“. . . and how old are you?”
He bobs his head and then pinches more egg into his mouth, tipping his head back to drop it in. “I’m seventeen earlier this spring, you?”
I stare at him, wondering why they’d involve someone so young in their hunting. He stares back with bright blue eyes, like he truly believes I’m capable of civil conversation. Rather than answer, I let my attention fall to the food. It smells incredible, and my body is begging me to take the risk.
He sees my hesitation and leaps to explain. “It’s rehydrated duragan meat, redfin, and quail eggs. The meat’s chewy but I did my best. Watch out for the bones though. They leave them on for flavour.”
The meat doesn’t appeal to me in the least. I’d rather starve. But my chains click as I finally reach for the bowl. The first forkful of redfin is well seasoned, better than I’ve ever had, and I can’t hide my surprise. “You cooked this?”
He beams. “Yeah. And raised the quail myself. They stay with us. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one but they’re tiny.” He gestures to his plate. “They live off the ship scraps and leftovers. Their eggs are delicious, go on, try them!”
I’ve had little opportunity to try eggs. The thought doesn’t disgust me as much as the idea of red meat, so I spear one of the smallish bits, trying to ignore his triumphant grin. It’s creamier than I expected, and the yellow inside takes me bysurprise. The flavour isn’t offensive, though the textures will take getting used to. “It’s . . . good,” I say.
“I know right! Captain never eats em, he says they’re bad luck.”
“Your captain is superstitious?” Maybe I could use that against them, somehow. A lot of those who run the sea have their own versions of cautions and myths. Of what waits in storms and of the pendants one might use for protection.
The absence of my mother’s necklace washes over me all over again, like a phantom limb.
Bear doesn’t give me time to dwell, waving my question away. “Nah, Rune just hates eggs. Birds too. It makes sense if you think about it. Plus he and Elio really just prefer seafood in general.”
I try not to let on that the information intrigues me. Rune is their captain. Of course he is, with a sense of self-importance that large.
“Elio has taken a liking to venison though. You know, deer meat?”
He chatters on about rare vs medium rare and I nod, trying not to think about it too hard while I chew my eggs. They’re getting progressively harder to swallow. “Do you have water?” Rune never brought it, not that I expected better from him. Men on the sea are all the same: selfish, ambitious, cutthroat—desperate for anyone to comment on how big their ship is.
“Oh sure! Let me take your bowl and I’ll bring some back down. The quail will love that duragan meat, if it’s not your preference.” He tips his head and plate back to scoopthe rest of his food in his mouth and I tuck the fork under my foot as I stand, tipping my toe forward to hide it.
“No, thank you,” I say, the words foreign on my tongue. I set the bowl back through the bars and offer a tight-lipped smile.
He takes a moment to chew, then swallows before gathering the dishes. As he moves to leave, he freezes. “Sorry, I’m actually going to need that.”
I fake a look around and he points to my feet.
He stands by the bars, waiting, while I pick up the utensil and cock an eyebrow.
“Are you going to come in here and take it from me?”
His eyes go wide. “Oh, no. I don’t even have the key. I’d have to ask Rune. Or Tavi. Tavi would probably beat him here, honestly. She’s fae so she’s really fast. And she hates Vipers. She’s mad Rune hasn’t tied you up and tossed you back into the ocean yet and Elio mostly agrees but he always sides with Rune. Anyways you don’t want Tavi down here—once I saw her pop a watermelon with her thighs. She did it on a dare but it seemed strange to waste food. The quail ate it though. She likes the eggs! Hates the quail though because she says they shouldn't be in the galley but I keep the lights out when I’m not in there because she’s afraid of the dark so she won’t go inside—don’t tell her I told you that by the way she’d probably pop my head like the watermelon anyways, can I have that fork, please?”
His expression is so open that I snort and relent, groaning at the pain in my shoulder as I reach down to grab it.
“Oh. And sorry for not checking your injuries. Captain wouldn't let me.” I watch him for a moment before tossing it out through the bars. Rune can’t be very experienced if this is the crew he keeps. I’m sure if I’d tried to hand it to the boy directly, he’d have made the mistake of getting too close. I don’t want that temptation, so I back away, letting my weight settle against the hull wall as he disappears up the stairs.
Sleep stays out of reach, though the ship rocks gently. It’s always been strange to know that, down here below deck, water surrounds me on all sides. Nothing but wood stops it from spilling in, filling this cell, crushing me to the top even as I struggle against the inescapable pressure. There is no malice in the sea, but it is vicious all the same. Sweeping, powerful beyond that of kings or gods.
I shake my head.
I’m used to pushing down the fear. But panic has always had a strange way of sneaking in, coiling my muscles into loaded springs, drawing me tight like a crossbow, a hair's breadth away from violence.
When I can take it no more, I stand, preparing to let the shift take me. I’d swept the sand from my skin, ripped away my already-torn sleeves and tied the mess of my hair back with a strip of the fabric. But none of it mattersif I can’t remove the chains on my wrist. My stomach flips in anticipation, my gut a mess of flittering minnows.
The world quiets as I draw inward, but the sensation makes me panic, instinctively averse to the idea of being vulnerable while the change happens. I shake my head again. There’s no one here. There hasn’t been anyone here for hours. I try again, breathing deep, letting the air in my lungs be a reminder that in this moment, I am alive, breathing. I’m safer here than I have been for the last sixteen years, since the last time mother took me ashore to doze in soft meadows and sprint through towering forests.
A warmth blooms in my middle, and I hold on to that memory, relaxing into the change in my limbs, feeling the shape of the world mold around my shifting perspective. The bars feel closer now, the cell smaller. The edges of my vision blur, magnifying in the centre. Delicately, I flip my front two feet, flinching away from the clanking of the chains. The movement causes my hind end to bump the wall, and it’s an act of furious willpower to stifle the instinct to kick out. It’s been too long since I tried this. There’s no way I’ll be able to control her for long.
The feeling of being caged already has my heart racing, prey drive overriding frustration in this form. I can’t stay this way, so I drop down, tucking my legs beneath me, nestling into the straw. This body is bigger and clumsier than it used to be, and much more foreign: thin, delicate legs, short spotted fur, ears that twitch at every sway of the ship. My legs tense, registering the threat—no,I can’t think of the water now.
