In this chap­ter, the pro­tag­o­nist reflects on the hazy after­math of a recent trau­mat­ic event, liken­ing their escape to being swal­lowed by fog while aboard a boat named Flower. With min­i­mal supplies—just a toy com­pass, an incom­plete chart book, and a headache from cof­fee withdrawal—they are aware that the world they knew is behind them, yet they feel lost in this new real­i­ty. As mem­o­ries of Lark, a sig­nif­i­cant fig­ure in their life, sur­face, the inter­nal strug­gle weighs heav­i­ly on them.

Despite the cir­cum­stances, the pro­tag­o­nist tries to find solace in small acts of self-care, such as prepar­ing sar­dines on crack­ers that some­what lift their spir­its. They take stock of the lim­it­ed books on board, includ­ing nav­i­ga­tion guides and a poignant col­lec­tion by Mol­ly Thorn, which stirs up mixed feel­ings of dread and affec­tion. The cri­tique of the pre­vi­ous events in their life is clear; they acknowl­edge a lack of pre­pared­ness for the jour­ney they are forced to under­take.

As they nav­i­gate the fog, the pro­tag­o­nist recalls Lark’s com­pas­sion, espe­cial­ly toward a young man named William, who attempt­ed to bomb her book­store. While Lark expressed empa­thy and wished for a bet­ter life for him despite his destruc­tive actions, the pro­tag­o­nist har­bors resent­ment towards those who have inflict­ed pain upon them and ques­tions the val­ue of mer­cy towards their ene­mies.

Caught between fear, anger, and a nos­tal­gia for Lark’s under­stand­ing, the pro­tag­o­nist seeks to calm them­selves through music but instead finds a flock of gulls has occu­pied the deck, remind­ing them of fleet­ing moments of peace amidst the tur­moil. The chap­ter mas­ter­ful­ly por­trays the ten­sion between the beau­ty of nature and the weight of per­son­al grief, leav­ing the read­er with a poignant sense of emo­tion­al strug­gle as the pro­tag­o­nist con­tin­ues on their uncer­tain jour­ney.