It was cold around the Winter Islands in the north of Pravum, but the sun shone, and the sea gleamed and shimmered. The unusual conditions gave the sailors a break from the battling against heavy waves, and crashing rain. On the deck were loose nets and pieces of rope, untied to the sides of the little wooden boat. Their catches had been good for the day.
The fishermen had woken up before daybreak, ready for an entire days’ catch. Within the first hour, catching had been successful, with half of the net already full, the captain worried about whether they had enough space to fit their days’ catch in the hold. The heat of the sun meant that their usual winter clothes were too much to wear throughout the day, but became chilled when they stopped working, especially when the wind dropped, and the sails flapped and danced around untidily.
For a few hours, the fishermen drifted in the Winter seas, with the high, shear, and rocky coastline of the Winter Islands on the horizon. It would not be for another three hours until they would return home. Even longer if the wind didn’t pick-up. The oars would have to be dragged from the hull of the boat, and the fishermen would have to row their way back.
Eventually, the wind picked-up, and the crew went back home to sell their catch. A good sail.