Bear nods. “Yes, Captain. Prop the door for me?”
I wait for Rune to put the stopper on the door, then follow him past the line of crew members stretching down the length of the already-transformed sleeping quarters. Every eye catches on us as we pass, but I keep my back straight. At least one of them tried to break into our room last night—
Well, notourroom—
Rune takes the steep steps two at a time and all at once sunlight blasts my retinas.
“Slow down!”
He turns like I’ve surprised him, nearly catching me with an elbow. “Can’t stand to be away for a moment, can you?”
I give that comment the look it deserves. “I need to see the map.”
His brows lift as he reaches into his pocket. “It’s all yours, little doe.”
I ignore the nickname in favor of the parchment in his hand, but just as my fingers brush it, he hoists it up, extending his arm up over his head, far, far out of my reach.
I squint against the blinding sky that silhouettes the chiseled muscles of his arm and shoulders. “Very mature.”
He grins again, and it’s an effort to tamp the edges of my mouth down, trying not to do the same. “Seems like I matured a lot more than you,” he says around the absurd smile on his face. “Your crew should have spent more time plundering food—”
I crack a boot into his shin. As he sucks in a pained breath, I dodge his free arm and use the hilt of the galley knife I stole, slamming it into his ribs.
He hisses, shooting one hand over the hurt and the other towards me again. I dance away and flaunt the parchment pinched between my fingers. “I’m touched by your concern. But I managed.” I’ll never admit he’s right. Otto’s cooking—real greens and vegetables, have made a noticeable difference already, like the animal in me had lived half-starved.
The paper is dry, catching on my skin. I unfold it as I move away, letting my eyes trace the familiar markings like an old friend. Even steps close in from behind.
“I can’t let you keep that knife, Odelia.”
I feign innocence, but don’t look back. “Hmm?”
We’re approaching from the west, and the map shows the two sharp protrusions that bisect the island. Even from a distance they were obvious. Now, they rise like sentinels, the unnaturally smooth stone seeming to absorb the light. Rune steps beside me, his attention following my own.
I glance at him, but he doesn’t berate me for gaining the upper hand. “Does that look like—”
“Twin serpent’s teeth?” he asks. “I guess we’re in the right place.”
Twin serpent’s teeth, one gaping maw,
Deadly to sleep, silence a flaw
To step is to leap,
One breath to keep
The beasts are the least when nature is law.
I play the words on a loop in my head. Our supplies are packed. The rowboats are loaded. Rune stole the map back, his ape-ishly long arms an unfair advantage. All that’s left is to solve the riddle—and survive. The serpent’s teeth are the stones. The maw could be a cave? A pit?
Thedeadly to sleeppart is obvious enough. We won’t chance the luxury of staying on the island overnight. The most concerning is the line about the beasts. Whoever wrote the clues seemed to think whatever might attack will be the least of our worries.
Rune orders the anchor, and the ship groans as the weight drags the bottom. Nerves bounce off each of the crew, a mix of worry and anticipation. Those that volunteered to go are quiet, studying the sandy shore. Each holds at least two weapons—it remains to be seen if they know how to use them.
Rune’s voice seems louder over the somber crew. “Odi. We’re up first.” He jerks his head towards the waiting rowboat and extends a hand like he’s going to help me inside, but there’s no way I’m going to touch him. Not when my entire body is already a bundle of raw nerves. The water churns below, eliciting the memory of burning lungs and helpless fear.
A few of the crew laugh when I ignore his hand in favor of clawing my hand around the rowboat’s edge, but I’m too busy fighting the swoop of my stomach as it wobbles beneath me to care. He climbs in next and sits in front of me, more graceful than I, his attention spiriting over my white-knuckled grip on the side. Bear follows, shaking us further, then Tavi, who sits beside Rune, and uses the pulley to lower us in.
Finally, the boat settles low in the water. Rune and Tavi man the ores while I fight the urge to close my eyes, knowing the darkness would only make the fear—the memory—stronger. A larger wave lifts us, shepherding us towards the shoreline, but I gasp, waiting for the flip. For the boat to tip and the ocean to claim us. The animal in me doesn’t care that we’re close to the shore.
