Six days after leaving Stad on their southward journey, the low, dark islands of Hollkoppevik came into view on the horizon. They were nothing more than a group of jagged, sea-battered skerries painted white with bird s**t, but they brought a smile to Hakon"s face nevertheless.
It had been a mentally and physically difficult journey south. The strong southerly that had forced them to seek shelter at Shadow Haven continued for half the voyage. Though they were able to navigate the network of channels that defined the western coast of the North, it did little to protect them from the swells or the wind that hammered their hulls. It often felt as if the men pulled at the oars only to ensure they did not glide backward in the water. At night, they lay at anchor in whatever bay they could find
