For fourteen days, Cwenburg, Æthelflæd, and Leofwynn flew through the skies. They avoided cities and towns, stopping only to eat, gather ingredients, and sleep, except for Cwenburg, who slept perfectly fine clinging to the serpentine mount.
A MAN'S DREAM
The smell of the sea drew the three of them in.
And when the winged serpent left them on the sand, they ran towards the waves:
— The sea! — they repeated, splashing water at each other, and played hand in hand, spinning and laughing, and diving, as if they had all the time in the world.
— I am infinite! — Æthelflæd jumped on Cwenburg, who leaned in, adoring the closeness. She rubbed her little face against the human's warm cheek and touched her lightly with her horn. Only Leofwynn had felt the same way.
Leofwynn felt neither envy nor jealousy, for she was a good person. She felt glad, for she realized then that the trio was now inseparable.
He was already there, like a shadow, amidst the evening mist.
The trio set up camp, and he remained there, atop the rocks.
The trio ate dinner, and the man did not move.
He looked at the ocean, at the waves breaking against the rocks. He had a focused expression, like someone who knows something about themselves that no one else will ever discover. He exuded mystery and solitude.
— Go talk to the old man. — Leofwynn became annoyed in the middle of the night, for the old man sitting on the rocks hadn't moved an inch.
Æthelflæd was mixing a certain powder into a drink and warming it over the campfire when she looked in the direction Leofwynn pointed.
— Damn it! There's an old man over there!
— You hadn't seen him yet?
— Of course not. I changed clothes here, and you didn't tell me!
— How could you not see an old man on top of a rock?
— How should I know? You go talk to him. I'm not going.
— Humans. Always weak. Fine. But, stand ready, he might be hostile.
— I am not hostile. — the old man murmured from atop the rocks, and the three turned to him. Even Cwenburg awoke to stare at him.
— Were you listening to everything? — Æthelflæd inquired warily. She had spoken a lot, even mentioning the Demon King, their agreement, and she had also mentioned the type of man that attracted her—the strong ones, the warriors, the physically powerful ones, someone who could break...
— Someone who could break you in half? — the old man repeated the words of the blushing human. — What kind of man is that?
— Fuck, Leofwynn, you didn't tell me someone was listening... — Æthelflæd whined, swallowing her pride.
— Do not worry, I will not tell anyone. If there is one thing I respect, it is a man's dream.
— I am not a man!
— I respect a woman's dream as well.
— And a vulcan's? — Leofwynn wanted to know.
— That too.
— And a little unicorn girl's? — Cwenburg got up and heard from the old man:
— But of course I respect a little unicorn girl's dream.
The three of them approached him.
The night was dark, and many clouds blocked the view of the stars. Even the asteroid ring was covered.
And even close, they could not see each other's faces.
— And what is your dream, old man?
— Well, vulcan, I have seen and sailed this sea, I fought against the Demon King, and buried those I loved. From the waves, I listened to the melodies. And I made my enemies' lives hell, oh yes, I knew how to sow terror. Good times. Days that will never return. I had many dreams, and I fulfilled many. Others, well, I changed, and the world changed. How could the dreams remain the same?
— Today, old man, what the hell is your dream today? — the vulcan was losing patience with the old man's delaying.
— Well, today, there is only one. The days are like sand on the beach of time. But something is immutable. Even time, which destroys and alters everything, cannot change this. It is mine. It is within me like an anchor; I am this ship floating on the ocean of existence...
— Just say your dream! — the vulcan exploded, fire in her red hair.
— Mermaid's breasts. That is my dream. A dreamer's dream... — he grabbed more of the rum, which he had been drinking all afternoon, and sang, repeating the same words softly, losing focus on the waters, and staring into nothingness — A lord who is his own lord, oh yes he is...
Leofwynn took Cwenburg and walked away without uttering a word.
Æthelflæd still drank with the old man throughout the early hours in the cold breeze.