.
At another time, her chest might have ached for the plight of the ship and its foolish passengers. Another place, her ribs would have swollen with power. But she was a thing of fire-scorched earth. A being of sand and blistered thorn now far from home. The soaked wind and waves did not tug against her heart, and she could not push and pull them in turn.
This was not her place. These strangers, swiftly to be lost under the water they’d sought to challenge aboard pearl-encrusted wood, were not her people. And she was not so unwise. The ship splintered and dragged the hapless under the dark water.
Right from Apprentice, Never Master‘s pockets, a broken ship. The theft is late, but here it is.