{zoro x oc} stick 'em with the pointy end

8. neso's past ~ the island, part II

~ AGE 17 ~

She woke one night to horrible sounds of wood crashing, terrible screams.

She jumped up, in a whole year she had only known the serene sounds of the island she had been stranded upon. Occasional storms would pass but nothing ever brought such horrible energy that she now felt.

She got up slowly and made her way to the beach. Staying hidden in the foliage she saw a burning ship. Men ran ashore, some were on fire, rolling in the waves searching for relief.

Some were desperately fighting the flames, taking large chests off the ship.

So far, she counted twenty men.

Neso stepped back, tripping over thick tree roots. In her time on the island, she learned how to use the plants available to her. She learned which ones were edible, which ones weren't. Some were hallucinogenic, others were medicine. She couldn't fight their fire but she had burn ointment and food to give. When she returned to the beach, the smoke was too thick to see. She waited until dawn to venture back.

Men were scattered everywhere. Some moaned in pain. Others, already dead. She had no idea where to start.

"Water," a man grabbed her ankle, his voice harsh.

She knelt beside him and poured water into his mouth. He would be her first patient. He wasn't burnt, like some men were, his face was covered in soot and he had several wounds.

She tore cloth from his tunic and began tending to him.

"Can you move?" she asked, "Go that way, beyond those trees."

She made her way to the next man, upon kneeling and turning him over, she found his face burned off. She jumped back, she had never seen such a gruesome state.

"You can't help them all," a raspy and harsh voice was behind her.

Neso jumped up and spun around. The man was large. He wore a full beard and had wild eyebrows. His belly was round and protruding, he took up space and casted a shadow over her.

"Are these your men?"

"Aye."

"One of them is over there," she pointed before turning to look around at the other men, "You should get some rest. I'll bring water and food soon."

"What kind of captain would I be," he stepped closer, towering above her, "if I let a girl save my men while I sit idle?"

She nodded and handed him some of her supplies. As she walked away, he stared at the petite and slender legs that her skirt of leaves revealed. He was dying to see what was underneath.

The two parted, going man to man, seeing what they could do to help.

Unbeknownst to her, she had a much higher patient survival rate. Each time she sent one of his men to the safety of the trees, he grit his teeth as he ran his dagger through another heart. His crew had saved his treasure and now he found himself upon a tiny island with a beautiful girl. He wanted her and this island all to himself.

Dusk set in and she had most of the survivors rounded up. The captain combed the beach, checking for anyone who could be alive and saw to it that they weren't for much longer.

A few days passed and she kept herself busy tending to the men who found themselves stranded upon her island. Their ship was entirely destroyed. The beach was littered with the burnt wreckage.

Finally, the captain couldn't take it any longer. He ordered his men to stop interacting with the girl, to refuse her aid and the food she brought. He did so in a language she couldn't understand and she became, all at once, extremely self conscious of her appearance. She had saved them and now they refused to meet her eyes.