“What’s this?” Erik paused to look back at Einarr.
“Stop and listen a minute. Hear that?”
After a moment, a growl came from low in Erik’s throat. “Better us than the repair crew.”
Einarr nodded and pushed forward. Father and Bardr, at least, needed to know, and the rest probably should as well. Jorir, at minimum. Everyone whose attention he caught he gestured at his ear. Listen.
Stigander was near the front of the group, paused near a somewhat less rotted-looking ship than most of the others on this section of beach.
“Father,” Einarr said from behind the man’s shoulder. When Stigander’s only response was a turned head and a raised eyebrow, he continued. “We’re approaching the kalalintu flock.”
“You’re sure?”
“Erik heard them, too.”
Stigander nodded. “Spread the word that every man is to have his cotton balls to hand.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Once you’re done, get back up here…
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