"There´s a village there called Flowerege. Those folks don´t feel like going anywhere far from there. The Anderson own everything here... schooners.. boats... I mean.. stuff.. the Anderson just own. That´s it. We do the job and then Michaud exports. That´s the way things go. The Andersons know many things of the sea. They know her well. They know where the scrods migrate and they tell us. Sawney, the lighthouse keeper, he goes to Coney Island every now and then. He goes there to know what the Andersons have to say. And then he talks to us. But, no.. we never meet anyone in the island. There´s a small port there, I will drop you there "
Coney Island is a tiny island, measuring about sixty square miles. A hill in the center roughly divides the territory into two coastal areas. One side is the coastal region facing Greyton. Here lies Flowerege, the only human settlement of the island. The other coast lies hidden beyond the hill, and faces the open sea. Flowerege begins at the foot of the hill, occupy part of the coast and meet the sea with its small harbor. A mixed broadleaf and conifers forest starts from the top of the hill, flanks the village on both sides, and ends before the land meets the sea rocks. A tangle of ferns and shrubs makes the forest undergrowth, which probably have never met the passage of man.
Flowerege looks like a small and insignificant human settlement, which dared to challenge the undisturbed and indifferent nature, still reigning in the other parts of the island. It doesn´t seem to exist any trail connecting the village to anything else in the island. Like Greyton, the whole village is wrapped in the mist, suffering the same persistent weather condition caused by the Bay of Fundy habitat, although the fog here is much lighter than in Greyton.
The small port looks the only entry and exit point for the isolated inhabitants. The port consists in nothing more than an old wooden pier. Since the tide has lowered during the travel, part of the squalor of such a structure is revealed, as composed by twisted wooden legs being fully conquered by aquatic plants and mosses. The smell of decomposing sea life fills the air, while dozens of seagulls flitting over the harbor like hungry vultures. Many stand on the pier to clean their feathers or consume their freshly hunted fishes.
Some old rowing boats are moored at the pier. There are fishing nets inside, piled chaotically along with with rusted harpoons. The waters near the port are calm and turbid like those of a swamp. The soft sound of the waves is barely perceptible, being covered by the strong and repetitive croaking of the seagulls. Nearby the pier, two fishermen with straw hats are sitting on the rocks and holding a long fishing rod in their hands. They stare at the floating hook, ignoring whatever else might happen around them.
At northwest there are two houses separated from the main group of village homes. Between them and the rest of the village is a field dotted with trees, so that the two houses are partially hidden to the rest of the town. One of these two houses, the largest, is a mansion, but seems to have been abandoned long ago. This is also the only building built in bricks. Beyond the mansion, begins a more dense moorland made of grasses, ferns, shrubs and, nettles. With a careful look, the group notice there are wooden ruins lying beneath the moor, buried by the overgrown vegetation. These are remains of abandoned and forgotten dwellings. The town must have been much bigger long ago.
The boat approaches the small port and the noise stops. When the noise ends, the group realizes that the village is surrounded by a peaceful silence. The two men fishing nearby the docks seem indifferent to the characters arrival.
