The witch stood at the prow of the ship, letting the sea winds ruffle his short-cropped hair like an affectionate uncle. It was still dim, and he could just see the first sliver of the sun peaking over the flat horizon.

The broad, flat sea and chilling winds reminded him of his home in Alaska, and he allowed himself a moment of homesickness before he began his morning ritual.

Silently and without gesture he began, breathing in the fire of the sun, feeling the power of the winds, mentally connecting with the ocean and the Earth far below.

Mother Earth, Mother Ocean, embrace us, heal us, give us the tranquility to make it through another day. Father Sun, Father Wind, give us the power to complete the challenges that await us this day. Let the circle remain unbroken, and help us to remember Your presence.

He smiled, feeling the elemental energies coursing through him, and vaporized one of the high, wispy clouds floating sun-reddened over the horizon, just for fun.

Blessed be, he intoned silently, and let the energies fade into the back of his mind. Turning, he again faced the ship, glancing idly up into the windows of the bridge where he could see the officer of the watch staring. It's a good thing I didn't do it the way I wanted to, he thought. Sad that it should be so rare for someone to come up here to watch the sunrise.

Pretending he was unaware of being watched, the witch stuck his hands in his dungaree uniform pockets and casually descended the ladder into the interior of the ship, and headed to the messdecks for breakfast.