“The sail,” Ethan muttered, already rushing forward. He grabbed the flapping edge before it shredded further, but the damage was beyond saving. They worked side by side, sweating under the sun, trying to patch it with cloth and tape. Each attempt failed; the rip only widened.
Finally, Ethan dropped the torn edge with a grim shake of his head. “It’s not going to hold.” “So… what then?” Liam asked, breathless. “We can’t sail without it,” Ethan said flatly. “Not unless we had a spare.” His tone sharpened.