Fishwhacked: Reign of the Walrus Witch

Chapter 21

"Wake up."

Paistra panicked awake, and shot an arrow of stale bread at the source of the voice. Yawp looked down at the sharp projectile that was now embedded in his chest.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Paistra said. "It's barbed, if you try to take it out it'll-"

"It's alright." Yawp grunted and strained and flexed. His face turned red and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. The arrow began to vibrate, faster and faster. There was a pop, and it then fell to the floor. It shattered on the old wood.

"That is disgusting," Paistra told him.

"I will commend you on that being one of the sturdiest arrows I've ever muscled out of myself," Yawp replied.

Paistra was on top of a fragile, moldy cot, and the only other thing in the room was a lit candle on a stool. Yawp was crouching as to not to break the weak wooden ceiling with his head, which had already happened in his own room. Cowlick's crew had not been pleased to see him after that.

"Where are we? What time is it?" Paistra sat up.

"It's morning. We're in Peopleopolis. About to enter the lake. Cowlick told me to tell you."

"He try anything treacherous?" Paistra got off the cot and stretched. Her back made an uncomfortable popping sound. She winced.

"Nope. He just told me stories about his travels. He's... really boring. Sitting there, listening to some guy reminisce with long-winded tales that nobody cares about," Yawp said.

"Yeah, I bet," Paistra replied. She made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Above deck, see what this Cowlick is like for myself. And I want to see Peopleopolis as we approach. It's supposed to look majestic or something." Paistra left the room and up the stairs.

The morning sun was an increasingly orange backdrop against the city. The sound of the rushing river and the flapping of the sails accompanied the cool breeze and scent of the semi-salty Jug River water. The crew was busy tending to all of the miscellaneous boat things that needed tending. Captain Cowlick stood at the helm. Paistra approached him, getting greetings from all the crewmen she passed.

Cowlick was a gaunt, aging man with a beard like a broomhead. His coat was stained and patched up and a few weapons hung from his person. Half of his face was missing, replaced by a prosthetic wooden half-face. This gave his speech a weird, lisped accent. "Hello, princess."

"I'm not the princess," Paistra replied. She stared out at the river and at the approaching lump on the horizon that was Peopleopolis.

"I call every lady 'princess.' Including my mother," Cowlick said. "We're approaching Peopleopolis and should be there shortly. Has your trip been satisfactory?"

"Yeah. It was fine. Thanks for all the bread."

"Don't mention it. Was it good? Sometimes the guys in the galley give away the stale stuff to passengers and keep the fresh loaves for themselves."

Paistra ran her finger along her canteen that was full to the brim with fresh, strong dough. Discarding the blob of dough that was stained with various organic residue from Mushruin, Pummelstone, and grotesquenoids had been an act of meditative cleansing for her. "Yeah, it's great."

"Aw, well, thank you!" Cowlick pointed at the cluster of forest near the upcoming bend in the river. "Once we make this turn, it's a straight shot to Peopleopolis. Thank you for sailing with Cowlick."

Paistra nodded. "My friend thought you were going to betray us or something."

"No, ma'am. I have no need for political intrigue. I just ship people and boxes to and from Drownvale. I don't normally get reservations for passengers in advance, but the message came with a hefty advance payment of Peculiars. Poor rooster. And I get the rest when I deliver you intact."