I do not know how to drive a speedboat.
Also, I came up with a reason for Tamara's personality issues. What is it, you ask? Soon, my pretties, but not now.
Sorry it's so short. From here on, things are about to get connected.
I slept for a bit more. Nothing changed. Nobody came again. No Jacob.
Once I woke up, I realized that the ice had melted even more, so that I was about halfway free. I would be out of here soon.
Eventually.
But I was bored just sitting here. I swished my partially-free tongues against the ice for a while, watching the fog heat up and fade away.
Yep. Soon.
Other POV
Evan and Tamara said farewell to the old man, who was indeed named Old Mack, and set sail on something far nicer than a dinghy. The man evidently owned a midsize motorboat that he kept under a tarp, because this was what he'd lent them for their trip to Europe.
"There's no way we're getting this back to him," muttered Evan to Tamara as they left the dock.
"Oh, we'll pay him back," said Tamara breezily, reclining in the driver's seat. She surveyed the controls. "So, how do you drive a boat anyway?" she asked.
Evan groaned, slumping in his seat. "Exactly, which is why a rowboat would be so much better," he sighed. "Our plan has so many issues that I'm surprised we're still on track."
Tamara shrugged cheerfully. "We'll see," she said, pressing a few buttons.
Evan threw up his hands. "'We'll see?'" he repeated. "What kind of response is that?"
Tamara was no longer listening. She floated the boat out a bit more, so that they were near the end of the lagoon, and gunned the engine. At once, the boat shot into the open ocean.
"Not so fast!" Evan shouted, steadying himself in his seat.
Tamara suddenly appeared frightened by the controls. "Sorry!" she said. "Maybe you should take a turn?"
Evan shook his head and said, "No way. I'd crash in five minutes." He noticed her wide eyes and softened. "Come on. Just a little slower."
Tamara tried once more. This time, she managed to get the boat to slowly gain speed.
In a moment, they were sailing over the Atlantic Ocean. Evan whooped, letting the salty wind blow back his dirty-blond hair.
"Is this the life or what, Tamara?"
Tamara was too busy steering to answer. She wasn't having fun at all. The sudden fear of sinking had wormed its way into her brain.
"We're doing this to find that Hollow," she reminded, not taking her eyes away from the ocean. We don't even have a permit! "And you are taking a turn doing this. We'll be at sea for at least a day. And yes, I know what you're thinking, we are crazy."
She paused. "Maybe that's how we'll win against the Wights."
I swear we'll really talk about Tamara next chapter. Promise. And our Hollow friend is about to get some more screen time, so don't fret.