[Firefoot]

Sondo was having difficulty getting a word in edgewise, which was perhaps a good thing because it had given him time to cool off. Quite honestly, he had not thought that Sam had it in him to apologize, though Bingo was mellow enough. He was, however, still extremely annoyed at how his adventure had started off, especially when the now-awakened Rory insulted his raft. Never mind that most of those present had helped build it - Sondo was quite protective, and glared at Rory accordingly.

He cleared his throat, and everyone turned their attention to him. “Yes, it would appear that everyone is fine,” he said in answer to Bingo’s earlier question. “But we can’t have something like this happen again. Any supplies that weren’t lashed down, which is basically everything anyone brought along today, were lost.” Here there were some sighs or disappointed groans. “We need to work together in this.” Everyone nodded their agreement, whether because they actually agreed or just didn’t want to argue, Sondo didn’t know. Sam and Bingo both looked properly penitent. “As for the raft,” continued Sondo with a withering glance at Rory, “just about any boat is going to tip if you want to tussle on it.”

Feeling better now that the situation was firmly under his control again, Sondo grinned. All had been forgiven, for now, and he was eager to get going again. “At least no serious damage was done. If we can get through this, we’ll just be even more prepared if anything else happens along the way. After all, what fun would an adventure be if nothing happened? Come on, the raft’s only a little ways downstream!” Sondo struck off toward the raft, and the lads all followed along, their high spirits generally restored. Most talked merrily as they walked, sometimes laughing. Sondo caught Falco frowning, as if he had something on his mind. Sondo made a note to maybe ask about it later, but now they had reached and found the raft thankfully still tied securely to the shore.

“So are we going to make sure our supplies are undamaged?” piped up Marroc, recalling Bingo’s idea. Sondo nodded, “Yeah, I think we should. Some stuff might have gotten moved around, and it wouldn’t be any good for all the food to get crushed.”

Deftly the hobbits untied the simple knots tying the oilcloth to the raft and pulled it away. Then they stopped - some scowled, and some gaped, but Sondo was the picture of shocked anger. Sondo forgot about everything else for the moment, for underneath the oilcloth, an all too familiar stow-away had been hiding. She was his sister, and she would ruin everything.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded harshly.