Woodrat considered this to be a decent day.

The Sky overhead looked clear, with no Thunderheads in sight to worry about, and plenty of light coming down from Sky. A bored Thunderhead meant choppy waves and the constant threat of being electrocuted by a thunderbolt. Worse were the bastards that delighted in making it rain. The rain cooled off the smoke and the fish swam away, knowing what was coming. Being stuck on a small raft made of scrap wood, Woodrat couldn't get out of the way like the fish could. The rain would come down from Sky, sink into the smoke, and eventually get low enough to pick up some heat and turn to steam.

Woodrat had been on the Invincible when the ship had come across a small sloop that had been caught in a rainstorm. The ship was fine, but the crew had been cooked all the way through by the superheated rain. It wasn't a good way to die, not that Woodrat felt that any way was a good way. He had made his way back from death twice before and he'd vowed to never let it happen again. He could endure a lot, but not years chained to an oar on one of the big ships that sailed the deep smoke, slowly working their way up to the surface and another chance at life.

He turned his thoughts away from things like that. The Sky above was clear, and the smoke was like smooth glass. It would have been a great day for sailing, if he'd had even a scrap of sail. But making sailcloth took heat, and Woodrat was low on heat. Low on smoke and fuel as well. As the day was brightened from the Fire below and the Sky above him, he started the routine of getting a little stronger. Fishing had been good yesterday, and the named lamprey he had caught was good eating, with lots of fuel in it. He never wanted to face another smokesucker like that again, but he had to admit it was nice to have some solid food. The little fishies faded quick with little to eat, and hardly any smoke in them. Eating the last of the big lamprey increased his fuel by 30, and breathing in some of the smoke would give him another 12. That was double what he had eaten yesterday.

He moved as much of his fuel as he could into his furnace to increase his heat, and then burned more fuel, mixing it with heat to make smoke. It put him another step away from going cold and dying. Hopefully he could take another step today. Getting stronger gave him both a better chance at survival, and a better chance at a good spot in the crew of any ship that rescued him. The only place for the smoke-starved was chained to an oar.

Status Change: You have gotten stronger! A little more and you can begin the process of seeking promotion to Ship's Mate.

Smoke = 652/825 Heat = 57/575 Fuel =601/1200 Furnace = 0/13 Smoke Eating = 0/12

Time to start his daily chores. It was a short list: Put out a line to catch dinner, and take a nap waiting on a fish to take the bait. It wasn't long after he had spent a little smoke to make his hook and line and cast it out, that he started to hear something that scared the hell out of him.

There was a roaring high up where the smoke grew thin as a massive Cyclone dropped down from Sky into the Smoke. Woodrat was paralyzed with indecision for a minute as he saw the huge creature drop lower and lower. It was close! Close enough that he should use what heat he had left to get away from here! But it was also close enough that he would actually have first grab at whatever it dropped. Greed warred with survival, but eventually they joined forces and convinced him to start moving towards the Cyclone.

The decision was actually very simple. If it dropped something dangerous, or decided to go hunting for snacks, then he should be farther away. But getting away quickly would use up a lot of his heat. There wasn't really a good escape plan when you were adrift on the smoke sea with only a small raft between you and the waves. Losing all his heat was the same as death.

But it might drop something he could use. A chunk of hull from a destroyed sky ship, maybe a mast or some sail cloth. And there was a chance of getting fuel or food from Sky or elsewhere. A cyclone didn't dip this low unless it was dumping stuff into the smoke to lighten its load. It might even be one of the big ones that roamed not only Sky but the Convergence. Lots of cool stuff he could use in the convergence. And this one looked big enough.

Even as he was thinking, he was breathing out some smoke onto his oar, and shaping it into a mast anchored to one edge of the raft. The twelve-foot spar slanted across the raft at an angle. The chain from his fishing rod would do to anchor the sail to the mast. He ran the thin chain of smoke along the inside edge of the wood, sinking it into the outer part of the wood. He breathed out more smoke to make the second chain. He was going to be low after this, and he needed heat for the sail. The second chain was affixed to the top of the mast, hanging down. In the triangular space between the two chains, he shaped heat to form sailcloth. It wasn’t much, only a few square feet, but it would have enough push to get this raft over to where the Cyclone was beginning to drop things.

Status Change:

Smoke = 352/825 Heat = 37/575 Fuel =601/1200 Furnace = 0/13 Smoke Eating = 0/12

Slowly, then picking up speed, his raft moved over the grey waves of smoke. The sea was never this choppy unless some wind came down to blew it into waves. Black chunks of debris were dropping from the Cyclone now, into the waves below. Then larger pieces. He saw what looked like part of a ship or house fall into the waves and bob to the surface. With that much wood he could shape a proper craft. He just had to get to it, shape it, and get away with it. A ship might see the Cyclone and guess it was dropping something. The big ship Woodrat had been on was the only ship in this part of the sea worth sailing on, and it was in pieces now. Any others would chain him to the oar, or suck him dry.

More stuff fell, mostly pieces of burnt wood. Then a dozen blackened bodies. That worried him. Some of them might not be all dead. Dealing with the Charred was bad enough when you had other crew around you and weapons to fight them off. He only had a small club and a sharpened wood stick! Then something else dropped that surprised him; a live one! He knew it was alive because it yelled as it fell. It landed hard on the biggest chunk of debris. A stroke of luck, that. If he'd fallen in the smoke, he would have come up making noise. Noise would bring the Charred, and then they would notice the live one and Woodrat both. Probably not a live one now, that was a good fall. Sad, he almost made it to the Smoke. Or lucky, depending on how tough his walk back was.

The raft was coasting now. The Cyclone's roar fading as it flew back to Sky, its load of garbage dumped into the smoke. Woodrat was carefully gathering pieces of wood and piling them on his raft. He wanted the big piece of house. He could do a lot with that. A small burned cask floated by, sitting low in the smoke. Five gallons if it was an ounce. And heavy. Whatever was in it was still inside, despite the wood on one side being heavily burnt. Just as he was slowly edging up to the big chunk, the live one stirred and sat up, looking around and rubbing the back of his head. Woodrat was looking at the burnt bodies floating nearby, and trying to get the new guy's attention, praying he'd stay quiet.

"Bloody hell, that last step really hurt." He stood up and looked around. "Well, Toto, I have a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore! Oh, hey! Didn’t see you at first. Nice to meet you."

Seven of the bodies suddenly started moving, heads with burnt out eye sockets swiveling towards the noise. Ruined noses and mouths pulling in the air to catch the scent of the smoke of a living creature. They found it easily and started swimming across the choppy smoke towards the debris. Woodrat felt an overwhelming despair, and then anger. He'd been so close! And now the idiot was going to get them both killed.

Woodrat sighed. The first person he met since the shipwreck was a chatty new guy who was going to get them both killed. “Oh, great to meet you too! And there’s a big group of dead people that want to meet you as well. What ever you do, don’t let them bite you. They’ll suck you dry and make you one of them.”