Inflatable Boat in Cove of Lake Vortigern

The inflatable boat pitches gently but insistently as Prozorov and Sorin row toward the Cove’s treacherous archway, silent except for the swish of oars through inky water and the occasional groan of the fabric hull against internal pressure. Outside, a thick, pea-soup mist swirls up from the lake, muting the dragon’s carved prow half-submerged ahead until it looms like a ghost from another age. The air smells of damp wool and wet wood, of ancient cedar and war-era grease, while the mist clings to faces and rifles, turning metal cold to the touch. The boat’s rubberized floor flexes beneath their boots, its bright yellow panels stark against the surrounding murk. Slow, deliberate strokes are the only sign of human control here—everything else feels predetermined by the cove itself.