“He watched the boatman tug on the oars and listened to the water drip from the wooden blades. The sun had sunk low, and the river’s haze darkened, but Harry could still just see the shapes of other boats in the distance, their sails fluttering, their funnels pumping out smoke. He tried to make out the names on their sides, the cargos they carried, but the sun was sinking too quickly. Only a little light remained, and Harry used it to look at the figure who was sitting beside him in the boat. ... Billie’s arms were wrapped around her knees. Her lips moved silently, and her gaze remained fixed on a point in the haze. Harry made out the same outcrop of land she had shown them earlier. Fisherman’s Point. “Took me in,” Billie muttered. “Cared for Ma, gave her medicine, gave her food, gave her everything. Wasn’t easy for them—they’re poor fishing folk, that’s all. But they’re good folk too, and that’s why they helped.” Her fists clenched.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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