Ankyra Sound Nobody knows you now.

When the ghost stopped for the night he essentially collapsed out of fatigue, sleeping until the humid middle hours of the next day, and when he was concious enough to continue his journey he did not know where to go. The horizon was blotted with dark marks that were far-off mountains, and in the other direction the earth was jagged an imposing. Mou was naturally inclined not to venture too close to the cliffs.

The sea still called to him. Maybe it was the memory of all the people he had met on the island, more specifically. It had only been a month but they had reformed him from the pieces they had found; he loved them, and would miss them. But this was better — the boy would no longer be a drain on resources, and he would be able to find his footing in the big wide world. Perhaps even wherever it was he came from.

Inevitably he trailed along the beach again, and his path led him to a gaping cave that loomed ominously among a stand of twisting trees. They were thoroughly weathered by the salted wind, but reaching and vibrant nonetheless. The arbutus trees shuddered as he crept beneath it, and with a startling groan a piece of branch came peeling away. To avoid it the boy skittered hastily in to the dark of the cave, and was left there breathing heavily from the exertion.

The segment of wood hit the sand and splintered, scattering debris across the ratty, dry grass.