Eighteen
The Isle of Lewis was flat, covered in greens and browns, grass and moss. The beach they had landed on looked like a postcard from the Caribbean, bright sand and turquoise water, not even a hint of the wild waters that had aggravated their journey up here. Abandoned roads lead past ruins of houses. The wind blew against their faces. The island looked completely deserted.
I gave them hope.
Strangely enough, Björn felt some kind of hope since the encounter with the whale, a sense of adventure that had befallen him despite the circumstances. They had made it to the island, hadn’t they? Now, he wanted to find out what all the fuss was about. He wanted to see what this Callanish was that kept roaming his thoughts day in, day out now.
Adama had grunted in the back of the boat as it
