Back to the Girdle

There is little need to remember the storm itself. Captain Munfred was a professional, and the Fisherwoman's Catch had four anchors. Madonna genuinely seemed to be distraught.

"I'm so close, husband. I'm so close. One more piece, and it's right there. She's right there and she's exposed, and it just can't end like this."

"I don't think we're even close to sinking." I said.

"They are gods. Do you understand that? They manipulate the weather; it's just a tool to them. I don't mind if it's after, I really don't. But not NOW. I just... I was made to do this, you understand?"

"I don't understand," I said, "but I accept." I held her, stroked her hair. "I only agreed not to stand in your way. But would you like it if I were there to watch?"

"No. Husband, you are already too close. Stay away. These are gods. You, of all people, know how vengeful they are. They'll probably kill you anyway, just for what you've done already."