It was Hope who first awoke. Their landing zone was dry and sandy, with little bits of boat surrounding them. Hope was observant enough to see the scavenger town in the distance, cobbled from driftwood and metal. She also saw a dark haired Ettin carrying a box. A box containing her luggage, with a lot of her husband and father’s belongings. She rushed over.
“Excuse me, Mister,” she greeted, “what’re you doing with our luggage?”
“It’s not yours,” the stranger responded.
“I said, it’s not yours. It’s mine. This box is mine, because it washed up on MY beach and I found it. That means it’s MINE.”
The beachcomber certainly made sense, from a certain view, but Hope wasn’t the kind who backed down.
“But something attacked our boat!” she protested, “we lost that stuff in the wreckage!”
The beachcomber gave a look of understanding.
“Oh! Borland hit you! Well, that’s different! Come, I’m going to take you and your friends to the Elder…”