Friday morning
Day six
Jon watched the pale light of dawn filter through the trees and twist into wisps of fog that floated along a stream of water, then poured like lava over the cliff.
The stream's babbling rush was lost to the thunderous waves below. Far out at sea, a boat bobbed like a black cork on the pewter sea. Jon wondered if past wreckers had stood where he stood with their ill-guiding lanterns, to wait for ships to crumble on the straggles below.
Scruffy bushes lined the edge of the ravine. He knew his plants, having accidentally fallen in love (Can one accidentally fall in love?) with gardening after his mother begged him to plant vegetables for her. He never did things halfway, so he'd delved into all the garden manuals and books he could get his hands on and created a w
