A seagull flew up in the air, free from the tyranny of the seas and able to sail the skys like no tomorrow. Lobos was lying down on his deck, looking up at a small flock of seagulls soaring up above. He gazed up there, lost in thought for a great deal of time, the sway of the ship rather soothing to him. It wasn't until the grumbling of his stomach that made him realize he was stuck in the middle of the ocean, running supplies. He regretting not bringing more supplies when he had stolen the ship in the first place. He stomach let out another large growl, causing him to raise his upper body while still sitting down. Beside him was a bag with all the food left...1 loaf of bread. Despite the dire situation, Lobos showed gratitude and was satisfied with just that one loaf of bread. He took a bite, enjoying and savoring every single bite of the stale bread. A breeze passed by, ruffliing his hair. He looked up at the sky "A storm is brewing" He said to himself, taking another bite of bread.

Lobos stood up and looked around at the vast ocean, gazing up at the sky once again. It was daytime so there were no stars in sight, which was the main way how Lobos found where he was at. He had a general idea of his location, but could never be too sure. The tides of the ocean were never a sure thing. He walked up to the front of the ship, his sheathed sword in one hand and a bread in another. He sat down near the wheel of the ship, placing his sword on his lap along with his bread. He closed his eyes and meditated. He couldn't die now, especially of starvation. There was only one thing he could do, leave it up to chance. And so he did, sitting there and patiently waiting.