“I did, milord.” The earnest-faced fisherman stepped forward, looking vaguely embarrassed.
Einarr nodded, curious as to why the man would be embarrassed – but now was not the time. “Good job. Keep it up. Do we have the tools you’ll need?”
The yellow-haired man straightened. “I believe so, milord. Got the basics, anyway. Anything else we should be able to improvise, although it’d be nice to have the shed for working in.”
Einarr frowned, considering anew, then shook his head. “I think we’d lose more time bringing it here than we’d save. Unless that storm did more damage than I think it did… Has anyone found a cart yet?”
Erik shrugged. “Not that I know of. You might check with Arkja.”
Einarr grunted acknowledgment. “All right. Good plan. I’ll go do that. Runa?”
She hummed at him, as though her mind had been elsewhere.
“Want to come help me look…
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