The Star Streak hums on through the night, steady and sure. Below deck, the infirmary waits in pale lamplight, herbs hanging in dry bundles along the walls.
Emma stands beside the examination table and gestures Kael toward the stool, her posture all business, her gaze measuring and calm.
Kael Umal
Kael Umal moves to the table and sits, silent beneath the ship’s soft thrum.
Emma
Routine only. I want to check that the voyage is not taking more from you than it shows.
At the doorway, Sophie lingers in the corridor glow, red hair loose from the helm, while Maisie stands just behind her with a chart folded under one arm, both of them easing in after the long climb.
Maisie
Our course holds. A little longer and we clear the rough currents.
Sophie
The ship likes a firm hand tonight. It answers well.
Emma reaches for a linen cloth and the room settles into a rare pocket of quiet, all of them gathered around the same steady purpose.