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It didn’t feel like it should be the same day. The sun was shining, the rain from before had cleared up, and for once they had blue skies, but the faint tint of smoke on the air was a constant reminder of the morning’s events. No one was talking about it.

The bombs were still falling, louder and louder by the moment. Down in the basement, Owain had lost all sense of time.

Owain stared at the empty space where the boat, The Salmon’s Head, should have been. The rain was heavy, but not enough to obscure an entire trawler, and Salmon Ed and his crew were known for being loud in the mornings. The Harrands, their head family, had dealt with many complaints for the noisy crew.

There’s this blue house, it serves as a town hall, at one point a school, always a church, or a theatre, or a market. It’s a building of many uses, but its lower floor has always been living quarters.