Flying

Chapter 9: A Bloody Handkerchief

I am freezing. The air surrounding me feels like ice. Only my left hand, clutched firmly in Hook's callused grip, is warm. We have reached the bottom of the mountain, and the chill wind is piercing through my clothing. At least I'm still wearing my hooded jacket that I took to England. A few snowflakes catch on my eyelashes. Rubbing my sleeve over my eyes, I try to clear my vision.

"Allow me." Hook shakes the snow out of his hair and pulls out a silk handkerchief from his pocket. 

"Is it monogrammed as well?" I wonder how many other ridiculous items are hiding in his pockets. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled out smelling salts next.

"No, but you are more than welcome to do the needlepoint for me, lovey. You never know when a handkerchief might come in handy. Like now."

I take the handkerchief and pick the snowflakes from my lashes. Iw ould die before I told him, but he is right. The creamy silk material is softer against my eyes than the rough fabric of my sleeve.

"You might as well keep it. You seem to need it more than I do."

Hook looks up and down my petite frame, taking in my disheveled attire and tangled hair. His sharp gaze sends burning sparks over my skin. I don't understand why heat starts to rise into my face. It's probably the first stage of hypothermia.

"And you probably have boxes and crates of these in your cabin." I shove the handkerchief in my pocket and grab Hook's hand again. "Hold on tight."

I lift into the air and soar above the treetops. Hook jerks slightly when we begin floating upwards. His hand spasmodically clutches mine for a moment. I'm so accustomed to flying that I forget it's a shock to people on their first time. I suppose this would technically be his second time since he dangled underneath me on a rope when I fled the ship, but that one doesn't really count. Despite the rapidly decreasing temperature, Hook grins widely. His breath forms small white clouds in front of his parted lips, and his eyes sparkle brightly against the grey sky. We move away from the shore to the large ship, which is caught in the frozen water. None of the men are in sight.

"Well, your pirates seem to be very well trained in keeping watch," I comment drily as we land on the wooden deck.

The muscles in Hook's jaw tighten. He leads the way below deck to the bunks. All of his men are in their hammocks, curled up in blankets. Mister Smee is bent over a table studying a map. He looks up as we enter and salutes.

"Captain! You're back!"

"Mister Smee," Hook nods to his crew member, "I see you have all been making wise use of your time."

The rest of the pirates awkwardly get to their feet and salute their captain. A few of them glower in my direction. They probably think I'm responsible for this change in weather. Hook gestures to one of the deckhands and whispers quick instructions in his ear. The man scurries off as Hook turns back to his waiting sailors.

"All right, men," Hook calls out, "we are facing a serious threat."

Smee scratches the red cap on his head. "You mean besides your..."

Hook holds up his hand abruptly, cutting off Smee's interruption.

"Can we skip the rousing speeches and just cut to the chase?" I jump in. "I'm getting a little bored."

Hook gives me a sarcastic bow. "Please, my lady. You're the one with the plan which you refuse to explain beforehand. Go ahead."

"Thank you, Captain." I copy his fake bow before turning to face the crew. "All right, listen carefully. We are facing a northern devil shadow."