Meladee crossed a tundra, keeping her eyes ahead on a mountain, maybe an iceberg. From her distance, she couldn’t tell which it was. Sprigs of grass poked through the snow, but it was cold. Meladee wore her heavy coat, gloves, and a little fur hood. She’d been teased for the pointed wolf ears atop her head, but Meladee was warm and didn’t care if the other sailors thought her hood was too cute.

Come to think of it. Where were the other sailors?

Meladee looked behind her and saw tundra. To each side of her, she saw tundra. The only features on the land were the iceberg mountain and a small forest – both ahead.

Meladee shrugged. She was finished with other sailors anyway. She preferred different kinds of companions.

Meladee cast an orange circle. The rings and runes seemed hazy, and the result was only so effective. Still, she felt warm enough to feel that winter had gone, and spring was on the horizon.

Meladee resumed her walk. It seemed in a blink, she reached the forest. Again, she just shrugged and walked on.

The iceberg loomed taller, but Meladee pulled her eyes from its white crags to the snowy forest floor.

A white object thrashed about in the snow. Meladee started and took a step back. With wide eyes, she watched it.

White feathers and soon the shape of wings told Meladee that she saw a bird on the ground. The thrashing stopped, and a sad owl bent its head in defeat.

Meladee approached. The owl looked up with unusually expressive eyes – at least for an owl. Meladee decided it must be sad. She gazed into those eyes, and they sparkled, full of tears. Damn, was it sad.

A band wrapped around the owl’s leg, and Meladee knelt slow, by its side. Even slower, she reached for the owl’s leg. She untied the trap, thinking it had to be set with the cooperation of the owl. It was a tie and nothing more.

Meladee peeled the strings apart, and the owl was free.

She gave it a curt nod, got to her feet, and headed away. After a few steps, she looked back to find the owl walking in the snow behind her. It wobbled a few more paces; then stopped.

Meladee made a face, not one of disgust but one of disbelief. Again, she shrugged. If the owl wanted to be eternally grateful or whatever, who was she to stop it?

Meladee and the owl picked up the pace. Sometimes, the owl flew ahead and found a perch. It then waited for Meladee to catch up. Meladee rather liked having a sad owl for a friend, but something just seemed to be missing.

Meladee found what was missing with the help of the owl.

The owl flew many steps ahead and circled above a small clearing. Snow fell into the clearing and blanketed the wreck of a small sea boat. It was a sight, for sure, so far from the shore.

The owl perched on the sea boat’s rail and peered into the wreck. Meladee entered the clearing, and a few snowflakes took up residence in her eyelashes. She crunched over snow, and everything seemed muffled, even the light.

Meladee took a deep breath of cold air. It felt sharp in her nose, but she liked it.

Meladee knelt by the wreck. She couldn’t climb the old, decayed wood. Instead, she peered through a hole in the hull.

Inside the wreck sat a white fox. Its narrowed eyes and downward facing glower made it seem exceptionally annoyed. Meladee reached into the ship. The fox stared at her hand.

Meladee shrugged and withdrew her hand. She waved to the owl and strolled past the fox’s hiding place.

She wasn’t going to touch the animal, not when it wore that expression. Better to let it do its own thing.

She made a path over thickening snow, leaving a pair of footprints for every step forward. Meladee looked back.

As she guessed, the fox followed. It followed Meladee out of the woods to the open tundra, and then they were three.

Meladee led the fox on foot. The owl flew in figure eights, sure to leave neither below behind.

Meladee aimed for the iceberg. She liked the happy face that she saw waiting there. The mountain of ice had round cheeks, eyes shut tight in sleep, and a smile that wouldn’t quit.

Ahead of the iceberg, squat little houses dotted the shore, and beyond that was a sailing ship, its sails a bit of a ruin. The faces on the houses and the ruined ship proved less cheerful. Meladee didn’t really blame them. The town looked dead.

Beyond everything – town and iceberg and ships – was a great and unforgiving sea. It brought a smile to Meladee’s face.

She reached over to bump a friend’s arm, to make sure that friend shared the view. Where she expected to feel a slim limb and wool coat, she felt instead soft downy feather. She looked to her right and found her hand buried deep in the owl’s fluffy flank.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Meladee felt confusion on her face. She saw mild discomfort on the owl’s.

Then, the owl said, “Hoo!” and fluttered off the perch it had taken on a nearby fencepost.

Meladee couldn’t really say sorry, so she just shrugged. She checked the area by her feet and found the white fox, looking annoyed and a bit aloof.

Meladee had yet to pet that creature.

Meladee hiked into the town, with its squat houses, brown from age or just bad taste. “Poop houses” is what Meladee sometimes thought to call them. Their window eyes drooped, and their stoop mouths frowned. One or two sang a sad song, not together and not in harmony. They occupied opposite sides of the village, and each thought their folk ballad was superior.

The owl perched on a post and pulled its neck into its torso. The owl’s eyes twitched as the songs continued their discordant symphony. The fox hunched low.

Meladee thought it was pretty bad too, but she’d let one of the other buildings speak up. Some pretended to sleep. Others pretended to be in conversation with their neighbors. Not one house had the courage to say something about the song.

Meladee shivered.

The houses showed their personality, but no one walked between them, and at midday, someone should.

Meladee knew the place was abandoned. It left her an open route to the boats she saw bobbing along the shore. One squeezed its eyes shut, to ward off the cold, or a bad dream of being tethered too long to shore.

The largest boat reached for the sky, with rigging quite a bit higher than even the Rime Breaker’s. Of course, Meladee couldn’t take it. She had seen those sails from far off. Even from that distance, she saw their ruin. Meladee shaded her eyes and looked up to find the crow’s nest. Even with good sails, the boat would be un-sailable, with just a woman, an owl, and a fox.

Meladee needed to find a boat designed for them. Come to think of it, she should probably find a boat designed for one to sail. She wasn’t sure how much the owl or fox knew about sailing.

The second largest boat bumped the makeshift dock. It needed at least six people to sail. It pouted as Meladee strolled by.

Meladee just gave it a shrug.

The last boat was a mere canoe. Its mouth formed an O, and the little canoe chortled. She could take it, but it wouldn’t take her far.

Meladee tossed up her hands and let them slap her sides. She looked to the owl and found its big eyes staring back. She looked to the fox and found it waiting with slitted eyes. Meladee gestured to them both, as if to say what ideas do you guys have?

“Looking for a boat?” A man shouted.

Meladee froze. The noise came from ahead and belonged to a man of grey. He crunched over the ice. Soon he would greet her with a gloved hand, palm up and ready for payment.

Meladee watched him.

He stopped well away from her position. “There’s another boat in that shed.” He pointed to a covered dock, black and charred.

Meladee’s mouth fell open. She made a quick motion to the shed. The thing looked like shit, like it’d been in a fire.

“Uh, not sure what you mean, but I’m guessing you’re skeptical.” The man put his hands in his pockets and began to walk again. “It’s in there. You can see the shape through the windows, but I see a padlock on the door. Oh, and there are these things in the water.” The man stopped about five feet away. He kept his hands jammed in his pockets. “Sure is cold.”

She gave him her don’t come any closer or I’ll blow your dick off face. Meladee drew her magic gun to add weight to the threat.

He stepped back and raced his hands, palm out. “There’s no need for that. I’m just trying to help. I think that’s where you need to go.” He pointed again.

Meladee turned her cheek. She regarded her owl and her fox. They waited on her decision. Meladee nodded towards the shed. The owl took off for it, and the fox started walking. Meladee gave the man a don’t you dare follow me smile and headed for the shed herself.

The man rubbed the back of his neck. He did follow her, but only for a few steps. He stopped before she got to the shed.

Meladee glanced back at him.

“The lock has some kind of drawing on it. Colors – purple, orange and green – also some black,” he called. “Maybe a puzzle. I didn’t get a good look.”

Meladee frowned. She stomped on to the dock, and the wood creaked beneath her boots. She clomped her way to the shed door, and the sounds blocked out the creaking. Meladee couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. If she heard the creaking, she’d know when the dock gave way beneath her. If she didn’t hear it, she could be ignorant and surprised, till frozen water swallowed her.

The burned shed had closed eyes and a slack mouth. The sound of the winning ballad came on the air, and it suited the fate of the squat house before her.

Meladee took a moment to listen to the song. The only other sounds – the lap of water and the drawn out creaks of the deck, straining against the wind.

She reached for the door and grabbed a grubby padlock of metal. It filled her whole hand, and grease sloughed off onto her glove.

Meladee sneered, but she didn’t let the lock go. The grey man was right.

She needed three things to get into the shed. Three women it looked like. She saw the silhouetted profiles of a long-faced girl, with a straight nose and very straight hair. Another girl had long wavy hair and a medium-sized upturned nose. The two girls were pretty and all, probably why some man had stuck their likenesses on a lock. The third girl was her.

She was alright, but she didn’t think she was hot enough to be imprinted or whatever the locksmith had done to get the three faces on his creation.

And, truth be told, it was just so fucking creepy. What guy had all that time on his hands?

A creeper – that was who.

In any case, she didn’t have other girls with her. She was alone. She also wasn’t prepared to sacrifice any part of her body, and the lock seemed to want everything from the neck up.

Meladee glared at the grey man and shook her head.

He tried to look innocent. He was damn good at it. “Maybe, I could come over and check…” he called.

Meladee shook her head and drew her fingers across her mouth. He needed to be quiet. No way he was getting that boat. No way he didn’t know what was on the lock. He coaxed her over because he needed to find three girls. He recognized her, and he probably had a machete in his thick grey coat, perfect for beheading.

He stood quiet, far from the shed. Good.

Meladee stalked the coast and tried to glimpse the shed’s other side. Sand and snow crept up her boots, while water and some flakes of ice licked the soles.

The fox led the way. The owl flew back and forth in front of the shed.

When Meladee made the edge of the curving shore, she found herself just far enough to glimpse the shed’s ocean side. She smiled and nodded. The ocean side sat open.

Now, Meladee couldn’t go into the water. She’d freeze. She might cook up a warmth spell, but she’d need a drying spell too. No, she wouldn’t go to that effort to swim in. It would be hard to get into her new boat, even if she did find a comfortable way to swim. Meladee did not want to bob in the waves, beside a large boat, and the underwater docking mechanism.

Meladee waved at the owl. She pointed at the shed. She just knew that if she told the owl to go in, it would.

The owl swooped low and aimed for the shed opening.

The shed’s eyes finally opened. They grew wide, and the pupils rolled up and back, trying to see what lay behind. The mouth stretched. The shed showed its fear.

Something broke the waves and reached out of the water.

Meladee jumped.

“I told you there were things in the water!” the man called. “You need to work the lock. Can I look at it now?”

Meladee’s eyes flicked to him, but she didn’t have time to offer an answer.

As the spray cleared, Meladee saw the owl and a monstrous arm. The arm resembled that of an octopus and rose out of the water, exposed suckers and all, but on the end of the arm, waved a puppet of wood, devoid of any features, except for a badly painted face.

Meladee put a hand over her mouth. She tried to make magic, but her magic circle fizzled on the bobbing waves.

The fox jumped into the water and swam.

Meladee cried without sound, No. She chased the fox, partway into the water but not beyond the height of her boots.

“I’ll help – if you don’t shoot me.” The man dragged the canoe over snow to her part of the shoreline. “Come on.”

Meladee ran along the shore and took the other side of the boat. The boat no longer chortled. It tried to resist their pull, but of course, it had no arms. It was at their mercy and would soon be at the mercy of the sea and the monster as well.

Together, they pushed it into the waves. Meladee jumped into the floating canoe first. The man followed, rocking the boat much more than he needed.

Meladee picked up an oar and started to paddle. The man did the same.

Their boat cut the water ahead, and the octopus arm neared.

The fox struggled in the water, splashing foam into the waves. A puppet took shape beneath the deep. It stretched its arms up and rose below the fox. The wooden hands, shaped like mittens, met sodden fur. The fox jerked down. It fought to keep its head above water.

Meladee couldn’t spell. The magic just failed her, so she raised her paddle high and hit the puppet on the head. The man followed and cracked his paddle over another puppet’s head. They raised their paddles up; then brought them down. They slapped the water, beating the wooden monstrosities beneath.

Suddenly, the fox swam free. It tried to swim forward and outpace them, but the canoe pulled up alongside. Meladee swiped for the fox’s neck but missed as the boat shot past. The man, however, grabbed the fox by the scruff of its neck and pulled it aboard. Meladee blew out a breath of relief.

Then, she set her sights on the owl, the waving octopus arm, and the clinging puppet. The owl flapped in a circle. Wooden fingers pulled at its claws.

Wooden arms crested the edge of the canoe. Meladee and the man paused to beat both wooden fingers and wooden mittens clear of their ride.

A pattern formed. Stroke – smash – stroke – smash. Progress came slow.

The owl nipped the puppet’s fingers, then pumped its wings up, pulling the tentacle a bit out of the water. The tentacle pulled down, and the puppet maintained a strong grasp. The owl lost its headway skyward.

The pattern repeated once more. Stroke – smash. Then, Meladee was beside the octopus’ arm. She waited for the owl to attempt an escape again, and Meladee hit the tentacle with everything she had.

The owl burst free, and the tentacle sucked into the water. On the way down, the puppet’s arms clanged against the canoe’s edge.

The water bubbled, but it didn’t resurface.

“Alright, now we get back,” the man called.

Meladee paddled hard for shore, and so did the man.

One of them had to get out of the boat to pull it onto the snow-covered bank, and to Meladee’s surprise, the man hopped out and did the job.

It was very decent of him.

He breathed hard as he carried the annoyed fox towards the shed door. The owl waited for them atop the roof.

He held the fox out to Meladee. He gripped it beneath the front legs and let the back legs and tail dangle. “Take this.”

Meladee hugged the fox. She gathered up that furry rear and held it close.

“I’m going to look at the lock.” He grabbed the greasy thing and held it in two gloved hands. “Oh. I get it. You have everything you need.” He pointed to the fox. “Fox fur.” Then, he gazed skyward and pointed to the roof. “An owl’s feather. Your hair.”

Meladee glared.

“Just try. I can’t keep saving you.”

Meladee made a face of disgust.

Then, she pulled a knife from her boot. He flinched. She rolled her eyes and cut a piece of her hair. She handed it to him. He stuffed it in a hole, behind her picture. She trimmed some fur off the fox, and he put that beneath the long-faced girl. She gestured to the owl but found it already waiting for her on a dock post. It offered not a wing feather, but one of down from its breast. Meladee plucked it and stuffed it in the lock.

The lock fell to pieces, and Meladee’s mouth fell open.

“Thank the Mother Tree. Go ahead.”

Meladee turned to him. She felt like an ass. She spread her arms and gave him a rare face – how can I repay you?

He backed away. “Just get on the boat and go. Find Eva and Camellia. Stay with them.”

Eva and Camellia – of course.

Meladee turned to the boat to find it a thing of beautiful gold. A mermaid figurehead beckoned her aboard – literally.

Meladee awoke on the Halfmoon. Hard metal lay under her head. “Oh. I had the weirdest fucking dream. And, now I’m super stiff. You guys couldn’t even move me?”

“We thought it best to let you lie.” Camellia frowned. “I guess we didn’t really think of moving you.”

“We didn’t really notice you,” Eva corrected.

“Gee thanks. Well, what are we doing here?” Meladee sat up and rubbed her shoulder.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” Camellia said.

“Oh, damn. The confidence. Don’t shed a tear for me.” Meladee stood. “So, we running from Volanter still?”

“It’s very quiet,” Eva said.

“Hmmm. Well, I hope our ride gets here soon.” Meladee crossed her arms and searched for a more comfortable place to sit. “By the way,” she said over her shoulder. “You guys would make good pets.”