Ashsib and the Cat Beast

Chapter Fourteen

"I what?" Namere tilted her head in confusion. Already she was acting as if her days near death had never happened, and stood before Elian confident and casual, one hand draped over Karihyou's hilt at her hip. She'd been given another watch, but when Ashsib said there were no more swells of the Beast's power and Elian decided she was truly sleeping instead of lying comatose, she'd been given her space. Now, she was under her own power after a day's sleep.

"Ran into the kitchen and chugged a full cup of clear gin." The doctor explained in a painfully slow manner.

Namere shook her head, her hair returned to fluffy gold, "Doesn't sound like me. I hate gin."

"This isn't a question of whether you did it or not!" Elian snapped, "You know what? Whatever. Go back to bed."

Passing Ashsib and Challah in the hall, Namere turned away from her room and went up the deck instead.

"Yes, Challah?" Elian motioned the other woman in.

Challah wasn't nearly as well looking as Namere. Uncharacteristically, her dark roots were showing through her pink hair and it lay flat across her scalp. Her ringed eyes showed she hadn't slept much. She also nervously fidgeted in a way Ashsib had never seen on her.

"I want to clean the kitchen, but you said to speak to you first thing." She spoke to Elian's desk.

"That shouldn't be too strenuous." Elian stood, "I'll help you."

"Ashsib already is." Challah looked over her shoulder at him waiting there.

"The more the merrier, as they say." Elian gave her no way to say no and led to the kitchen, "Really, Namere should be the one helping."

"No, it's-it's okay she doesn't need to." Challah muttered.

The sight of the kitchen made Challah flinch visibly. The trashed room looked more daunting than Ashsib remembered. There were jars and cans spread in and around the mound. It consisted of broken dishes, tinned food, and dehydrated things both packaged and loose. The ship staple of hardtack studded the pile like gray-tan rocks. The brick-like rations were perfectly intact, nothing ever bothered hardtack. You could soak it for a full day in water and it would still break a tooth. It was a food that could keep you alive, but not much else. It was the last resort of sailors starving on the waves.

"How do you want to start?" Ashsib tried being cheerful for Challah, even though it was completely out of character, because she just wasn't perking up in her usual way. It seemed to be more than pain dragging at her face.

Challah gave a little sound and looked lost. She began searching the pile aimlessly, her sure hands made for cooking just weakly pushing things here and there.

"It doesn't matter." Elian answered instead, rolling up his sleeves, "I'll start on the west side, Ashsib, you start on the east." He walked over and began clattering through the debris.

Ashsib started on the opposite side as Elian, though he had no idea if it was east. He found a tray and began lining up the small spice bottles and pots, since there seemed to be a lot of them and they were sure to get broken.

Challah dug around like she was looking for something specific, checking under the island counter and even sifting through some broken glass.

"Hey, Challah?"

The woman, looking a little frantic, gave him a glance.

"This bottle is empty, do I toss it?" He asked, holding up what he'd found.

Challah snatched the small glass container away so quickly, it rocked Ashsib back on his heels.

"It's not supposed to be empty." She accused.

"Well, everyone's been taking turns cooking. Maybe we used it up." Ashsib saw nothing special about the bottle, it had no label, "Or maybe it spilled? What did the contents look like?"

"It should still be..." Challah's face pinched, "Whatever, it's gone now." She threw it into the refuse bin so hard, the sound of it shattering was like a gunshot. Strange that she didn't save it to reuse it, considering all the cracked containers, but that small oddness was forgotten quickly as Challah rebuilt after that.

Taking firmer control over her helpers, she became her bossy self. By the time they were done, a mountain of other trash was on top of the bottle. Plates were drying, their cracks neatly glued, the hardtack returned to it's airtight container, and Challah even had dinner started.

The sight of Challah bustling cheered Ashsib considerably, and though it had taken all day to do it, the feeling of a job well done sent him up on deck to watch another of those glorious sunsets one gets only on the sea. This time he was not planning on cursing it. Truly. But a dark figure blighted this one's glory. He lost his pep and trudged up to the balcony on the port side of the wheelhouse where both Quinn and Pashqua were standing.

"Is that?" Ashsib asked.

"Yeah." Quinn's eyes remained fixed on the silhouette of a small vessel headed their way out of the sunset.

"Persistent." Pashqua spat into the ocean and returned to the wheel.

"Annoying, more like." Quinn also muttered, "Stupid, too, and going to learn a hard lesson."

"I knew I should have shredded their sail." Ashsib, with his new excellent eyesight, could see the P.O. flag flying on it's highest mast, "How long until that blowhard is yelling at us again?"

"Hopefully, never, but," The Captain glared, "By morning, we'll know."

Ashsib and the Captain watched the speck grow until darkness swallowed it fully. Ashsib could still feel them out there, reaching hands towards the Mermaid.