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Mats. “I didn't see anything.”
    â€œIt's gone,” she said, excitedly. “But he didn't look anything like the skraelings that attacked our village. His face was such a dark red.”
    Thorfinn nodded. “Aye, you saw him all right. This tribe stains their skin with some sort of red pigment. Can't tell for sure, however. I've never met one face to face. They're like ghosts. You catch a glimpse of one, but only for a second. Then they disappear. I've never met natives like them. Curious about us, but extremely shy.”
    Kiera pointed. “Look! There's another one!”
    Another red face popped out of the shadows further ahead and to the side of a large outcrop of granite. The head didn't move, but Kiera could almost feel the eyes tracking the ship. Wait, not the ship. She swore that the eyes were tracking her! But before she could investigate further, the native vanished.
    The game of “Spot the Skraeling” carried on for the next half-hour. A face would suddenly appear among the bushes and rocks along the shore, and the crew would burst into a frenzied shouting match, debating who had spotted the red native first. The game helped to break the monotony of the day. A count had been started to see who had the keenest eyesight.
    Using the rudder, Thorfinn turned the bow into the wind as he prepared to pass beyond the famous southwest point of the island. The game was ended as the crew adjusted the sails for the change in attack. Thorfinn smiled proudly as he watched them work as one. Given the short length of time he'd had to train the crew, it was a minor miracle that the voyage had progressed so smoothly.
    Then, as the point drifted past and the south opened up into a wide vista of endless ocean, Thorfinn gasped in horror. His eyes were transfixed upon a distant black curtain of darkness that was sweeping the sea into a frenzied froth. The blistering edge of a darkened weather front was moving across the ocean at an incredible speed. The tempest was heading directly towards them.
    â€œLower the sail! Oars in the water! Mats! Kiera! Get that sail down now!”
    Thorfinn glanced from the approaching storm front to the top of the sail that was slowly sliding in spurts down the mast. He timed the effort and looked back at the approaching curtain of death. It was going to be close. If the storm hit with the sail up, they would all be dead.
    The bow was still pointing west, and the storm was coming at them from the south. They had to move the bow directly into the storm or risk capsizing.
    â€œStarboard oars! In the water! Pull for your life! Hurry!”
    Kiera and Mats glanced at the approaching wall of cloud that threatened to destroy them. The wind began to whip and swirl around their legs. It was about to hit. They knew that the next few seconds would decide if they would live or die. They had to secure the sail.
    They worked the ropes feverishly, lowering the top boom until the great square sail rested upon the lower boom. The bunched-up cloth was already starting to thrash frantically against their working hands. Mats and Kiera flung short ropes around the circumference of the sail and booms, lashing them together to prevent the wind from attacking the cloth.
    The boat began to heave violently in the towering waves. Kiera lost her balance on the pitching deck as she and Mats tried to retreat to their seats.
    â€œWell done!” shouted Thorfinn over the ominous thunder of the wind and waves. “Quickly! Tie off the sail lines, then brace yourselves! It's about to hit!”
    Kiera quickly looped the rope around the stay next to her seat then hunkered down low against the railing.
    The storm was upon them.
    Now deep within the throat of the tempest, the wind screamed into the tiny vessel, tearing at every sailor on board the ship. An arcing tongue of lightning licked across the sky. The tremendous crash of thunder that followed had Kiera thinking that the entire earth had just been