Honor Among Thieves || Book Two

~7~

^^The image above does not belong to me. I think you will figure out what it is meant to be as you read :)

The next morning on the Destiny...

Sera stood at the helm of her ship with Annabelle partially draped around her shoulders, humming a vulgar sea chanty to herself as she gently guided the vessel around a large reef. In the distance, she could see a little speck of land. That was her destination.

A message had come to her a few days ago in the form of a dove with patches of mottled brown feathers: Tia Dalma needed to see her immediately.

It had been ages since she had last saw the woman, and she was not exactly excited to see her again. She always rattled on about destinies and gave vague 'glimpses' into the future without little more than head-scratching riddles and symbolism.

It was annoying to say the least. 

"B'lieve it's time I relieved ye." Wolfie made his way up the steps, refusing to look her in the eyes. She nodded and stepped aside, taking notice of his unusual behavior. "Stay the course. We haven't got a moment to spare."

He took the helm without a word.

She continued to study him, racking her brain for a reason for his actions until, suddenly, it came to her: he was still sore about having to leave Mange behind. Sighing, she adjusted Annabelle's girth on her shoulders. "He's still alive, you know."

Wolfie continued to stare straight ahead, making no indication that he heard her.

"Did you hear me? There's no reason--"

"I heard ye." He snapped. "An' I know he's alive. Just don't think it's right, leavin' 'im like that."

"He'll find his way back to us." She returned her gaze to the speck of an island, a feeling of dread gnawing at her insides. "Rest assured..."

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Later...

"Are any of you panty-wasted men willing to come with me?" Sera asked angrily, looking at the frightened faces of her crew. After informing them why they were dropping anchor near this particular island, they had quickly sought to ensure their spot on the ship rather than the longboat being lowered at the mouth of the river.

"I think we need to stay here an' mind the ship. Ya know," Rusty Pete lowered his eyes. "Make sure no one tries to take it."

"Aye!" One-Eyed Sam exclaimed. "I side with the Irishman!"

"I'm Scottish."

Sam's brows knitted together. "No, ye ain't."

"Yes I am." Pete retorted. "I think I've enough bloody sense to know what I am. I'm a Scotsman."

"Thar ain't no way! I've known me fair share o' Scots, an' thar ain't no way--"

"Enough!" Sera shouted, stamping her foot on the deck. "Since none of you little teet-suckers have the balls to come with me on your own, I'll just pick who I want to come with me. Wolfie," She smiled at her first mate. "Get over here."

He dropped his head and walked over beside her. She settled her gaze on Rook, the cabin boy, who was peeking out from behind the main mast. "You. Come along."

His face twisted in anger. "I ain't goin'. You can't make me."

Sera arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"

Wolfie groaned and shook his head. Spoons, who was standing next to the young man, roughly jerked him out from behind the mast. "Go on! Ye heard the cap'n."