Getting away

“What should we do?” There was maybe a kilometer to the harbor; perhaps he would come looking for us if he’d heard the shots? But then the captain was in danger. No, we had to escape him. But how? It was a small island; he knew where we were headed.

“I don’t know. It’s so open out here; he’ll see us instantly if we start running.”

He looked down at my raised foot and rolled his eyes. “Start limping.” I pointed an angry finger at him, “Hey, you could have just told me you were afraid we were being followed, you ass.”

“And you could have told me this “romantic treasure hunt” would end in a stand-off.” He made quotation marks with his fingers, speaking with an angry voice.

“How the fuck would I know that?” Another shot effectively ended our foolish quarrel, making Cian hug the stone. He closed his eyes hard for two seconds, thinking hard. Why wasn’t I doing that? I had lost my brain when we found the astrolabe, it seemed.

“Do you have your phone?”