General
The long ship turned with a sweep of the oars and drifted toward them.
Out of the breeze, the sail flapped like an old shawl. The red stripes were clear against the silt brown of the river. Sunlight glinted off the knobs of metal pounded into each black shield, piled in the bottom of the ship. Leather helmets and leather straps covered the invaders' faces, shading their eyes.
One sweep of the oars brought the ship to the beach.
I feel his hand twitch and twitch again. I put both my hands around his. And then, just a tiny bit, it opens. Then a bit more, and I feel something drop out of it, small, hard, hot in my palm. A key. I can tell without even looking.