Lewin, sensing that they were all now well on their way, looked to the horizon in front. At least they wouldn't die today. The boat was swift and the two escapee slave sailors did indeed know their trade. They looked much more fit than the average slave, too; on a ship, there can be no escape, and in that case you just as might keep your slaves in shape. because of that, they were making good time. Lewin looked up, towards the sun, staring at it for the longest time. It did not sting his eyes, for he and the sun were old friends. Under his breath, he chanted in his native tongue. This time, his dialect was so thick it would be all but incomprehensible, even to his kinsman. With his hand caressing the wood of the boat, the wind in his face and the occasional sea spray, all four elements were represented. And for the first time in quite some time, Lewin smiled despite himself.