The remainder of the evening passes uneventfully, the rising sun greeting Flick with obscene cheerfulness. Anna rouses shortly after the sun, ready to begin her duties on deck, only to recall the tragedy of the previous day. Anna, accustomed as she is to the wilds, awakens shortly thereafter. Everyone is stiff and sore from the vertical flight from the doomed ship, and the rocky ground.
Once everyone's morning preparations are complete and a breakfast of roast boar is consumed, a pressing question looms. What now? A quick look down the side of the cliff shows nothing but pounding surf, the Mists is gone, probably dragged off into the deep with the tide. There's not even any debris left to indicate what had happened, the whole site is mockingly pristine.