i forgot about barend being an artist but
Barend snorted, rubbing his nose on his sleeves, then went back to his sketching; it wasn’t just horses anymore. Barend drew ships, in amazing detail. Sponge admired the ability, but secretly wished Barend would return to drawing horses. Horses were alive, beautiful. Ships were boring.
...
When Sponge pulled away, Barend got shakily to his feet. He was home, all right. And he could sketch all he wanted, pretending his mind was out there on the water, skimming before the wind, but he knew he was here, and winter would be long and full of pain and fear.
was sure the hell of a reminder
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