The Making of Witches

Chapter 14

After the incident with the thief, the crew no longer maintained their strong aversion to Lore, which she appreciated. They grunted at her in corridors and might wave a sword or two as they passed. Every time she even caught sight of Swift a shiver ran down her spine and she quickly averted her eyes, quicking her pace. The crew also seemed to be skirting around their captain as well, no longer comfortable with joshing around in her presence. Nave's death had shaken everyone.

Lore didn't feel guilty about killing Nave. Her only goal up until this point had been to stay alive and she had done just that. The thing that had sickened her, made her cry tears of rage was how much she had been used. Swift could manipulate her, do anything to her, make her do anything and she could do nothing but take it silently.

Keelin and Lore's bond grew silently each day. It started with silent touches, the brush of a shoulder, or a quick tap with a hand. Then it progressed to small shows of rare warmth, when the rest of the world slipped away and they could just be vulnerable without the constant fear of threat. Those moments usually happened under the cover of darkness in Keelin's cubby or at the top of the nest, breathing in the salty wind and watching the horizon. Lore had begun to start thinking of the cubby not just as Keelin's place, but as her's as well. Then one early morning, Lore awoke to her face resting on Keelin's sleeping shoulder. She had squeaked and scrambled back, glad the other girl had not been awake to see her embarrassment.

Weeks passed by in a blur as Lore saw waves when she closed her eyes and wind when she opened them. She could down grog in a second and her teeth ripped through stale rations sharply and quickly. Callouses began to form on her hands from all the heavy lifting and climbing the ropes. Keelin was teaching her how to shoot a gun and while she was still no good, she was getting better every day. The salty sea became home to her, its mannerisms second nature and its language her mother tongue. Every night she would ask for stories about Keelin's fire goddess. She heard tales of infernos and villains, cruel men and blazing victories, yet she never once heard a name. Keelin claimed it was forgotten, lost to the stars which burned just as brightly as her god.

One night when the moon was high and the captain retreated early to her quarters, Keelin dropped from the nest early and crept to a new part of the ship, one Lore had never seen before. She grinned at Bruiser as they slipped through the heated kitchen and slipped through a panel in the wall, emerging into a new and bustling room full of life. It reminded Lore of that first door she had been shoved through with her hands bound, tossed into the lion's den. It was no longer a lion's den, but maybe a home. The room was bustling, every table full of laughing and roaring crew slamming cards and mugs on tables. They all banged their cups on the tables as Keelin entered, easily fitting in with the new environment as Lore cowered behind her. She was again pulled into the past as she remembered how out of place she felt at first on the Crooked Skull, like an extra appendage that didn't know where to fit. Keelin immediately sat down on one of the stools and a mug was slid in front of her as she laughed with her crew. Lore knew then that it had been a mistake to come here. She would be treated as an outsider.

Then Keelin pulled up a stool for her and gave her a mug, smiling the whole time. Someone on the stool next to her clapped their hand on her back and she jolted, more surprised than anything. She stared into her cup, sniffing at what seemed incredibly stronger than grog.

"What is this?" She asked Keelin over the surrounding din. The boy next to her jumped in before Keelin could. Half of his teeth were missing or brown and his thick blonde hair was scraped back against his scalp. "Smells stronger than grog."

"Nah, nah, fire girl, grog's de knockoff. Dis is da real shit." Something bright lit in his eyes as he spoke, lifting his own cup to his lips. "Rum."

Lore cautiously lifted her cup to her lips, taking a precarious sip of the liquid. She almost spat it out. It burned her throat and made her eyes water, it'd taste so strong it almost forced its way out of her mouth. But she held it down, finding that the aftertaste was so much better than grog it was addictive. It was silky and smooth, flavour in every particle. If grog warmed then this was an inferno in her belly, addictive, raw and powerful. She coughed as she swallowed and the table banged their mugs against the filthy wood in applause as the room broke out into cheers. Her cheeks were stained red and she looked to Keelin for comfort. The girl just gave a suggestive smile and turned back to her other friends.