“Well then, I guess we’re sticking to the course, Miss Captain,” I say, making sure she sees me eyeing that magical compass in her hand. “Though, to be fair, I wouldn’t mind an opportunity to paint your flag.”
Come on, Mr. Zayan, pick up on that. I’m sending all the signals your way…
His eyebrows twitch. Not quite there yet, but close.
“A flag?” he asks, his voice a little too confused.
“I designed something. Miss Captain’s a fan.” I grin, throwing a glance Gypsy’s way.
“Really?” Zayan shoots back, and his voice tightens—got him.
Gypsy’s eyes squint, but she’s too focused on the compass to pay us much attention. Her lips twitch just enough for me to call it a smile. I’ll take that as a victory. “It’s really good,” she mumbles.
I lean in, raising my eyebrows at Zayan. “Miss Captain wants it up fast. You never know what we might encounter on this new course.” I pause dramatically. “Who knows when we’ll have another chance to raise that flag?”
Zayan’s mouth forms a small ‘o.’ Finally, it clicks.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to risk that, would we?” he purrs, placing his hands on her shoulders. If he’d tried that earlier, shewould’ve shoved him overboard, but she’s too tired to care now, her fight worn down.
“How about a quick stop?” Zayan suggests, all smooth charm. “The bard and I will get the sails ready. Wouldn’t want to see our ship sink before we get that flag flying, right?”
Gypsy glances at the compass, her lips pressing together in thought. I watch her, nodding eagerly when she finally looks at me. Come on, Captain, don’t let us down.
She sighs, her voice softening. “Alright. We’ll stop, but only to put the flag up and rest for a bit. We can’t waste too much time.”
“Okay,” Zayan replies like he’s sealing some grand pirate deal.
“And I take the compass with me,” Gypsy adds firmly.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Zayan chirps, way too chipper for someone who was brooding just an hour ago.
“Aye,” I echo, because why not? I sail with pirates.
One thing I’ve come to realize about Miss Captain—she’s greedy, but not in the gold-hoarding way. No, it’s the experiences that get her heart racing. She craves the thrill of discovery, the mystery of whatever that compass might lead her to.
It’s one of the many qualities of hers I find inspiring.
“Alright, then,” she murmurs. “Let’s find this island.”
A couple of hours later, Miss Captain is fast asleep below deck, curled up on a pile of ropes like they’re the finest feather pillows, clutching the compass to her chest as if she’s afraid it might sneak off in her dreams. She looks... peaceful, which is a big contrast to how she is awake.
Meanwhile, I stay above, keeping an eye out for Zayan’s return with the supplies.
When he finally reappears, Zayan looks like he’s wrestled the entire jungle and barely lived to tell the tale. Barrels filled with water balance precariously in his arms, wood jammed under hiselbows, and a few stray pieces of fruit bob around in the water beside the ship, waiting to be fished out.
“Help me with the damn fruit,” he huffs, collapsing against one of the barrels, and the exotic fruit rolls across the deck. I spot many that I know already through me being here for two years——but there are a few I don’t recognize, strange, spiny things that look more like they belong on the ocean floor than in a jungle.
I kneel to gather them before they roll overboard, all while Zayan stands there, wiping sweat from his brow. “You look… good,” I say, tossing him a small orange fruit that smells faintly of citrus.
Zayan catches it, giving me a smirk that says he’s not buying any of it. He peels the thing in seconds. “Cut the bullshit. I look like hell. Actually, hell would’ve probably been nicer.” He bites into the orange, chewing thoughtfully. “She still out cold?”
I nod. “Hasn’t moved a finger.”
“Good.”
Good, indeed. After everything we’ve been through, I know sleep’s going to be a rare commodity. Best to take these little moments of peace when we can.
“So,” I start, more to fill the silence than anything, “how’d the jungle fare? Think it’ll grow back after the beating you gave it?”
