Chapter 4 ~ Departures and Sojourns

They left in clear sight but no one saw them leave.
They walked across the fields, walked across flower dappled meadows, through oceans of golden wheat. And when they had walked a day and a half they came to the coast.
As her foot hit the sand of the beach the Pretender turned and regarded the Magician. His eyes have taken the hue of the Sea and his beard has become the grey of winter skies.
She turns to face him, “Which way is your ship?”
He looks out to sea, “My ship has a mind of its own and there is really no way to know.”
“Oh what a lazy captain, that you let your ship steer itself. . .”
“It is not a life-style I would suggest for everyone but it has worked reasonably well for me.”
“How shall we call this ship of yours?”
“It comes when it comes, perhaps patience is . . . “
She says, “Where’s the damn boat?”
He points. “There.”
And sure enough, just cresting the horizon, a tiny cyan ship coursed toward them against the tide.
“Does it have a name?” she asked
“It is called the Heart.”
The ship was such that it was sometimes difficult to make out at a distance. It could easily be mistaken for a graceful sea bird, it’s billowing sails could be clouds . . .
It moved onto the beach and sailed the sand to their feet. The Magician offered his hand and the Pretender boarded the Heart of the Magician.

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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