First Crest

Everything was still until a small hum ran through my hull. My bow lifted slightly. Beneath me lay a vast expanse of blue and yellow fabric, bunching into textured waves. I leaned forward and pushed against the cloth. With a soft scrape, I glided down the gentle slope of a blue fold, nudging directly into the edge of a bright yellow floral crease. My hull held firm against the obstacle, settling neatly into the valley between the ripples. I can steer. The course is open.