Thank you Hetmon.

[twyce]

Late Afternoon, Dec 15, 2005

"We're lost aren't we?"

The pair was indeed lost, unfortunately both had different idea's about what being lost actually was. John from time to time protested that they were lost because they didn't know where they were while Hetmon countered that they were not lost because they full well knew where they were and that the only snag was that they weren't quite sure where that place was. John would try to explain to the small metallic digimon that that was still being lost, ufortunately Hetmon always got in first with the words "Well isn't that the point of exploring?". John found that there was little he could do against that since he had agreed to this outward bound exercise. So they walked on.

Some time later the pointless journey began to wear away at him and he began to pester Hetmon to stop and rest. The small digimon wanted to press onwards and John had little desire for another argument.

[twyce]

John breathlessy scrabbled up the small rise after Hetmon who had bounded up it without the slightest hint of effort. The small digimon sat watching his partner stuggle towards him and giggled quietly, the sight was indeed quite amusing for Hetmon since what seemed like such a chore for John was childsplay for him.

"Yes, thank you. Thats ever so helpful..." John grumbled as he staggered up next to the digimon.

"You really do need to get out more." was the chortling response.

"So where are we then?"

"At the beach."

The beach?", John, who had been lying face down in the grass waiting for the fatigue to pass lifted his head and stared at the sea that lay on the other side of the rise. "Did we do a full circle?"

"Nope. It's an island."

"Joy." John muttered dryly before burying his face in the grass again "Where are you going to drag me now? Back the way we came or around the coast?"

Hetmon shook his head spoke tenatively, John was evidently not going to like the idea. "I was thinking that we could go out to sea."

"How? You'd sink and I can swim very far." John definetly like the idea.

"We could build a raft...", Hetmon waited for a while for John to answer but he didn't, he probably didn't desire for the conversation to progress. "There's nothing here you know."

"Your point?"

"I mean we can't stay here. We'd be roughing it. Badly."

"I don't like badly. You know that"

"There won't be any more walking involved..."

"Can we eat first?"

"If you like"

"Ok. I'm sold"



About twenty minutes later Hetmon was chasing fish in the shallows and John was poking a small fire with a stick. John wasn’t actually averse to ‘roughing it’ in the slightest, he’d spent his fair share of time ‘roughing It’, but Hetmon’s addition of the word ‘badly’ at the end of the phrase had quite securely discouraged him from the idea. As he sat there John began to think about the construction of the raft itself, it shouldn’t be too hard, wood, bindings, sap and a sail would really all that would be needed. The sail might prove difficult but he was confident they would be able to find something to serve that purpose. He was disturbed from his thoughts by a muffled greeting. Hetmon had returned from his efforts bearing a fish in his mouth and one in each paw, John noticed they’d been gutted too and grinned widely.

Before long they were fed and rested and it was time to construct their transporation.

[twyce]

John raised the rock one last time and brought it down hard on his target one last time. It sounded with a flat, dull ‘thunk’. He tossed the rock away as he stood to regard his work. The peg that he had just forced into a tight hole in one of the many logs that formed the raft secured the mast to the deck. Due to the simplicity of the operation the mast was fixed and would not move, hence to go any where the wind would always have to behind them, in the absence of wind Hetmon had carved out some uncomplicated oars which could either power the modest vessel or at least reposition in order to catch the wind that they might be missing.

“All done then?”. It was Hetmon that spoke as he dragged the ragged sail towards the raft, elements of which the pair had scavenged from around the island.

“Yep,” He replied, evidently satisfied “Be careful though. I’m not sure all the sap has dried up.”. Although Hetmon paid no heed to his words and bounded straight up the mast with the top of the sail in his jaws John felt no need to complain nor to scold. For the first time in quite a while he felt thoroughly content and calm in the knowledge that he had completed a daunting task in less than perfect circumstances.

“Right then. Prepare to set sail!” cried Hetmon as he slid swiftly down the mast. His good mood prompted John into joining the maritime style banter. He saluted and stood to mock attention “Aye Aye captain.”<br>

Not long passed before the shore grew small and distant. John’s mood remained despite a brief moment of concern when he had found that there was not a single morsel of food between them. His fears had been put to rest by Hetmon’s insistence that he could smell land not to far off. John, with his inferior senses, could not, instead he placed his well founded trust in Hetmon’s own faculties.

They sailed onwards. The journey was uneventful, neither fell in and they never crossed paths with anything larger than a seagull. Before long the coast line that Hetmon professed to have smelt now came into sight, first as a thickening of the horizon, then as a vague blur and finally the land mass began to take shape.

Under other circumstances John might have considered what was on that shore and beyond it and how much trouble it might have caused them but he was in a good mood and all that really concerned him at that point was a cloud which appeared to him as a double-decker bus.