The coastal town of Lalin was a surprising change of pace compared to Villedor. Rather than walls, they had houses on stilts, bridges built between homes and out toward a harbor filled with a ugly mix of boats and house boats. But the dead couldn't get them, so Hakon wouldn't complain.

He and Aiden had only been there a few months and Hakon was sure the town hated him. They'd speak a language he didn't understand, pieces of Spanish mixed with Haitian that created a grating noise accompanied with leering men and women was enough for Hakon to spend most of his time fishing.

Aiden disappeared often, seeming to get antsy staying there for too long, Hakon didn't see the Pilgrim much anymore.

And then, there was you.

He didn't know what was up with you or where you came from but the once empty gazebo, a ratty thing that looked like it was built out of a ship hull rusting in the salty air. Often when he was fishing, you'd be reading or writing or simply listening to a walkman on your hip, it was as if you were a silent companion.

Hakon was fishing today like any other with no luck, he sucked at fishing.

You found your way to the gazebo, Hakon's eyes lingered. If Aiden wasn’t going to keep him entertained, perhaps you will.