The Ferrymen

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  The Mist of Minyon Dar encased the little boat. The white shroud kept the world at bay. The only world of consequence was held between the wales.

  The sleeves of Ufoo's robe had been cut away to keep his well muscled arms free for rowing and his exposed skin glistened with gathered droplets. He leaned into his oars and dipped them into the water. His eyes, hidden in the shadows of his hood, watched intently, for he was not alone.

  She was there as well, in the world between the wales. Just her. How long since he had seen her? Ufoo did not know. Days and nights, months and years all swam like a single shoal of fish, darting this way and that until he could not keep track. She was no longer a child, and yet full maturity had not settled onto her features.

  The scar had sunk a little below the waves but was still there. Storm winds had filled the sails of her blouse. Her hair was longer now, tied into an intricate pattern of braids like the cats-cradle of a schooner.

  The dark glimmer of her eyes were stars to guide him home.

  The boat that Ufoo rowed, light with just the two of them, skipped along the water, darting forward with each stroke. A lifetime passed before the boat gently scraped against the timber of the dock, bumping rhythmically in it's own wash.

  The woman rose to her feet and stooped to collect a soft leather sack from the boards– her life, perhaps, held within. Ufoo watched each movement carefully, his face hidden in the dark folds of his hood.

  “Thank you, ferryman.”

  Ufoo stared.

  She had spoken. By the time the thought had sunk in, the woman had already gone, leaving a swirling wake in the Mist.