The Journeymen traveled far and wide, to every corner of the world. A year later, they were still sailing on the ocean. Wolfrie was sick of the sea, the constant tasks the Captain set him to do and the crewmen’s gibe and brickbats. He couldn’t understand why he had to mop the main dock everyday when it was constantly getting wet by the sea. When he wasn’t mopping the deck, he was mopping the forecastle or peeling potatoes down in the small kitchen. When he wasn’t being ordered by the Captain, the cook was barking out commands.
At night, was the only time Wolfrie had time to himself. He slept in the hold on a hammock. Sometimes, he would look out the porthole, up at the stars that would twinkle in the dark sky. Boy, did he dream of being a sorcerer. He sighed with sadness. Maybe someday, someway, somehow, it could be possible. With that final thought, he fell asleep, dreaming of magic.
By the second year, Captain Storm, finally landed the ship on a island. The Captain and crew, disembarked, headed to the island’s only tavern. Wolfrie saw his opportunity. When he was sure they were too drunk to notice him, he ran to the other side of the island where he found a cave and hid. By morning the crew couldn’t find Wolfrie. The Captain was furious and set to sea without him. The Captain vowed to find him. That, he was sure of.
When Wolfrie saw the ship disappear, he felt safe enough to go back to the pier, searching for a boat. Soon enough, he saw a floating row boat tied by itself on a post. He quickly untied the boat and without making a sound, he pushed the boat to the sea, jumped in and began to row. http://www.ontalkingterms.com/