Stephan inched to the edge of the raft. His new hooved feet slipped a bit on the rough-cut logs. He sat down and leaned to peer over the edge.

He had no idea how fast the airborne raft was moving. As the mist gave way to clouds, and then clouds to clear sky, Stephan saw only water below, with no landmarks to guide him.

The ocean itself was smooth and glassy. The breezes and gusts of wind that kept threatening to blow away Stephan’s hat seemed to be confined to the raft’s altitude. From horizon to horizon, there wasn’t a ship in sight. He would have settled for a canoe.

The rat Ficlet was asleep again. Or not. His eyes were closed. It was hard to tell.

—Ficlet? Stephan thought at him. The rat opened his eyes.

—Where are we going? Stephan asked.

—City. If a thought could sound like a grunt, that one certainly did. Ficlet yawned, scratched his belly, and turned over to expose his right side to the sun.

—But we might make a few stops, Ficlet added, in a slightly warmer tone.