Swiftly he swam, slicing the water with strong strokes, heading up to the surface and the shore.
Reaching the surface, Balwyn turned round and round, but riotous waves rendered him powerless.
A great storm had grown, giant waves catching Balwyn in their grip, guiding him where, only Gaal knew.
Balwyn forfeited any fight to find the shore, instead fixed his full attention on staying afloat.
Lightning luridly lit, rain and wind lashed the leaping water.
On and on it raged, Balwyn only enduring by obeying our ancient oath to survive at all costs
Darkness descended, the cold water’s desire to drag Balwyn down into the deep grew stronger.
Balwyn sunk into its cold embrace, numb limbs idle, ready for the isolated ignorance of death.
Then a wave came, carrying him up and up, till it crashed into a colossal stone column.
With trouble, he tried to travel up the stone savior, tightly grasping the holds he could find.
The solitary plinth provided very precarious protection, but Balwyn finally passed a ledge
Jutting out just enough for Balwyn to join without being too jammed or jolted awake.
Curling up he collapsed into a complete rest, oblivious to the crashing waves and the crack of thunder
At first sight of Gaal, he awoke, a hunger gnawing at his insides, an alarming thirst attacking his throat
Below, the sea rested, though a rapid wind continued to ravage his roost, restricting movement.
Klara! –Balwyn howled, hurling a hungry fist at the hindering wind, hysteria having claimed him
The cruel goddess of the North noticed, the nasty wind dulled to a nearly nonexistent whisper.
In the shocking silence that followed, Balwyn sat, not sure of how to save himself.
He was unprotected, unable to escape, for under him was only the undulating sea, so he went up
Quickly he quit his ledge, questing for something to quaff, and some quarry to eat.
Little by little he lifted himself to the limits of the stone pillar, which steadily lost its girth.
There in the top was a nest, a tangle of tree branches and other types of torn detritus…