Private Tales I of the Storm

[Gal]

Getting a fire going was a straightforward task. She’d left her home isle in the blossom of youth – heeding the call of adventure, she’d tell people, tough the truth was a rather different beast – the lessons inculcated on the hunt were not easily washed from her bones. Knowing when and how to make flame was as key to surviving the jungle as a light step and a keen eye.

Besides the obvious – preparing delicious meat – fire had other uses besides. Ritual and scarring, certainly, but in a very real sense it made of the isles a home. Her people had mastered the art of burning out the forest centuries ago, reclaiming space from the green sprawl to build their circled villages.

The kindling began to smoulder before her, and Gal shook the cobwebs from her skull. She fanned the dancing little flame until it took well, lapping hungrily at the wood.

The nazrani sat back on her haunches with a pleased set to her jaw. It was the sound of her mother tongue bringing all this nonsense to the fore, was all.

She lingered far longer than necessary in front of the pyre, not quite yet willing to face the seawitch yet. It was only when the heat became unbearable that she scrambled to her feet and meandered over the beach to where Noelani was finishing up the lean-to.

Best for their health and sanity that they minimised the time they spent together. Gal definitely didn’t have the patience for another holier-than-thou soliloquy.

 

[Noelani]

Lani stepped back to examine her work with her hands on her hips.

She was used to feather beds and down pillows, yes, but she was also very familiar with cramped hammocks and a hard deck with nowt but a coil of rope for a place to rest her head. As a sailor, it was take what you could get in the moments of peace there were. There was never any notion of when a pirate might be spied upon the horizon and the chase begin. So, she considered the lean-to not to be the worst of places she had slept, even if the company was certainly more sour. She had lashed the sturdiest looking logs and pieces of timber into two sections then carefully leant them up against the swaying trees. From there she had been able to attach the canopy which would serve well enough as a roof unless they were blessed with a monsoon.

Her eyes flickered briefly to the pirate when she joined her.

"Your sticks are there," she nodded to the pile left behind and kept her face perfectly neutral. "It'll be dark soon, best to get fixing up your shelter."

 

[Gal]

Her arms ached. Her back was sore. Her forearm still burned where she’d made her offering of blood to the deep. As if that weren’t enough, mosquitoes had eaten her alive while she’d been chopping wood.

And now insult to injury.

“You gonna fix up your own pyre?” Gal sneered and pushed past the noble.

Ducking under the canopy, the nazrani sat down for the first time in hours. Well, ‘sat’ was maybe a bit generous. She pretty much collapsed onto the bed of leaves, back against the tree. She closed her eyes and willed her tired muscles to relax with a long exhale.

“There’s smoked fish by the fire if you’re hungry.”

 

[Noelani]

"Thank you," laughter danced beneath the surface of her words and then the Mchawi was gone.

Lani told herself she wasn't avoiding the pirate as she took her time in walking back after fetching and eating the smoked fish. It was just that she needed to clear her head and think. The pyre would surely fetch them attention she just had to make a plan for if it was the wrong intention. It would not just be the her Amada that were searching for them along the beach. Pirates would no doubt be searching for easy pickings, like a shark during a storm. If she could over power enough perhaps she could at least take one of their boats and row out.

Or there was always walking.

Sea walking took a lot of magic and she did not yet have the strength for that either, but maybe she could get far enough to spot a sail and swim the rest of the way. Lani sighed and rubbed at her temples. She was exhausted from the days labour and the toils of the wreck so in the end she let her feet carry her back to the shelter.

She threw herself down onto the bed of leaves with the same enthusiasm as Gal had earlier and with a contented sigh rolled onto her side. Sleep first.

And hopefully not get stabbed in the back whilst doing so.

 

[Gal]

The dawn found Gal already stirring, her body long tuned to the patterns of the sun. Ship shifts were short and merciless – four hours in good weather, two if sailing cold or stormy waters.

The deep cut on her forearm had scabbed over well, the skin puckered into an angry red line. In a few days it would join the white marks that criss-crossed her flesh. Another drop of blood in the ocean of her life.

Gal didn’t disturb the witch as she rose from the bed of leaves to go check on their pyre. The sand was still cool under her feet as she inspected the kindling, pleased to find the centre of the pile was still warm with embers. It was easy work to feed the hungry little flames again, coaxing them back to wakefulness even as the sun slipped free of sea’s embrace.

She turned her gaze to the horizon after she’d put two fresh fish on a spike for breakfast. Her heart skipped a beat as the flash of distant white caught her eye. It was too far still to tell what flag they flew; whether they’d put Gal in the giblet or adopt her into the crew.

After a moment’s hesitation, the nazrani stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Sail to the south!”

 

[Noelani]

When Lani woke it took a few beats to recall where she was. It was not the first time she had been greeted with a makeshift roof of leaves above her head, or the feeling of sand beneath her back. Storms and even pirates had driven her crew ashore before. Though none of them had seen her marooned with one of her advisories before. She lay there, staring up at the green canopy above her, contemplating on what her next move might be.

If the sails were friendly for her, she might have to somehow battle the witch to get her onboard in chains.

If the sails were friendly for her unlikely companion, then she still might have to battle the witch to let her on board in the first place.

Either way she did not see the day going well.

With a deep, resigned sigh she crawled out of the hut and joined Gal upon the white sands, staring at the horizon and the approaching ship. She squinted against the hazy sun.

"It doesn't sail a flag," which might not be a good sign for either of them. Lani added a third option to the list of ways that morning could go; fighting with a pirate. What a turn of chance that would be.