VIOLENT TIDES (gxg - editing)

26

The crew of the Finch had left Ellay's shores a week ago, and now, storm clouds brewed on the horizon.

Ainsley spotted them from her place in the crowsnest, towering black masses that seemed to touch the sea with how low and heavy they hung. Even as she watched, they boiled and twisted in the sky, outlined by the midday sun. She felt her throat bob as she swallowed.

Gael and Nathe didn't seem particularly concerned when Ainsley gave up her spot to another pirate to approach the captain and officer about the coming storm.

"It looks bad, doesn't it?" She asked, hands wrapped around each other and lifted to her chest. A distant rumble sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine.

Nathe just chuckled, adjusting a heavy coil of rope on his shoulder. "The Finch has survived much worse. Everything will be fine, Princess."

Gael was a little more serious. "We'll prepare for it, of course. Everything will need to be lashed down, and someone needs to gather men to take in the sails. But Nathe is right, we have weathered through worse storms than this one is shaping up to be." She gave Ainsley a smile. That smile had started making Ainsley's heart jump when she received it, but this time, it thumped instead with nerves she couldn't calm.

"Alright," she replied, wiping her palms on her trousers. "Is there anything I can do?"

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the quell that loomed ever closer, until it hovered over them like a dark monster or one of the great titans of the sea. With each slap of the waves against the Finch's hull, growing larger and larger every time, Ainsley's throat grew drier.

It was silly to be afraid of storms. She knew that. But even in the safety of stone castle walls, the flashing of lightning never failed to set her atremble. It would be so much worse here, on the open ocean and surrounded by towering waves of foam and seawater.

By the time evening fell, the ship was ready to endure the storm. A harsh wind had whipped up, blowing Ainsley's hair erratically around her face until she stopped trying entirely to push it out of her eyes. The air smelled thick and heavy with salt and humidity. Now, the waves that rushed up to meet the Finch's bow rivaled the ship's own height.

Ainsley approached Gael on unsteady steps. The deck convulsed beneath her.

"I think I'll turn in," she said, watching the sky, now dark with the fall of night. The clouds completely obscured the stars, so they were surrounded by nothing but a chaotic black void and falling rain.

"Oh. Of course. Nathe and Otto will be watching the helm tonight, so I think I'll do the same before too long," Gael replied, apparently not picking up on the worry in Ainsley's voice. For that, the princess was glad.

Inside the hold, everything tossed violently, and Ainsley couldn't get comfortable. The warmth of the cat pressed close to her back couldn't settle her tonight, and the small dragon flapped its wings and chittered, picking up on the anxiety she experienced. The storm was straight above them now, and every clap of thunder was a roar that shook her bones and made the inside of her skull ache. The Finch was tossed like a rabbit in the talons of a dragon.

Finally, she sat up, shaking from head to toe.

"It's alright," she murmured to herself, putting a hand on her heart. It fluttered beneath her fingers like the heartbeat of a caged animal. "It's alright, it's alright..." But it wasn't. Despite her best efforts to tell herself she was being ridiculous, Ainsley was terrified.

Swiping away the blanket that had tangled between her legs, Ainsley got to her feet and made her way unsteadily down a narrow corridor, then up a ladder into the next level of the ship's innards. By now, she knew her way around the Finch as well as any of the crew, but the darkness had her stumbling around blind.