They had packed everything for the trip. Both boards, food and drink, and a couple of Geiger counters. Whatever awaited them past the City, they were ready.
Their fur was bronzed like the hounds of old, the noble seafarers and waveriders of the Western shores. They lived in their swimwear and sandals, and their lone craving was that sweet, crystal water blue, capped in white foam, and towering above them as they raced towards and rode ashore.
All they had to do was get past Haven.
