Chapter 3
"Ingrid?" Thorbjorn said, calling my mind back from the gloomy place my thoughts had gone. I gave myself a little shake and then forced a smile.
"I'm good," I said. He gave me a skeptical look, and I knew if I didn't distract him he was going to start asking questions. And those answers were going to completely ruin the day he had put so much effort into. I had to find something more cheerful to say, and quick.
I looked down at the oar in my hands, its wood shining even more brightly golden in the morning sun. "Is this oar hand-carved? The end of it is like an animal claw or something."
"Everything is hand-carved," he said. "I helped with the mast mainly myself. It takes a particular kind of tree, and my brothers and I had to scour the forest to find the perfect candidate."
