Daughter of Ice and Fire

Twenty-Six

Moaning, Lihleih leaned over the bed and vomited again. She had lost count of the number of times she had retched and only knew it had been often enough to fill the bucket. Rolling back, she closed her eyes and wished she were dead. But she quickly opened them when the horrible feeling that had been plaguing her only intensified. Focusing on a single spot on the ceiling, she tried to ignore the motion of the ship. And failed miserably. No matter where she looked, she could feel the constant rolling and bobbing.

Her stomach had started revolting the minute the ship left the harbor, waking her from a sound sleep and sending her on the first of many trips to the privy bucket. She had spent most of the time since then either hanging her head over it or curled in a ball, moaning in misery. After hours of heaving, she found herself wondering how there could be anything left inside her.

With that, she rolled on her side once more, spewing bile and acid into the stinking mess already residing in the bucket. Her throat burned, her stomach hurt, and the awful taste in her mouth seemed like a permanent fixture. Flopping on her back, she threw an arm over her eyes and wondered why anyone would choose to travel this way.

Warshade whined, his head resting on his paws as he watched her sadly. She took a deep breath, but it only made her gag, and she clenched her teeth shut, forcing herself to swallow what crept up her throat again. Unable to handle lying down any longer, she pushed herself to a sitting position and hung her head between her knees. But the nausea only intensified, and she quickly raised it. The room refused to stop moving and she moaned while seriously considering just throwing herself over the side.

The wolf crawled forward, placing his head in her lap and whimpering softly. She idly fondled his ruined ear while trying to find someplace to look that wasn't moving. Unable to find one, she cursed under her breath and bunched her fists in the poor excuse of a blanket that covered the pallet.

"Maybe some fresh air will help," she muttered, pushing herself off the bed. Looking at Warshade, she attempted to smile in a reassuring manner. "Besides, I need to empty the bucket."

Standing on legs that wobbled, she ducked her head to avoid the low ceiling. Grasping the rope handle, she opened the door and stepped into the narrow passageway, picking up the foul-smelling bucket on the way. Warshade followed, squeezing past as she closed the door behind her.

She discovered that walking was almost impossible. Between the steady rise and fall of the ship and legs that sent her bouncing off the sides of the hallway, she was hard put to stay on her feet. Placing her free hand on the wall, she braced her legs, taking small stiff steps while trying not to slosh the contents of the bucket. The passageway was dark and narrow, the smell of wet wood competing with the stench of the fouled hay rising from the stables below. Breathing shallowly, she made her way down the passage and tried to blot out the odors that clogged her throat and made her eyes water. When she finally reached the end, she mounted the steps, still holding onto the wall, and emerged onto the flat deck. Her stomach immediately flipped, and she quickly looked away from the sea, staring overhead instead.

When that didn't help, she swiveled her head in an attempt to find someplace that didn't amplify the ship's rise and fall, noticing several people already leaning against the railing. Every one of them, to her horror, seemed to be enjoying themselves, and she suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Watching them, however, made things worse and she tried to hurry to an open area, cursing her legs for not cooperating. Her stomach begin to roll again and she dropped to the deck and placed her arms over her head.

"Helps if you look straight down. The motion is less noticeable that way."

Lihleih unwrapped her arms and looked up, staring into the face of the man who had spoken to her. The contents of her stomach quickly entered her mouth, and she clasped a hand over it and scrambled to her feet. Grabbing the stinking bucket, she darted to the side, no longer caring about the other people on deck. Leaning over, she heaved, a small amount of bile spinning away in the wind. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she moved to the stern and dumped the contents over the side. Placing the bucket at her feet, she turned her back on the sea and stared at the deck.