Merlin's first 'class' in the afternoon had granted Arthur a good excuse to dismiss the boy early that morning. While his presence was a comfort (a fact Arthur would not be quick to admit to), it had severely limited Arthur's ability to think about their problem clearly.

He'd roamed the island in search of another way out, but as he had already expected, there was none. Loath to return to the dorms, where he wouldn't be allowed to carry his sword, Arthur slowed when he reached the beach.

He'd seen a plane of water this large only a few times in his life. The lakes near Camelot tended towards the smaller. He spared a look towards the horizon for orientation, then peered down at the ground.

He slipped his sword out of its sheath with the hand attached to the arm he could actually use, swung it once to test his strength, and then moved into slow practiced drills.

It had been a while since he'd gotten to use the sword, and there was little that made him feel more useless or pathetic than being unable to do so. By now his damaged shoulder had healed enough to take the chance one-armed, and he felt relieved.

Maybe he should consider simply keeping a broom nearby at all times inside the dorms. They could be good fun. In combat.

[[ arthur's around and the beach is open ]]