Planning a trip Downunder? Australian Oddities

Here is a little guide to avoid confusion when you arrive Downunder.

Settle down, I’ll boil the billy and we can chew the fat. 

If you’re planning a trip to Australia, Downunder, the Great Southern Land… you could find a few things perplexing. I hope you find the links entertaining. :)

Alright, apart from the time zone difference, once you set foot in Australia there are a few discrepancies that might confuse the tourist.

Driving on the wrong side of the road makes perfect sense to us. We prefer you to do the same while visiting. In case you forget, we've put up 'Keep left' signs before roundabouts.

Our currency is colourful, as is our language. Apparently our accent is unintelligible but that’s ok. We know what we mean. There are those who say we talk to fast. Good reason for that, too much to do, see, enjoy, to waste time making ourselves understood.

So the beach is looking good? Well, sunshine and surf have their own confusing traits. The sun burns even when the day is overcast. Time and tide conspire to create rips and undercurrents. Although the sand is golden, the waves seem perfect, the temperature is high and the water invites immersion, beware. 

Quote from EXILED: Autumn's Peril
Book One in the CHRONICLES OF CALEATH

Rips do exactly that, they rip the swimmer out of their comfort zone and transport them to depths unknown. The water between the flags, though more crowded is monitored. Unless you have gills, best to keep within sight of the surf lifesavers. 

They aren’t called  Life savers because they are sweet. Watch out for budgie smugglers. No, they don’t endanger the wildlife but they can be scary.

Travelling inland, you may come across our cuddly critters. Don’t be fooled. They aren’t cuddly at all. Koalas have spurs. They are noisy, cantankerous and relatively hard to see. They can be cute and lovable, but don’t think of hugging one without a handler.

Mind you if you have the time and the energy a ride though the Snowy Mountains on horseback is an amazing experience. Share the beauty of our 'mountains' and wild brumbies. 

The taste of billy brewed tea is memorable as is being caught in a snow storm in the middle of summer.

The platypus probably isn’t our most outgoing creature. They might look confusing if you manage to see one. Don’t be tempted to touch. The male has a poisonous spur. Friendly hey!

Ditto the kangaroo. They can be aggressive. Those long toes have been known to tear the unsuspecting human. They too are cute and have their place. Taste good on a BBQ.

Speaking of BBQ’s… although the advertisement says ‘throw another shrimp on the barbie’, in actuality we call them prawns. ‘Shrimp’ where I was raised is a term used to describe someone of diminutive size, so if you are shorter than average… No, we wouldn’t call you that…

Emus, kookaburras, cockatoos… not cuddly. If you watched Steve Irwin back in the day, you will know our bush is full of dangerous biting critters. It’s a wonder we venture outdoors. Really… come on. You have bears. We have tiny spiders, snakes, ticks, scorpions. I know which I would prefer to run away from.

 from EXILED: Autumn's Peril
CHRONICLES OF CALEATH

Sharks… have a look at the videos at sharkviews.blogspot.com and you will understand that the sharks we swim among, aren’t great whites, bull or tiger sharks, they are our own grey nurse sharks. 

Whitehaven Beach /Hamilton Island

The diving experience at South West Rocks, Coffs Harbour, and Lord Howe Island equals the thrill of the Great Barrier Reef and Hamilton Island. 

Coral on Great Barrier Reef

We all know how amazing a swim there can be. Don’t worry about the irikanji or the salt water crocs… 
Diving is a wonderful adventure further south… all year round. 

Worth a trip Downunder all on its own. Diving through FishRock Cave and emerging through the Heavenly Window to be among fifty friendly sharks has to go on your ‘bucket list’.

Another confusing concept tourists come up against here in Oz, is distance.

 “Just down the road…”  Probably doesn’t mean what you think it means.

 When Dad says he’ll check the front gate and he’s gone for the day, gives an example of the size of properties ‘out back’. 

An outback station can be the size of Texas. Driving between towns means driving through what appears to be empty tracts of land. For hours and hours and hours. 

If you want to experience the distance safely and in comfort try a trip from Sydney to Perth on the Indian Pacific train. First class travel, air conditioned comfort as you cross the continent. Three days to experience the vast distances. Or travel from Adelaide to Darwin on the Ghan. This trip gives you the feeling of true desert distances. Even on the coast the empty land between towns can surprise tourists from Europe.

Visit Alice Springs, walk the ToddRiver. The dry river bed lies six feet above the river. It runs underground. Now, what’s confusing about that? Makes sense when the temperature above ground averages86deg F most of the year.

The Flying Doctor Service, the life line for those living in the north, has headquarters in Alice. The map in the base shows the country they cover. Six faint outlines of Great Britain lie within area marked as the scope of the Alice Springs base. Three or four planes take care of all the people living within that region.

Even on the coast, tourists mistake distances. 

No, you aren’t going to drive to Cairns from Sydney in one day. Sydney to Brisbane sure… allow twelve hours. 

You will want to stop at Byron Bay for a look at the lighthouse and a swim. 

Or break your trip after five hours and stop at Coffs over night. If it’s winter, take a whale watching trip out of the Harbour and enjoy the Pacific Ocean in all its glory. 
The whales never fail to entertain.

We eat tea, keep chooks in the backyard, boil the billy for a drink, throw snags on the bbq, spin yarns to confuse tourists and love our country with a passion. 

Wanna hear a yarn? Ask about drop bears… tree funnel webs… or a bridge for sale in Sydney!!

Damn, looking up the tree funnel web… seems the stories told around the campfire were true. I will be more careful next time I venture into the backyard paddock where I used to live!

 Ask me about our biting ants… and discover where the inspiration for the Tarack in my Science fiction Fantasy novels The Chronicles of Caleath comes from!

Right you are, hope these few snippets of information straightens a few things out for you… see you soon!

INTO THE DARK. Romantic Suspense by Stacy Green

Into the Dark by Stacy Green... a Romantic Suspense
Creme de la Cover competition... please take a moment to vote...

Into the Dark is doing well, but could use your support.

Suspense Romance

A two-hundred-mile labyrinth of dark storm drains serves as refuge for the delusional stalker who will go to any lengths to possess fragile, emotionally isolated Emilie Davis. To survive, Emilie will have to confront the secrets of her past she has kept locked away from everyone, including herself.

Emilie is a master escape artist—she’s fled a manipulative mother and a controlling ex-husband. But it’s impossible to evade a stalker who uses a bank robbery as a ruse to kidnap her. He’s still out there, hiding in the Las Vegas tunnels and dodging police. Emilie’s life careens out of control as her assailant continues his pursuit. She has nowhere to turn but to Nathan Madigan, the hostage negotiator who worked the robbery.

Nathan is haunted by his failure to protect a loved one fourteen years ago and has dedicated his life to saving others. Determined to catch the lunatic hunting Emilie, he finds himself losing his professional detachment. He fears history is about to repeat itself if he cannot protect Emilie from the Taker’s obsession.

The police close in on the Taker’s identity as Nathan and Emilie grow closer to each other and to resolving the misery of their own pasts. At the height of The Taker’s madness, his attempt to replace someone he’s lost will either kill them all or set them free.

Two Reviews for UNDERGROUND: The Day of The Sun

 First Review for 
UNDERGROUND: THE DAY OF THE SUN
 from Award Winning Author EDITH PARZEFALL 
FIVE STARS 

 I don't know how Rosalie Skinner does it. 

This is the sixth book in The Chronicles of Caleath, and still no moment of boredom. 
In Underground: The Darkest Day, she comes up with fantastic twists and introduces charming or chilling new characters that quickly whisked me away on Caleath's wondrous next journey.

Rosalie Skinner's beautiful prose is a treat, her imagination limitless but never out of bounds. Suspension of disbelief sets in immediately as her sci-fi fantasy world unfolds, offering new shades of dark and glimmers of hope. 

Can't wait for Adrift to be released. At the same time I'm starting to worry that soon these wonderful adventures might come to an end.

Review Received by Email from Ruth Williams
Oklahoma.

Rosalie ALWAYS creates a story in which you FEEL as if you are right there, every minute with Caleath, whether riding a horse, swimming, fighting for life or whatever. 

She has been my favourite FANTASY writer for years. I've read every book she has published, including those not yet in the public view, and it seems she NEVER lets the suspense fail in each book she has written. 

No boredom moments where you have to make yourself read through in order not to lose some important event. Want to get out of this world for awhile?

Go get Rosalie Skinner's CHRONICLES OF CALEATH!
The PERFECT answer!

LONG EXCERPT from UNDERGROUND: The Day of the Sun

Now available for PRE ORDER... save 20 %

Underground: The Day of the Sun Book Six in the Chronicles of Caleath.

The scent of death, a shrill wail of fury, and the icy caress of fetid breath hit him. The hammering of pressure building against his flesh brought him to a halt. He cried out, spinning to seek the source of impending threat. His hand dropped to grasp his sword but he no longer bore a weapon. Searching through the mines, he saw no need for extra weight and encumbrance. Now he missed the feel of steel in his hand. While the Aruven people watched him as if he had lost his mind, Caleath glanced around, seeking a weapon.

The feeling of encroaching danger increased. Caleath shouted a warning to Raul before he started to sprint toward the barbarian. Two solid pieces of firewood caught his eye. When he passed the fireplace, he grabbed them. At a run, he leapt onto a large boulder and launched himself through the air, twisting when he landed, to cover Raul’s back.

From the ground beneath the feet of the Aruven crowd, creatures emerged. Chitinous carapaces, armored legs, and sharp pincers flailed in a blind search until the dirt fell from smooth surfaces. Black scorpions the size of large hounds scampered across the ground and down the walls of the cave.

“You expect company?” Caleath shoved one makeshift club into Raul’s hands.

Raul grabbed Caleath’s offered weapon and began to swing as the strange creatures surged out of the cave floor and moved toward him. “Scorpions?”

“Looks like!”

“Adder’s spit. Look out!”

Caleath smashed his club onto an armored claw. Above him, a poisonous appendage arched and speared toward him.

He lifted his club. With a wild swing he severed the end of the scorpion’s tail. The creature wailed but offered no further danger. Caleath turned to face a dozen more emerging from the dirt. All converged upon Raul.

“Sorcery?” Raul dispatched another creature with desperate strength rather than skill.

“What else?” Caleath timed his answer between blows. “Where is the wizard?”

The Aruven crowd scattered. Weapons appeared. Those able to wield a blade or swing a club defended themselves. Men and women joined the fray. Blades cleaved armored shells. Burning brands kept the creatures at bay. Others used heavy clubs to smash the huge insects into pulp. The numbers didn’t diminish. More of the black carapaces rose from the dirt. For every creature the Aruven fighters killed, another took its place.

Caleath drew a breath. He could feel no telltale crawl of his skin, indicating the use of sorcery. Troubled by the anomaly, he hesitated between blows. Raul’s shout of warning brought him to his senses. He swung his club when one of the creatures caught his ankle between razor sharp pincers. Heavy wood glanced off the armored claw.

With his leg wrenched from beneath him, Caleath lost his balance. Three scorpions surged toward him, snatching at his limbs. He flailed with his club as he fell, beating off their attack.

Raul bellowed. The rattle of insect armor drowned his warning. A plethora of scorpions charged toward them. The barbarian’s curse reached Caleath through the high-pitched wail as the creatures sensed victory.

Caleath needed help. Inadequate mage training meant he didn’t have the skill to conjure spells without time for concentration. Willpower to wield forces beyond his understanding could not guarantee results or damage management. The price of using sorcery also limited his enthusiasm. Within him, a nest of evil vipers writhed, waiting for a moment of weakness when they could unleash dark magic and make him their pawn. Already carrying the title of renegade he knew the lure of dire power. Caleath left his request until he held no hope of overpowering the enemy by other means.

Desperate, Caleath called on the energy offered by the power of the elements, air, earth, water, and fire. He threw restraint to the wind and lashed out with fell forces.

Energy surged through his body. The air cracked with sorcery. The Powers answered his plea. Caleath’s hair lifted as the cavern pulsed with the energy of a lightning bolt and shook with the rumble of thunder.

Scorpions vanished, dispersed in a cloud of dust. The noxious scent of poison filled the air but dire battles ended in a puff of dust. Beneath his feet, the ground shook more than his trembling limbs. Caleath glanced toward Raul.

“You?” Raul grasped Caleath’s hand and hauled him to his feet as the Aruven fighters rushed for the cave entrance. The awful groan as rock struggled to balance energy forces made men yowl. Percussion tortured eardrums as air exploded from the deeper caves.

Offering support as Caleath tested his injured ankle, Raul dragged him after the panicked throng. Together they made their exit from the tortured mountain.

Once clear of the entrance people slowed, turning to watch clouds of dust and rubble billow from the mouth of the cave system.

“Dragon’s blood,” Caleath groaned, as the miasma settled. He collapsed to the ground and buried his head in his hands.

“Did you have a choice?” Raul dropped to his haunches. Caleath appreciated Raul’s perception. The Ruak native understood his aversion to using any magic, benign, or otherwise.

“Those constructs are not created by sorcery, Rami’san. I would know if they were.” Caleath took a deep breath. “Be thankful for their demise and give me time to consider what is going on. I know Nasith is here somewhere. While you enjoy a godlike status, let’s use that to our advantage. I have a dreadful feeling I destroyed our way home.”

Exciting News and A Glimpse into 'Adrift: In Search of Memory'... should release in 2013

Breath caught in his throat as he continued to sink deep into the depths of ancient timber.

If he cried out, no one would hear. He bit his tongue until blood flowed. 

The taste of salt didn’t anchor him to reality when the cool ocean invited him to leave the hulk of dead wood and travel through mysterious depths.

     Curiosity snapped the last connection with his body. Tag’s spirit drifted on the ebb and flow of each wave while he explored the harbor floor. 

     Fish swam beside him. Through light deprived depths, thudding waves didn’t cover the sound of sand grinding against coral or the clatter of crustaceans scurrying into crevices as his spirit passed.

     When a shark turned to acknowledge a stranger’s presence Tag stretched to touch the creature’s mind.
    
     With the force of a whip crack the shark flicked a tapered tail.

The predator disappeared into deep water leaving him alone in the dark.

I can't wait to begin editing Caleath's sea faring adventures. They must wait a little longer.







Today I am excited because in less than a fortnight we will celebrate the release of UNDERGROUND: The Day of the Sun.

Not long now!

After the battle of Invaded, Caleath searches for his friends whisked underground, where magic is scorned and shackled.

He must rescue Raul and Nasith before the Day of the Sun. Beneath the artificial illumination of a strange red orb Caleath begins his journey plagued by relentless light.

Accepting custody of a confused young dread lord and guided by a feisty Gabrielle, Caleath struggles to unravel the conspiracy holding a  race in thrall.

His journey to rescue Nasith and save Raul from being sacrificed drives him into the hands if his enemy.




Video courtesy of Shark Views from Fish Rock Cave

EXILED: Autumn's Peril Glimpse...

CHAPTER ONE

Around him, floating debris stood testament to the death throes of The Albatross and her battle with Nature’s spite.

“Balls of a hairy goat!” The oath came with a surge of elation. Salvation lay beyond a final line of breakers. Caleath’s determination returned when he saw the fractured spar of the mizzen mast dumped on a narrow beach. He renewed his hold on a waterlogged barrel and struggled against the storm’s spent fury.

He gulped air before the next wave struck. The crashing foam tore the barrel from his grasp.

Without support, the weight of his companion’s body dragged him underwater. After keeping the blacksmith alive for so long, Caleath refused to lose him within sight of land.

Panic drove adrenaline through pulsing veins and gave him the strength to heave his burden to the surface. Despite salt water trying to fill his lungs, he remained afloat until the maelstrom dumped him onto solid ground.

Slumped on a beach beneath driving rain, he could not relax. With each successive wave, he lugged his companion’s body higher onto the shore. A greedy undertow dissolved the sand beneath his feet, but Caleath held ground against Nature’s fickle temper. Dragging air into tortured lungs, he waited for the next incoming surge.

Having survived the shipwreck, he hoped saving the life of his companion might serve toward providing redemption for the dark morass of his past.

A tumble of rocks offered protection from the wind. In their care, Caleath examined his shipmate. He cleaned a calloused finger, gritty with sand, and searched for a pulse or the telltale warmth of living flesh. Life pumped beneath clammy skin, and the smith still breathed in ragged spurts. With a sigh of satisfaction, Caleath relaxed.

Eyes closed. Fatigue plagued every cell of his body. To succumb to dreams before dawn meant facing the ghosts that haunted his nights. Instead, he mulled over the task ahead, concentrating on how he would escape this accursed planet.

Only then could he focus on revenge.

With a curse, he vowed to punish the man who abducted him and left him stranded on this world where sorcerers and slavery existed.

Anger warmed his blood while he contemplated how Ephraim would die.

* * * *
Despite his determination, sleep overwhelmed him but offered no peace of mind.
Scrutinized by the sightless eyes of drowned men, panic plagued his dreams. Hungry for vengeance and corrupted by the stench of watery decay, their angry spirits sought to destroy his sanity.

In his vision, strands of hair washed like seaweed across the disintegrating flesh of dead sailors. Tides of marine scavengers reduced humanity to bare bone and memory.

Ghostly accusations spread on the current to drown him in guilt. Lifeless skulls and partially devoured corpses of the recently drowned whispered curses. They laid the blame for their demise on his shoulders.

Fleshless fingers reached through the depths to draw him into Death’s grasp while
parasitic wraiths gnawed at his soul and his lungs filled with the fetor of a carnivore’s breath.

Caleath woke from the nightmare. Daylight drove barbs into his eyes, forcing him to blink before he could focus on the muzzle of a salivating wolf.

Fangs gleamed inches from his face and amber eyes regarded him without blinking.

Hunger, thirst, and the will to survive overcame any fear a wolf might evoke. Terror dissolved before a snarl. Caleath lifted an arm to fend off the creature’s curious approach. When the wolf backed away, hackle and tail raised, he knew the beast would not hinder his escape from this planet.

Nothing would ruin his chance of escape. Not an angry wolf, nor reoccurring
nightmares, nor Death herself could stop him while nanobots flowed in his bloodstream.

Two things struck him as unfortunate. The arm he tried to lift remained bound to his companion’s unconscious body. Sodden rope limited movement and brought the present situation into focus.

Memories roused. He managed to survive the shipwreck, spent days adrift in a storm-ridden ocean and succeeded in keeping the smith alive. Being one handed, now, was a minor problem.

A new menace needed sorting.

Stilling his racing heartbeat, Caleath focused on the weight of cold steel against the flesh of his neck. Heavy enough to draw blood the blade glinted in the sunlight. Caleath could see white knuckles strangling the sword’s hilt.

“Riante tol?” The voice of a young man trembled, but pressure applied to the blade emphasized each word. Caleath half closed his eyes. As if drifting off for a few seconds, he maneuvered his other hand to ensure nothing hampered its movement.

While the wolf stood close enough to share warmth, Caleath accessed data stored on microchips in his brain.

These implanted discs, the size of a single cell, carried information he collected during his lifetime. Able to download and utilize knowledge in an instant, he accessed languages, culture, or geography from across a dozen galaxies.

Technology from his home world stood him in good stead when he extracted the youth’s language from stored data. He drew on souvenirs of another galaxy, collected during his previous career as a surveyor of unexplored planets.

“You can call me…Caleath.” He survived the shipwreck, now he deserved a fresh start. His new persona tried to swallow, but a parched throat made the simple task difficult. Blistered lips bled from days in salt and sun. Coarse words drew a snarl from the wolf. “Call off your dog. I will not hurt you.”

The youth’s gaze flicked from the horizon to the cliffs. He seemed to want time to think.

The sword weighed heavy on Caleath’s neck while lines of anxiety creased the flesh around the boy’s eyes.

Before the youth made a decision, Caleath moved. His fist smashed against the wolf’s jaw.

The creature recoiled with a yelp. When the young man’s attention faltered, Caleath twisted one arm around the flat of the blade that rested across his neck.

His hand grasped the haft of the sword, while he used his bodyweight to lever the weapon free of the youth’s hand. Before he slammed the blade into the sand, out of harm’s way, Caleath used the sword to free himself from the rough hemp rope.
“You won’t need that. You’re likely to get hurt.” He brushed sand from his hands. “This man needs help.”

Recovering its dignity, the wolf growled and remained out of reach. The youth’s eyes widened and sweat beaded on his brow. His gaze dropped to his empty hands before he wiped them on his leggings.

“What is your name?” Caleath prompted conversation while he struggled to lift his companion. With a grunt, he managed to hoist the older man’s arm across his shoulder. Only then did he take stock of the youth’s homespun garments and ingeniously tailored skins.

From bare feet to his head of sandy hair the boy exuded health and vitality. His expression seemed honest and unused to the shadow of fear that haunted his brow.

Green eyes glinted in the dawn light while the youth watched Caleath.

“Gwilt. My name is Gwilt.”

Glancing at the boy’s bare feet Caleath nodded.

“You live near here. Help me get this man to shelter and you can have any of the bounty we can salvage.”

“I could have killed you.” Gwilt shaded his eyes as he scanned the strewn wreckage. “So this could all have been mine anyhow.”

Caleath perused the storm torn headland where he crawled ashore. Wooden chests, barrels, and shattered wreckage from The Albatross littered the beach.
With a smile, he hoisted his burden higher. The boy might have been right, only Caleath did not intend to die, nor would he allow his companion to come to harm.

“You might find my death a little hard to arrange. You missed the opportunity, Gwilt.” Caleath took a tentative step. “I take your point though. I shall rely on your generosity.” As he shifted his weight, pain ripped across his back and cramps from starvation made him stagger.

The older man slid from his grasp and Caleath doubled over fighting the pain. The startled wolf lunged forward, drawing a curse from Caleath’s cracked lips.

“Cyd. No!” Before the creature connected with flesh, Gwilt grabbed its thick fur.
 Caleath took a moment to recover. He lifted himself, trying to make light his weakness by scuffing the soft sand and debris snagging his feet.

The youth seemed to appraise every movement. When Gwilt released the animal, he cast his gaze over Caleath’s clothing. Feeling naked before such scrutiny, Caleath brushed accumulated sand from his attire. He tugged the sleeve of his shirt and coat to cover an implant lying beneath the skin of his forearm.
If the boy shared the wolf’s distrust… No, the idea did not bear thinking about.
On a good day, he knew he appeared unkempt and he had heard the intensity of his gaze, alone, could be frightening.

Sand shifted beneath his bare feet as he adjusted tattered leggings dragged awry when the smith slumped against him. He shrugged the coarse hemp shirt he wore higher onto his shoulders. Days in the water reduced the garment to little more than rags and his coat had seen better days. Salt encrusted the clothes he wore. Stained, torn, and too large for his slight frame, they told a sorry tale.

Matted blond hair fell across eyes, once described as the color of an ocean on a sultry day.

Exposed flesh on Caleath’s ankles and wrists showed recent injury and caused the youth’s expression to narrow while tight creases tugged at the corners of his eyes. Caleath tried to appear unconcerned. He could not afford the youth reneging on his offer of aid. A sudden impatient energy spurred him into action.

“Come on, Chesney.” Caleath identified his companion, negating the need for introductions.

Again, he struggled to lift the other man.

Chesney, in contrast to Caleath’s ragged garb, dressed well. He wore a linen shirt,
embroidered waistcoat and leather leggings. Brass buttons decorated his shirt and a tooled belt complimented his fancy vest. Gwilt’s soft intake of breath showed he appreciated the quality of Chesney’s garments. The old man’s boots alone would fetch, with a little restoration, more than a full-grown boar.

A much larger man, older, with a rotund gut, his clothes bore days in the ocean without serious damage. Gray hair contrasted with skin burnt bright red from the sun. On exposed extremities sunburned blisters wept. A coarse beard coated in dried salt obscured cracked and bleeding lips. The only sign of life from the smith, apart from the occasional groan, was a snail trail of dribble running across the man’s chin.

“Here, I’ll help you,” the boy offered, as if reaching a decision. “It’s a fair way. Will you make it?”

“Needs must.” Caleath accepted the boy’s help with unspoken relief. “Adder’s spit!” He fought to keep his feet. “I need food.” He spoke as a mantra to himself rather than for Gwilt’s benefit.

“We have plenty of food.” Gwilt wrinkled his nose. “Hot and filling.”

Measuring the boy in a glance, Caleath decided hunger did not create problems for the strapping youth. Nor did malnutrition ever give Chesney much grief, judging from the man’s weight grinding into his shoulder.

The wolf circled the strange trio as they started onto the beach. Although each step demanded resolve, Caleath took his share of Chesney’s weight. He dragged his companion in silence.

Blood from recent wounds spread warmth inside his shirt. Caleath’s bare feet squelched through damp sand where Gwilt guided them past piles of kelp strewn across the beach.

Negotiating through rocks and soft sand left Caleath breathless beyond caring.
Chesney groaned once and Caleath paused to adjust the man’s weight. He took a moment to catch his breath and survey the beach. A fickle wind brought the scent of damp earth, salt, kelp, and the rank stench of rotting flesh.

Two bodies lay wasted on the sand. A third floated like a bloated tick in the eddy of each wave. Distended flesh bubbled where maggots writhed beneath translucent skin. Jagged rocks flayed open wounds. The fetid stench of decomposing bowel ebbed and flowed with the tide.

Caleath gagged and made a silent vow to see the men buried before he rested.

At the end of the sweeping beach, a track wound around a rugged headland. Caleath met Gwilt’s unspoken question with a resigned shrug. With no other choice, he needed to face the cliff. The climb took longer and seemed more dangerous than it appeared from the beach.

Caleath struggled to keep on his feet. The wolf followed close, but he could find no extra energy to waste on cursing the creature.

With a final effort, he reached the summit. While Gwilt lowered Chesney to the ground, Caleath sank to his knees. A cold wind pummeled the headland, turning Chesney’s lips a shade of blue and the smith’s hands felt as cold as death. Caleath removed his coat; no longer concerned if Gwilt realized recent injuries came from a flogging.

If the young man still accepted his presence without feeling threatened, the future boded well. He wrapped the tattered fabric of his jacket around Chesney and shivered when the gale tried to tear the shirt from his back. He could see good sense in Gwilt’s already dry skins. The boy seemed not to feel the cold.

“How far now?” Caleath could not stop his teeth chattering. Gwilt scrambled to his feet, grabbed Chesney and lifted him without effort. He gestured with his chin to a hut snuggled into the lee of the cliff.

“You go on ahead. I can manage your friend.” Gwilt started forward. “You obviously need your strength.”

With a nod, Caleath accepted the youth’s help. He did not have the energy to question the boy’s hospitality. He would cope with with whatever motivated the youth later.

********

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