Ahead, the stygian waters blink puddles and paths of moonlight as clouds scud across the heavens, trailing wisps over the moon. The ships' hull rises up, then down, with loud, creaking shudders as swells in the waves rock the boat. The wind has decided to pick up. Asleep on the deck is Capt. Deb dreaming restlessly of bilge rats; Ppearl lays wide-eyed against a lifeboat as another puffie heaves the deck. She is still holding onto a staunchion; Arushi has curled up against a pile of ropes on the deck and is humming fragments of "what wouldja do wiv a drunken sailor" although at a lesser volume than during the height of their party earlier that night; Headcase is asleep nearby, and can be heard mumbling about umbrellas and rum, now and again sitting up and shouting out "Baja" before slumping back onto the planks and sinking into a stupor. Dreams of canaries warble over the sleeping bodies on the deck.
Laz stands thoughtful, eyeing the horizon through the dark, straining to see through the shifting strands of light. He hears a sudden rush of sound, then a pause in the noise, and fearfully glances up. Twenty feet above Laz is the biggest, darkest wingspan of a bird that he has never seen before. Skinny talons and long legs dangle down and almost snag his head as the creature brushes past and, then, in a rapid beating of wings, turns and hovers lower, lower and lower above Laz...
Then....
