A Few Weeks

It's been a little while since we've hit the shoreline, and none of us intend on getting back on the boat for a while. It was cramped, busy, loud, and even after almost a decade sailing that god forsaken wreck, I still got a little seasick once in a while. No bother though.

It's been even longer since the motherland got flooded. The waters rose, and none of us were really ready. There was no time to set up anything more advanced than an old junk ship rig on a dilapidated (The original owner called it 'weathered') ship; we called it Henrietta. It sailed well and got us around the now archipelago-like seas.

We realized that we would sink if we didn't float, so we got a community together and educated ourselves. We ran the ship like a democracy. The navigators had the permanent positions because they proved that they could sail and scout the ships, but my position is electoral. It feels like a dictatorship though, when nobody else wants the position. I've heard people whisper that I'm a little flannel-mouthed, but if they think they know better, then why the hell aren't they taking the position? I'd gladly step down, but I think if I did,  they'd tear me to bits and I'd be gone up the flume.

A week into hitting the shore, and we're starting to fell some of the trees. If we can make a few shelters, not everybody has to sleep on a beached ship. The local fauna here is fairly harmless too. If one remains silent enough, they'll approach. I was expecting more violent creatures, but birds, deer, and other woodland creatures seem to be prospering. With their prosperity comes ours, because we're all beyond sick of eating fish. Morning, afternoon, evening. Fish, fish, and guess what? More fish.

Deer tastes a little gamy, but at least it's not fish.

Alyxandr is keeping up his training regimen. It hasn't proved too useful insofar as that we haven't had to defend ourselves, or attack other intelligent groups, but if it makes him happy, and it makes other people happy, who am I to stop them? I do think he's taking it a little bit too far sometimes.

Anyways, it's regrettable that I can't write more often. Too many damn irons in the fire. Big irons, small irons, but they're all flaming hot, and it's monopolizing my time far more than I'd expect. Debates and strife over food rations, water rations, who does what work, etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah.

I'm a little sentimental about when there was a time that I was just a guy with a good idea. Nobody screaming in my ears about how they think I'm wrong, or that somebody else wronged them.

I guess I'll pack in my horns and hope nobody puts a spoke in the wheels any time soon.

Now, this doesn't look anything like our ship, or our shore, but I like the picture.