chapter six

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☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙CHAPTER SIX - the aftermath

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☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
CHAPTER SIX - the aftermath

Her mouth was dry, and if it wasn't for Millet pushing her against his body, she probably wouldn't be able to even set one foot in front of the other by now.

"Just a bit further," she felt Miller's sweat under her fingers. She grinned up at him, but the blood stuck on her face and teeth made him look away.

The battle had been something. The Iron Islanders had opened the gates as soon as they could and help had come. But Deema had still been bleeding out on the ground for awhile before Millet could drag her away.

By now, she'd been falling in and out of consciousness, and Millet was almost running. As well as he could, at least. He was almost carrying Deema, but an arrow had pierced through his shoulder, and he couldn't actually carry her.

She didn't mind. She was mostly numb, anyway. She thought she was, until she felt the sand under her feet. Somehow, she'd lost one shoe, and the cool sand felt so close to home that she managed to feel a bit more awake, push herself over the last few feet.

This wouldn't be the day Deema of the sea died. Not like this, not ever.

The water felt like coming home. The crashing waves like a warm hug. The man helped her sit down. She hissed as the salty water washed against her wound, but soon relaxed. With each wave, the pain lessened, and her energy grew. She let a gentle breath escape her lips.

It was hardly the best time, but as Deema shifted her legs, she turned to look at Millet. "I thought you left me."

"Left?" He said, washing his face with the salty water. She could imagine the prick of the salt in the small cuts.

"You're never around anymore. I last spoke with you days ago," the wound was healing fast, but Deema was careful to keep the cut on her arm and face. "You weren't even on the ship."

"I could never leave you like that," he said, sitting down next to her in the waves. "You're still my captain."

She gave him a weak smile, pulling her legs to her chest, testing if it would hurt. It did, but when she looked at her side, it was beginning to close. "You're all I have left."

"I'm sorry," he moved a bit closer, placing a hand on her leg. "I just... I don't want to be on a ship forever. You're working to leave, I'm working for a way out."

He had told her that years ago. Before he was the only one that survived, he'd just been her number two. She'd never called him a friend, never wanted to see him after workhours. But then, she'd had the world at her feet. Now, she was fighting for every step. "I know," she'd been selfish. Of course she had. She rested her chin on her knees for a moment. "If I could, I'd give you everything you needed."

He chuckled softly. "You can begin by healing my shoulder,"

Deema turned to him, her would still sensitive, but moving didn't make her want to die anymore. "Any woman will be lucky to call you her husband," she said, pushing him into the water and placing her hand on the shoulder. "Someone caught your eye?"

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