The sky was still yellow and bad but this time it was Hem's sky that we're referring to here. Hem Slonnigum II, intrepid traveler who wanted things a certain way and sometimes got them. He and Breema were deep in the Island Realm, deep in the South O' Things gettin' sidetracked by all the strange customs and interesting villages that glistened on the islands like jewels in a queen's crown.

"What do ya make of it then," Hem said, gesturing up to the featureless yellow sheet that cast a sickly pallor on things.

"An omen, I suspect, omen of some sort," replied the innkeep, without looking skyward.

The inn they were at was called the Inn, and that soured Hem's mood straightaway. An inn should have a clever name that reflected the character inside it: the Beepin' Brizzle, the Silver Situation, the Ragged Maiden. Stuff like that. In truth this was the only inn Hem had been to in the South O' Things. Most such establishes were just a buncha trees and forts and nets and hammocks constructed in such a way as to be clearly part of a business.

"A night? Two nights? Three nights? Four nights?" snapped the innkeep. "What do you want here?"

"...Just a night," replied Hem. He was taken aback. He was used to surly innkeeps, but not greedy ones. "Actually you know what, nevermind." He grabbed his bag o' things and turned heel and beat hisself right outta there.

Breema met him outside. She was hanging out there twirlin' a t'backer in her fingers even though she didn't smoke 'em. She liked the smell. "That was quick."

"We're not staying here," Hem stated.

"What?"

"Didn't like that guy." Hem kept walking and shouldered his stuff and prepped for a walk down town. The town of Queo. That's where they were. Didn't mention it. Now we did.

"What guy?" Breema said, flustered and confused, but ready to go along with Hem whatever he decided. They worked well together. Worked well and traveled well.

"Innkeep guy! That guy. Don't deserve my dracoins."

Breema caught up to Hem and they walked in silence for a while. Queo was a quiet city, nestled into the sands of the Heated Waters of the Boiling Ocean. Lots of cities like this in the Island Realm but they each had their own qualities. They were on the main sandy thoroughfare, big ol' Sea Trees blowin' in the hot breeze. "Any other inns here then?" She asked. They really just needed a place to rest.

"No other inns I expect, judgin' from what the fella on the Brickertrick was sayin'," Hem replied absently, his old hometown dialect comin' back and influencin' the narrator as well.

"Well they've sailed on to another island, so he said," said Breema. She yawned. "Can we find a place?"

"Aye," replied Hem, thinking of Blom. Inns always made him think of Blom, made him think of times past.