Imelda, All Warrior

Capítulo Cuatro

A/N: I’m not one to put these up, but it’s necessary. :P A while ago, I edited Capítulo Tres and changed a few things, mainly Paolo’s age. He was a child in the last chapter, but I changed his age to be about 13-15. If you’d like, reread the last chapter and it’ll make more sense. Well, that’s all, sorry for the mix up! 

                                                     Capítulo Cuatro

                                   “Es mejor morir de pie que vivir de rodillas.”

                           -It’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.-

                                                                                     — Emiliano Zapata

            I felt my hand twisting on its own, my grip tightening around the door knob. I pushed a little. The door creaked open and I found myself still. The odd sound kept me glued to my spot in front of the door. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – move until I heard something. An eerie growl emitted from his room.

            “P-papa?” I called out to him. No answer. The light may have been bright on the other side, but I felt the chill permeating the room. The fear was primal; I knew something was very out of place. My father was not in this room. The hairs on my nape stood from my terrified form. I trembled, not ready to face this, but face it, I must.  

            My breathing escaped in little pants, afraid what I’d find on the other side. It took everything I had not to go back and bury myself under the covers of my bed. All I needed to do was force my short little legs to stand in my father’s quarters and I’d be in his territory.

            The territory he warned me not to get close to.

            I pounced on him, squeezing the daylights out of him, giving him a bear hug. I enveloped his lanky build into my lean one; bringing him in as a fly falling prey into a Venus flytrap.  Por Dios! He may be getting taller, but this boy needed more meat on his bones. What was Cook feeding this lad? I made a note to increase our food earnings when we were out raiding.

            “Um. Cap’n? Could you let me go? It’s kinda getting harder to breathe.” Paolo choked out his words, his face turning bluer than his eyes.

            “Ay, perdon, lad. I couldn’t help myself.” He squirmed under my hold. I set him down back in his seat, brushing his clothes off as if there were dirt on it. My face lit up with excitement. We finally have a lead to where the blasted thing could be and it’s all thanks to this smart little man here. People thought I was crazy, giving him the role of navigator, but my instincts were never wrong. I reminded myself to give him a reward later. Accessibility to my secret stash of rum it is!

            “Gracias.” He massaged his throat, composing himself before continuing. “Now, as I was saying. Slaymaker has been sabotaging our raids for one reason and one reason only.” His eyes narrowed into slits, his tone darkening. “He wants to build up his little pathetic army of Navy men and overthrow the current Captain of the Navy, like that will do him any good.” He rolled his eyes.

            I nodded, sitting back down on my chair, my mouth turning into a grim line. In our last little encounter, he stated who exactly he wanted to betray.

            "No, you’re coming with me, once and for all. Then, I’ll be promoted to Captain instead of him." 

            Slaymaker finally snapped and was going after the higher ups. I commended him for his bravery, but there was no crossing them.  It took skill to fool these bastards, I gave them that much. They’d tear the poor man to pieces without as much as another thought. What comradery the Navy displayed.