The Cleave

One of the crew fell in the Cleave, swallowed by the ice and mist below. Perhaps he shall catch up to us… but I do not think our trail will be easily found. We cannot spare the time to search for him or wait for him – no one even asks the question as to whether we will, we simply continue our march. I remind myself the Heretic's hands remain shackled. At times, I think I remind him out loud, though the wind swallows my words, he still seems to hear and nod, as if agreeing that yes, I hold the key to his fate. Isabella