Bran munched on the soft, milky bread and glared at the man sitting opposite him. The rocking of the boat had gotten worse and even the plastic canopy over the cabin could do nothing against the sea spray. Bran swallowed.
"What should I call you?" he asked, tearing apart the bread. "Malcolm? Or Morgan?"
The man opposite him sighed with a lazy smile.
His features were different from earlier at Cloud Flame Manor and different from the library or the forest, a sort of halfway point between Malcolm and Morgan. And maybe other people too, Bran thought to himself, munching on the bread.
"You can call me whatever you like," was the reply.
Bran regarded him a moment. "Morgan, then," he said.
"Finding it hard to believe I'm Malcolm too?"
"Finding it hard to believe I was stupid enough to not recognise you earlier."
