Making A Splash

Chapter 10

■

In retrospect, maybe my plan wasn't as foolproof as I initially thought.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I missed whatever the dog man shouted next, but I could tell from the volume that he was closer than he had been. Beside me, Bart's legs moved, and he started to slide out from the booth, but the bare, clawed feet of the dog man appeared at the edge of the table before he could, and suddenly he was crouching down and scowling at me.

“There you are!” he barked, baring his teeth. They looked very sharp. “Get out here!”

“No, thank you!” I shouted back, pushing myself further back into the crevice between where the table met the wall.

“Don't make me come in there after you!” the man shot back, before Bart, who had finally reached his feet, grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back upright.

“That's enough of that,” Bart said, his voice devoid of any hint of concern, despite the enraged dog man now growling at him instead of me.

“I heard what she said!”

Bart might have said something in response to that, but I didn't hear it. As soon as the man's eyes were off me, every fiber of my being screamed at me to move before he could find me again. With Bart grabbing him, his legs had turned, and the gap between him and Bart created an opening perfectly sized for me to escape through.

Mustering some degree of courage, I pried my back off the wall and scrambled forward and out from under the table, shooting right between Bart and the dog man’s legs, the latter of whom yelped in surprise and fury.

“Oh no you don't!” I heard him shout behind me, then the sound of a scuffle as he ripped himself free of Bart's grasp.

I'd meant to climb to my feet and break into a run as soon as I was free of the table, but I instead found myself continuing to scramble on all fours, my body perpendicular to the floor I was rapidly traversing. I felt a hand graze the fur on the tip of my tail and, still letting my instincts guide me, threw myself to the side into a tumbling roll. I came out of it still running, but I heard my pursuer shout and curse over the combined din of the agitated crowd.

My eyes frantically scanned for escape routes. The door? It was wide open, but there wasn't a straight shot there, I'd have to weave around too many tables. Up, then. I spotted a table that was mostly empty and pumped my limbs faster to reach it ahead of my pursuer. I leapt, planting one foot in the center of the table, deftly avoiding the plate of fried fish and the tall mug beside it, and sprung off of it again before I could lose my momentum. I threw my arms up, catching the beam of the rafters overhead, and swung all the way around it like a gymnast, tucking my legs in and landing in a crouch atop the wooden beam.

It was only after I'd done all that that I realized the beam I was sitting on was almost ten feet in the air, a distance I never would have attempted to jump had I been thinking clearly. Seeing the floor so far away, I yelped, wrapping my arms around the vertical support beam that the rafter was connected to, holding on for dear life while the angry dog man arrived below me. Growling, he jumped towards me, but fell well short, his clawed hands catching only empty air. I'm not too proud to say that I hissed and swiped my claws right back at him.

“Get down here, you little—”

He didn't get to finish his sentence. The dog man had been in the process of grabbing the beam I was currently clinging to, clearly intending to climb up to me, but before he could, the air inside the inn rippled. A mountain appeared at his back, casting a dark shadow over him, and a hand the size of a dinner plate landed on his shoulder.

“You want some too—” he growled, half-turning, claws bared again, but froze when he saw Felda’s smiling face and, more importantly, the several feet of height she had on him. He stared, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

“I think you need to cool off,” Felda said, and before the stunned dog man could respond, she hoisted him up like a sack of potatoes and marched to the wide open double doors of the tavern. A few of the various patrons cheered or clapped as she passed, including some of the pirates. No, wait, especially the other pirates.

Once at the door, she unslung the dog man, holding him by one arm and one leg and, ignoring his half-formed protests, swung him back like a golfer about to make a record-breaking drive, and tossed him. He went sailing out the open doors, his shout fading as he disappeared. There was a half-second of quiet, and then a distant splash. And then a second, and a third, even more distant, before silence finally settled over the tavern like a blanket.

Felda turned back to the room, brushing her hands off, and smiled.

“Apologies for the interruption. Please, enjoy your meals,” she said, and the crowd laughed, most of them already going back to their food. I saw both Elle and Mel poke their heads up from behind the bar, coming back out to resume their duties. A few of the pirates left their seats to cluster around the door, checking on their crewmate, who even now I could hear cursing and paddling back to shore. Bart emerged from the far corner, a dark expression on his face and looking more than a little rattled.

“Are you hurt, Sam?” Felda asked, suddenly beneath me. I looked down at her, blinking, still not quite over what I just saw. “I’m sorry for not coming sooner.”

“Me?” I said, incredulous. “I’m fine, he didn’t even touch me, I’m more worried about him. You threw that guy really hard.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Mel said as she passed, a tray of empty plates in her hands.

“Oh, he’ll be fine, just a quick dunk to cool his head,” Felda said, chuckling, then held her arms up. “Come now, let’s get you down from there.”

“I can get down myself!” I huffed, finally releasing my death grip on the support beam, shifting myself so I was seated on the rafters with my legs dangling. “Maybe I like it up here, huh?”

Felda, and a few of the patrons nearest to me, snickered at that, and she continued to stand there with her arms outstretched, one eyebrow raised. I sighed, and lifted myself off the beam, turning so I could grab it with my hands and lower myself down into Felda’s arms. When I felt her hands close around my midsection, I let go, and she took my weight effortlessly. Instead of setting me down immediately, like I expected, she instead pulled me into a brief but crushing hug that squeezed all the air out of my lungs in a startled “Oomf!”

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt, Sam,” Felda said, releasing me and setting me, a little dazed, down on the floor. Her hand landed on the center of my head, and the gentle petting helped my racing heart finally calm down.

“H-heh, thanks…” I said, lowering my head.

“It's my fault you had to step in, I underestimated him,” Bart said, approaching from the side, lightly rubbing at his chin. His eyes flicked down to me, and in a lower tone he whispered, “that was not a wise thing to say, Sam. You should retreat to Felda’s room before—”

“Allow me to be the next to apologize.” A new voice cut Bart off—a high, calm voice that came from behind me, making me jump and spin around to face its owner. It was the elf with the blue skin and blue robes; the pirate captain. He smiled down at me, his eyes half-lidded, as though he were very tired, then turned to Felda.

“Zevrelos Shadeleaf, captain of the Cerulean Shade,” he said, tipping his ridiculously wide hat at Felda.

“Felda Stoutsinger, owner of this tavern,” Felda said, still idly patting my head. As much as I hated to, I ducked out from under her hand, putting myself beside her instead of in front of her. I didn’t think anything was likely to happen between them, but I’d still rather not be in the way, just in case.

“Yes, let me first apologize to you, for the disturbance my second caused,” Zevrelos said, pressing his hands together in front of him. “I will, of course, pay for any damage he may have inflicted.”

Glancing around the tavern, Felda smirked. “Thank you, but I don’t see any broken tables or smashed up chairs.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and nodded. “And the one you really should be apologizing to is Sam here.”

Zevrelos’ tired, icy blue eyes drifted down to me again, studying me for an interminably long second, as though actually seeing me for the first time. “Of course,” he finally said. A smile spread across his face and he bobbed his head, placing one hand on his chest. “My deepest apologies, young lady, for any distress that Duke may have caused you. I truly do not know what came over him.”

“I-it’s fine, really,” I said, waving my hands and trying to laugh off the frankly excessive apology. I was actually starting to feel bad over how concerned everyone seemed about me, especially since I knew the dog guy, (Duke, apparently) hadn’t just attacked me out of nowhere.

Speak of the devil; the pirates around the door moved aside and Duke sloshed back into the tavern, dripping wet and seething, oblivious to the consoling words and shoulder pats he received from his crewmates. His eyes landed on me first, then flicked to Zevrelos beside me and Felda and Bart behind me, and he pulled an abrupt about face, heading right back out the door he just came through.

“Duke,” Zevrelos called out without actually raising his voice, and Duke stopped, growling something under his breath before turning back around and resuming his soggy trek into the tavern. Despite myself, I found myself backing up a little further, trying to put Felda in front of me, but her reassuring hand on my back kept me from doing so.

Duke stopped a few feet away, and seemed to be having trouble deciding what kind of expression he wanted to make. He obviously wanted to keep death-glaring down at me, but the presence of Felda and Bart in addition to his captain kept him from really pulling it off, and the whole time his ears were laid completely flat against his head.

“Well, let me take care of that first,” Zevrelos said, pulling one of the wands from his belt and pointing it at Duke. I tensed, but as he waved the short length of white wood with blue inlays like a conductor, all the water that had soaked into Duke’s clothes, hair, and fur was pulled away, forming into a floating orb the size of a basketball, which he sent soaring back out the door with a flick.

“Huh… neat,” I said, causing Duke to narrow his eyes at me.

“Now then, Duke, I believe you owe this young lady an apology,” Zevrelos said, tucking the wand back into his belt. I couldn’t help but stare at it and its twin for a second, the other wand made of black wood with gold inlays. My thirst for Bart to teach me magic only grew at the sight of them.

“You didn’t hear what she said…” Duke growled quietly, and I sucked in a breath, tensing up despite Felda’s hand on my back. I still didn’t quite understand what was going on here, but it was now obvious, painfully so, that what I understood the word “pirate” to mean and what it actually meant to the people of this world did not match up. Rower’s Rest didn’t strike me as a lawless hole for cutthroats and outlaws to hide away in, and, aside from Duke, the pirates had all acted no differently than any other customers.

Though, when they heard what I’d said about them, that was likely to change.

“No, I didn’t. I can’t imagine what series of words would push you to attack a child though,” Zevrelos said reproachfully, tilting his head and arching one thin eyebrow, inviting Duke to elaborate. While I wanted to correct Zevrelos that I was not a child, I was currently holding my breath, waiting for Duke to drop the other shoe.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just looked at me with smoldering eyes, with the intimidating figures of Bart and Felda at my back and, through clenched teeth, he spat, “My… apologies…”

“Good,” Zevrelos said, placing his hands together in front of him again. “Return to the ship with the others. You can come ashore again tomorrow.”

That, if anything, made Duke look even more crestfallen, but he turned without a word of protest and began to stalk towards the doors. I stared, the breath I’d been holding coming out in a rush, and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why didn’t he say anything? Did he think his captain wouldn’t believe him over me, or that Felda would throw him out again? It probably wasn’t a stretch to assume that Felda would side with me if I denied it, so did he just not think it was worth it?

As I stared at Duke’s back and watched him trudge away, leaving me to get off scot free after insulting him and the rest of his crew, innocently or not, I felt an enormous pit open up in my stomach. All I had to do to avoid bringing a potential ton of trouble back on myself was let him leave and go back to my table.

I turned my head, peering up at Bart over my shoulder. He met my eyes, then heaved a silent sigh.

“W-wait!” I shouted, taking a step forward. “He's right!”

Duke paused mid-step, just before the open doors, and looked back over his shoulder, suspicion written all over his face. I turned to Zevrelos, shaking my head. “He… he’s right, he didn’t just attack me for no good reason!”

Zevrelos tilted his head down, obviously waiting for me to continue, and, having already thrown my chance out the window, sighed and said, “I… may have implied that I thought all pirates were… dangerous criminals.”

There was an expected amount of commotion at my admission, from both the regular patrons and the pirates, but the most extreme reactions came from Felda and Duke.

“Ha!” Duke barked, whirling around and charging back over to Zevrelos’ side, pointing down at me. “I knew that’s what I heard!”

“Why would you say something like that, Sam?” Felda asked, putting both hands on my shoulders and turning me to face her, fixing me with a concerned frown. She looked confused, a little hurt even, and that was the last clue I needed to cement my theory. She sounded like I’d insulted a bunch of nuns or firefighters or something.

“W-well…” I stammered, my cheeks burning from the intensity of the attention all now focused squarely on me, trying to come up with a good answer on the fly. It couldn’t be the whole truth, especially not here in the center of a crowded tavern, but it could be part of it. “I… thought that’s what they were? I’ve never actually seen real pirates before, I only know what I’ve been told about them, which, I see now was obviously wrong, so… if that's not what they are, what are they?”

A hush fell over the room. Felda’s eyebrows went up, and she seemed at a loss for words, looking to Bart for assistance. Beside me, Duke seemed to be having an equally hard time wrestling with what I’d just said, while Zevrelos brought a hand up to his chin and slowly stroked it.

“Mmh… interesting,” Zevrelos said. Throughout the tavern I could hear several of the patrons also starting to mutter amongst themselves, and I knew I’d just dug myself one hell of a hole. “Well, it seems like this was all due to a simple misunderstanding. I would be delighted to enlighten you on the true nature of the noble calling of the pirate, if Miss Felda would allow it, but I think we should find someplace more… discreet to have that conversation.”

Felda’s face finally fell back into a less intense expression, and she stopped staring holes through me to consider Zevrelos. She didn't seem any more at ease, but I figured she was just still shaken from my apparently enormous social faux pas.

“I… yes, that would be fine,” Felda said, sighing as she stood up straight, keeping one hand on my shoulder while motioning towards the bar. “Let’s take this to the kitchen.”

Ah, geez, why do all the difficult conversations have to happen in the kitchen?

Felda led the way and I reluctantly followed, with Zevrelos and Duke trailing behind me. I thought Bart was going to follow, but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, and when I looked back to find him again, he had disappeared. I was a little worried, but I knew I would see him again later, so I kept walking. As a group, we rounded the bar, and Felda stopped to hold the door open for the rest of us. I slipped inside, taking a deep, steadying breath of the oil-and-fish-scented air of the kitchen, then made way for the rest of the procession.

“Oh, girls, Viktor,” Felda said, turning back halfway through the door. “No more orders until I’m finished here. Drinks are half off till then.”

As Felda eased the kitchen door closed and lowered the wooden shutter that blocked off the serving window, the tavern erupted into cheers, and I knew we wouldn’t have to worry about being interrupted or overheard.

“That’s quite… generous of you,” Zevrelos said with a tired smirk, having removed his large hat and placed it on the edge of one of the counters. “I’m sure my crew will thank you in the morning.”

“I’m sure,” Felda agreed distantly, walking past to attend to whatever was left on the stove or in the oven. Nothing smelled burnt, at least. “Are you still hungry, Sam?”

“Uh, no, no, I’m totally stuffed,” I said, patting my stomach.

“I’m pretty fuckin’ hungry,” Duke grumbled, receiving an admonishing swat to the chest from Zevrelos.

“Duke, mind your language,” Zevrelos said, casting a significant glance in my direction. I rolled my eyes and scoffed, but before I could open my mouth to explain, Duke did the exact same thing and gestured at me.

“Oh, come off it, she ain’t a kid,” Duke said. “She’s just short.”

“Thank you!” I shouted, throwing my hands into the air, then immediately brought them back down. “Hey!”

Duke, for his part, snorted at my irritation. Zevrelos once again stroked his chin as he looked at me.

“Truly?” he asked.

“Yes,” I sighed, crossing my arms and nodding at Duke. “I’m nineteen. So far, he’s been the only one to get it right.”

“That’s ‘cause most people are only lookin’ with their eyes,” Duke said, smirking and tapping his nose.

“Oooh…” I said, then, after I’d fully processed his words, I jerked back and furrowed my brow. “Wait, ew! What does that mean?”

Duke’s only response was to throw his head back and laugh at the ceiling, and I even saw his bushy tail begin to wag behind him as he did so.

“Ahem,” Zevrelos said into his sleeve, smiling at me while Duke came down from his laughing fit. “As delightful as it is to see that you do not intend to hold a grudge against Duke, I would not want to drag this out too long. I’m sure your…” Zevrelos trailed off, turning to look at Felda, who had finished tidying up and now leaned against one of the counters. “...I’m sure Miss Felda would appreciate it. Don’t want my crew to drink her dry.”

Felda just chuckled from her position against the counter.

“Uh, right, yeah,” I said, looking around and, at a loss for what else to do, hopped up onto one of the empty counters so that I wouldn’t be standing around looking up at everyone the whole time. “So, uh, I guess we should start with… what pirates actually are, and what they do?”

“Indeed, and what fascinating questions those are,” Zevrelos said, steepling his fingers in front of him, his icy blue eyes twinkling. “You see, it all began over a thousand years ago, with the formation of the First Fellowship of Pirates…”

■

“Mmh… okay…” I said, swallowing the strip of fried cod I’d been chewing while I thought. Felda had wound up making two baskets, one to give to Duke since his grumbling (both from his stomach and his mouth) threatened to derail the conversation, and one for me because, as it turns out, I’m always hungry where fish is concerned.

“I… think I get it now,” I said, taking a sip of lemonade to stall for more time while I tried to compile everything I learned from Zevrelos’ explanation.

Just as I’d thought, “pirate” meant something entirely different in this world. Instead of outlaws who roamed the seas, chasing down any ship they could and stealing anything of value aboard, pirates here were… still technically outlaws who roamed the seas, but only chasing down certain ships. Specifically, ships belonging to “the Empire,” which people around here seemed to only ever refer to as “the Empire,” which was incredibly unhelpful to me. They would then steal anything of value aboard those ships, but not to keep all for themselves.

It involved a lot of flowery language on Zevrelos’ part, and a few helpful clarifications from Felda, but I got the gist; while some of the money was kept to be used to pay for things, and to compensate the crew, for the most part pirates weren’t out to make it rich, but were, in fact, a tight knit organization of boat-based Robin Hood-esque freedom fighters. Some pirates would attack ships full of supplies bound for Empire colonies, but then go ahead to those very same colonies and distribute the goods to the people most in need of them, or stage attacks on Empire naval ports in order to sabotage or destroy their warships while they were docked, weakening their navy and stalling their attempts to spread the Empire’s influence any further.

The fact that, despite all that, pirates were welcomed with open arms here in Torgard, and apparently everywhere else in the world except for the Empire, told me that this Empire was not simply an unpopular country with bad opinions about demihumans, but an active menace that the rest of the world hated.

“Well, I, uh, I feel really bad about what I said now,” I finally said, meeting Zevrelos and Duke’s eyes. With the new context I had, I could totally see why my earlier comment would be cause for alarm or outrage to anyone around here, pirate or not. Duke had probably thought I was some kind of Empire sympathizer or spy or something when he overheard me. I was glad I’d managed to pass my mistake off as genuine ignorance; I’d much rather people assume I was dumb and naive instead of actually malicious.

“Hey, you’re tellin’ me,” Duke said, sighing and scratching the back of his head. “I feel like a real horse's ass, chasin’ you up the wall over somethin’ you couldn’ta even known was wrong, you bein’ a catkin an all…”

“Indeed, but the true fault does not lie with you, my friend, or young Sam here,” Zevrelos said, cryptically waving one of his hands before resting it on Duke’s shoulder. “The incident has passed, let it be as sand castles to the tides.”

“I… uh, sure,” I said, blinking. I… wasn’t sure I liked the way Duke had phrased that last part, but I wasn’t about to go and start a fresh argument so soon after the last one had been resolved, so I just let it drop.

“Agreed,” Felda said, rising from her spot against the counter. Aside from the times I’d looked to her for clarification of something Zevrelos had said, she’d remained worryingly quiet during the whole affair. As she passed between the counters, she paused before me, and I lifted my head to meet her eyes. For just a moment, her expression remained cloudy, whatever unknown concerns she was grappling with in her mind keeping her from projecting her usual ever-pleasant attitude. Then, she smiled at me, as warm and caring as ever, and brought her hand up to my head, patting once and scratching lightly behind one ear. I smiled right back and titled my head to meet her hand, letting myself purr and for once not devoting a single second to trying to stop it, despite the two strangers in the kitchen.

“I’m glad you are okay, Sam,” Felda said quietly, and continued past me.

“Me too…” I whispered, mostly to myself.

With my view unobstructed, I could see Zevrelos and Duke again. The former’s half-lidded eyes were sparkling as they regarded me, and the latter had his arms crossed and his neck craned all the way back, staring directly at the ceiling. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the towering, muscular dog man who’d metaphorically chased me up a tree a short time ago looking so uncomfortable at the brief display of affection. Honestly, I’d probably still be in his shoes, if I’d ended up in this world as my old self.

My… actual self, I quickly corrected, then shook my head vigorously to completely clear it of the topic.

Across the kitchen, Felda removed the wooden shutter from the serving window. Outside, the tavern was alive with the sound of inebriated sailors singing some bawdy song about a woman who fell in love with a hurricane.

“I hope everyone’s had their fill!” Felda shouted out the window, and was met by a chorus of whoops and cheers, and the unmistakable sound of someone falling out of a chair. She turned back to Zevrelos, smiling broadly.

“I will, of course, pay for any damages,” Zevrelos said, smiling right back. To me, he said, “It was quite a delight to meet you, young Miss Sam, thank you for giving me an opportunity to ramble about ancient history.”

“Yeah, you’re fun, for a land dweller,” Duke said, grinning at me, apparently having gotten over his embarrassment. “We’re gonna be in port for a couple days, y’should come by the ship sometime.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” I said, blinking and hopping down from the counter, since the conversation was well and truly wrapping up now. I moved to follow Zevrelos and Duke to the kitchen door, but Felda's quiet voice stopped me.

“Sam, would you stay a minute?” she asked, and I turned, looking up at her again. Her tone and her expression were soft, but a part of me couldn't help but assume the worst regardless, and I could feel my ears start to droop, unbidden. Felda noticed, obviously, and held her hands up.

“I am not upset with you, Sam, I promise you,” she said, gently but insistently. “I just want to discuss something, but it is not urgent. It can wait until you’re feeling better, if you'd prefer.”

“Ah, uh, no, I'm okay, I'll stay,” I said, taking a deep breath and trying to still my suddenly racing heart. Felda must have learned from our last “discussion" after the incident at the bakery.

“Are you certain?” Felda asked, giving me another smile. Then, her eyebrows lifted as though she'd just remembered something, and she added, “And, just to be clear, you are allowed to refuse anything I ask of you, Sam.”

I briefly raised an eyebrow at that odd addition. I got the distinct impression it was something she’d been told she needed to say. By Bart, if I had to guess, but to what end?

“I… I know that?” I said, tilting my head. I'd never had reason to doubt that before, and Felda hadn't really asked anything of me since coming here. Still, maybe there was some merit in having the assurance stated out loud. “And, yes, I’m sure, I want to stay.”

I was a little nervous, of course, but the rational part of me trusted Felda, and if I left without even finding out what it was she wanted to talk about I’d just be dreading the unknown until the next time we met.

“Good,” Felda said, once again moving past me to return to the stove and countertop, picking up where she'd left off with the various dishes that had been put on hold. She retrieved a pre-cleaned slab of fish from the storeroom attached to the kitchen and, as she began slicing it with her back to me, she spoke. I wondered, briefly, how she’d kept it cold, as I could see the steam wafting off it, but quickly discarded the thought.

“I… want you to know something, Sam,” Felda said, an uncharacteristic hesitancy in her voice I'd not heard before.

“Okay,” I said, neutrally.

“Now, I hope you don't take offense to this, but it has been clear from the moment you arrived that you are of… especially uncommon background, and this most recent incident has only highlighted that,” Felda said, her movements at the cutting board slow and deliberate. Before I could even begin to tense up, Felda reassured me, “I am not here to ask you to reveal the exact details, unless you want to. I can understand you have your reasons for keeping your past a secret, and Gods know I do not wish to challenge them.”

More than you could possibly imagine, I thought with a dry smile. Out loud, I said, “I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” Felda said, chuckling lightly before returning to her serious tone. “I want you to know that, no matter what it is you’re holding back, it will not affect my commitment to helping you and seeing you back on your feet. Whoever or… whatever you were before you came here, whatever deeds you may have done, and whether you do choose to reveal them or not, I will not think less of you. I swear it.”

By the end of Felda’s impromptu speech, my eyes were moist, and I had to bite down on my lip with one of my fangs, but I managed to hold it together. When she’d first started, I almost bolted straight out of the kitchen, assuming she had somehow discovered the truth, but actually thinking about it, I figured she was still running off the same assumption that I was the lost pet catgirl of some rich noble family, or something equally ridiculous. I didn’t know what “deeds” she might have been referring to either, and I’d much rather keep it that way.

“Thank you,” I said, first off, suppressing the tremor in my voice. Whether or not she actually knew the truth of what she was really referring to, Felda had made a pretty big commitment just then, and I didn’t want her to think I was ungrateful. I cleared my throat a few times and continued. “That… means a lot to me. I know it must be frustrating for you, for everyone, not knowing anything about me, and I… want to try and fix that. There are some things I want to tell you and some things I… can’t tell you, but I don’t plan to keep you in the dark forever.”

Well, I had planned to do that as long as possible, but it’d only been two days and I’d already seen how untenable my earlier decision was. I wanted, maybe even needed, someone to confide in, and someone who I could ask all the questions I had about this world. At the same time, I felt a selfish urge to cling to the mystique my mysterious arrival provided me, and the feelings I got when I imagined telling Felda I wasn’t who or what I appeared to be caused the delicious dinner she’d cooked for me to turn into lead in my gut.

Despite what she’d promised, could she really see past the truth? And why did it matter so much to me?

“I just… want things to stay like this a little while longer,” I said, easing up on my lip before I could actually draw blood. At some point my eyes had become fixed to the floor as though they weighed a thousand pounds, and I’d crossed my arms over myself tightly. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, Sam,” Felda said without hesitation. There was a metallic groan and I felt a momentary flare of heat as the oven was opened and then closed. “There we go, now, come here.”

I lifted my head and found Felda’s understanding smile. She finished wiping her hands on a rag, then opened her arms, and I obligingly crossed the gap to step into them. A few tears leaked out onto her apron as she squeezed me, but I didn’t start sobbing this time. That’s progress, right?

“One of these days I’ll get out of this kitchen without crying,” I said, with my head still resting against her stomach.

“There’s nothing wrong with crying, Sam,” Felda said, gently admonishing me and patting the back of my head. “You are a small thing, after all, it’s no wonder there’s not enough room to keep all those emotions stuffed up inside you.”

I snickered and snorted and squeezed Felda back as hard as I could.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I said when I’d finally composed myself again, stepping back out of Felda’s embrace and mock glaring at her across the very long distance from my eyes to hers. “It’s not my fault I’m this short.”

“Of course,” Felda said obligingly, stepping back to the counter with one final pat to the top of my head. “I really do need to get back to work now. You’re welcome to stay, of course.”

I shook my head. “Nah, I’ll get out of your hair now. Maybe see if I can track down where Bart went off to.”

“Ah, alright then. You’ll probably find him on his boat, it’s just a little ways up the docks,” Felda said, smiling and waving me off, heading towards the storeroom again. I waved back and pushed my way out the kitchen door.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed when it was just coming in through the serving window, but the atmosphere of an entire tavern full of drunken pirates hit me like a bucket of water in the face. Several groups had thrown their arms around their neighbors’ shoulders and swayed together while they sang another song, this time one of those songs where every new line added an extra detail to the chorus, about, what else, a pirate who steadily worked his way through various colorful sounding drinks. A few of the pirates had even pulled out instruments, one of them being Zevrelos, who had a small harp-like instrument held in the crook of his arm that he plucked away at with startling ease.

“Welcome back, Sammie!”

Elle’s excited, slightly raised voice broke me out of the stupor I’d fallen into since returning to the main room. Knowing what was coming, I braced myself as I turned to her, but was still knocked slightly off my feet as she swept down to hug me as well. The sheer volume of crushing bear hugs in my life had drastically increased since coming to this world, and I was in no mood to think about what that meant tonight.

“I’m sooooo glad you didn’t get hurt!” Elle declared, lifting me slightly before setting me back down and giving me back some breathing room. “That dog guy was sooo angry, but the way you dodged him was sooo cool, I didn’t even know you could move like that! You just went like womph”—she used her hands to mime the motion of my mid-run tumble—“and then hup”—she threw both arms into the air, presumably just like I had done when I’d made my gravity-defying leap—“and next thing I knew you were in the ceiling!”

“H-heh, well, thanks…” I said, taking an extra step back and shrugging, lowering my head to hide my burning cheeks. “I wasn’t really thinking about where I was going, just trying to get away. I’m glad it worked though, things might have gone much worse if Duke had caught me before Felda showed up.”

“I bet,” Elle said, laughing, then raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile spreading across her round face. “Sooo, his name’s Duke, huh? I guess that means you worked everything out in there?”

“Yeah, the captain, Zevrelos, he, uh, he explained things to me,” I said, not at all liking the way Elle continued to smile at me, looking like she was in on some private joke just between herself. “I know all about pirates now though, so that's good. Won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Ah, yeah,” Elle said, finally returning to a more normal expression. “I want to say I hope when the word spreads people realize it’s not your fault, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you start getting funny looks while you’re out on the streets.”

“You mean, more than I already do?” I asked, chuckling when Elle's cheeks blushed slightly green and she nodded. I shrugged again. “Well, I’ve learned there’s not much you can do when stuff like that happens other than try to set the record straight, and keep your head down otherwise.”

Elle’s brow furrowed at that, and she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Mel shouted from across the tavern.

“Elle, if you don't stop chattering and come help me I'm going to kick your ass!”

Elle yelped, her cheeks going an even darker shade of green, and she rapidly backpedaled away from me while waving. “Oop, back to work! Bye Sammie!”

“Bye!” I shouted back, grinning. “I’ll be back in time to help with the dishes!”

I didn’t give her time to voice the objection I could clearly see on her face before I continued on my way, weaving around the tables of high-spirited pirates and good natured locals, many of both pausing to offer me a wave of a tankard or a shout of “Oy, catgirl!” as I passed.

As nice as it was to see so many people having a good time, I definitely felt relieved once I emerged onto the docks and put a few dozen yards between me and the Crooked Hook. With all the activity going on, the inside of the tavern had warmed up fast, and the air out on the docks was cool and refreshing in comparison. I stopped and leaned against a post, and for a while just enjoyed the atmosphere; the salt scented breeze off the bay, the pink-tinted moon overhead reflected on the water, and the sound of the water slapping the hulls of the many docked ships.

“Damn fine night, ain’t it?” a voice behind me asked, and I nearly shrieked and dove off the dock. I choked it down to a yelp and whirled around, finding a very startled looking Duke backing away and holding his hands up.

“Woah, woah, sorry!” he said apologetically, one of his ears drooping slightly. “I don’t mean to keep scarin’ ya, I thought you woulda heard me…”

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before I answered, shaking my head. “No, no, you’re fine, I just… I guess I was a little distracted, looking at the ocean.”

He was right, even I was surprised I hadn’t heard him approaching. On the other hand, he didn’t wear any shoes, and I imagined he could move pretty silently if he wanted to.

“I’m kinda surprised to find you this close to it,” Duke said, moving up to the edge of the dock to stand beside me, peering out. “Woulda thought you’d want to stay as far away from water as possible, ‘specially this much of it.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes.

“I’m not afraid of the water,” I said plainly. Duke turned his head and stared down at me, one incredulous eyebrow raised all the way up. I stared right back for a few seconds, then turned, looking past the edge of the docks at the water below.

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Duke said, reaching out, and I burst out laughing.

“I wasn’t actually going to jump in,” I said, leaning back. “That looks way too cold for me.”

“Good, you’d probably go into shock,” Duke said, letting out a sigh when it was clear I wasn’t about to dive into the bay. I chuckled a little more, then took another moment to admire the quiet scenery, broken up only slightly by the muffled sound of revelry from the many taverns behind us, Felda’s included.

“So, uh, there’s probably a less rude way to ask this, but, what’re you doing out here?” I asked finally, tilting my head back to look up at Duke again.

“Oh, heh, well I saw ya leavin’ and wanted to make sure you were really alright, after your, uh…” Duke trailed off, brow furrowing as he searched for the correct word.

“Felda?” I offered.

“Right, yeah, her, Miss Felda,” Duke said, nodding a few times. “When she asked you to stay back, I was worried you were gettin’ a talkin’ to. Figure that’s also probably my fault, too, and I still kinda owe you a real apology after, y’know, so… here I am?”

“Oh, huh,” I said, after he was finished. It really was a stark contrast, between the furious figure who’d seemed like he wanted to throttle me to death a little while ago and this awkwardly genuine personality he had on display now. It was hard to wrap my head around.

“Well, no, that was just some… stuff between me and Felda, nothin’ to worry about. I’m really feeling a lot better now,” I said, smiling and leaning one elbow on top of the post again. “I won’t say no to another apology though, if you really want. I could tell you didn’t mean that first one at all.”

“Heh, yeah,” Duke said, chuckling weakly, bringing a hand up and scratching at his chin. He stared off into space for several seconds before taking a deep breath, visibly centering himself, and looked to me again. “M’sorry I almost bit your head off back there. Zev’s been helpin’ me work on my temper, and I been goin’ along with it, but I still slip up sometimes.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it ,” I said, vaguely waving my free hand in the air. “It’s like waves on the beach, or whatever he said.”

Duke snorted, and we both shared a laugh. Finally, I pushed off the post again and stretched my arms in the air.

“Anyway, the real reason I came out here was to track down where Bart went,” I explained, groaning a little as I stretched, my back bending far more than I realized it was capable of. It felt so good I think I almost started purring.

“Oh, that old guy?” Duke asked, scratching his chin again and looking around.

“Yup,” I said, chuckling a little since I’d referred to Bart the exact same way just a day ago. “I wana check on him, and talk about tomorrow. He’s teaching me how to fish.”

“Wait, you fish?” Duke asked, again unable to hide his disbelief even a little bit. I wanted to say he wore his emotions on his sleeves, but his loose orange shirt barely had any sleeves to speak of.

“Heck yeah I do,” I said, grinning and poking a thumb into my chest. “You could even say ‘Fisher’ is my last name… er, because it is. Though, I’m not actually that good yet, I just started… Well, today. This morning, actually.”

It had just occurred to me how much I’d gotten up to in a single day. It was hard to believe I’d squeezed all that in along with two whole naps.

“That’s still damn impressive,” Duke said, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky. “Don’t usually hear about your kind gettin’ up to much of anythin’. Er, no offense.”

“None taken, I think,” I said, shrugging. “I’m… kind of an unusual case. Not exactly like the rest of… my kind.”

Regardless of whether it was to help uphold my cover, I still felt weird and vaguely uncomfortable referring to the other catkin as “my kind.”

“Still, m’sorry,” Duke said, quiet and somber. “Must’a been hard, growin’ up.”

Whatever response I’d been about to give died in my throat, and I had to clear it a few times, answering instead with just a nod. Damnit, how did everybody know exactly what to say to strike directly at the heart of my issues?

“Yeah, well, I’m here now,” I said, and proceeded to move past it, both figuratively and literally, walking around Duke and continuing up the docks. I paused after a few steps and turned around, looking back the way I’d come, towards Felda’s tavern. The docks continued in that direction as well.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Duke asked, thankfully dropping the previous line of conversation as easily as I had.

“Felda said Bart’s boat was just up the docks, but she didn’t say which way, and I’ve never seen it before,” I said, sighing and starting back towards the tavern.

“Oh,” Duke said as I passed, and when he moved to follow me I was pleased that I could, in fact, hear his footsteps on the dock.

“Ain’t this ‘Bart’ guy a friend of yours though?” Duke asked, and I paused to look back at him.

“Yeah? Well, I mean, sort of, he’s kind of a lot older than me—” I began to ramble, but Duke cut me off.

“But you been around him long enough to pick up his scent, haven’t you?” he asked, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh,” I said, furrowing my brow, then, again when I realized what he was getting at. “Oh!”

I had been thinking about exactly that a short while ago, after my latest nap! Still, there was a difference between thinking I might be able to track down Bart based on his unique scent, and actually doing it. I’d never done anything like it before but, then again, I’d never jumped from a table to a beam some ten feet in the air before either, so maybe tonight was just going to be a night of firsts.

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Closing my eyes so I could concentrate, I took one long, slow, extra deep inhale through my nose. The scents washed over me in a dizzying array. I could smell the sea, overwhelmingly so with how close to it I was, but I ignored it. I could smell the ships around me; wood and rope and oil and more salt, and something that tickled my nose and smelled like cinnamon and smoke. Duke was next to me and I could smell him too, sweat and metal and faint traces of some kind of fragrance, like flowers. So many scents drifted on the wind, and I could smell them all.

None of them were Bart, though.

I started to walk with my eyes closed, lifting my nose into the air and taking more rapid sniffs at the air, each one bringing a new mix of smells, each one that didn’t have a whiff of Bart in it discarded just as quickly. It was the olfactory equivalent of sorting through a tangled pile of differently colored lengths of string, trying to pick out one of a very specific color from all the rest, and I began to doubt if I was even capable of doing it.

Then, I caught a hint of paper and leather.

Excited, I turned and took another sniff, gathering up more of the threads that made up my mental imprint of Bart. Paper and leather, salt and sweat. Oil and herbs and dried meat and nuts, it was all there, and I opened my eyes now so I could break into a light jog. Duke appeared beside me, keeping up easily, grinning wide and wagging his tail as he ran.

We ran past several ships and empty docks, almost a dozen more taverns, before the loose scent I’d been following coiled together into a strong, singular smell, and I skidded to a halt. The boat tied up at the dock I stood at the mouth of was, as boats went, kind of small, at least compared to the larger two or three masted ships that took up most of the spots in the docks. This one had only one narrow mast right in the center, a little enclosed booth with the steering wheel behind it, and a large, square, open in the rear surrounded by a short railing with a narrow staircase in the center that led, presumably, down deeper into the hull. Like Bart’s enchanted dwarven fishing rod, his ship looked an awful lot like a modern day sailboat.

And there, seated on a chair with his back to the railing, was Bart, looking up from his book at my sudden and none-too-quiet arrival. I was panting pretty loud.

“Found you!” I declared, pointing a finger right at Bart’s unfazed face.

“Mmh.” Bart hummed, closing his book and setting it on a short folding table next to him, on which also rested a mug that released more of that fragrant, floral scent into the air. “So you did.”

Chuckling, I moved to step onto the little notched plank that served as a ramp from the dock to the boat, but Duke's hand grabbing the back of my shirt stopped me.

“Woah woah, hey, you can't just board a ship without asking!” he said frantically.

“What?” I asked, allowing myself to be pulled back from the threshold. “Why not?”

“It's tradition,” Duke said, releasing my shirt and nodding his head firmly. “And it's just good manners besides. Shows proper respect to the ship and her captain. Here, like this.”

Moving past me, Duke put one foot up on the gangplank, clearing his throat and straightening his back.

“Permission to come aboard?” Duke asked, then, after a momentary stumble, added, “Uh, Sir!”

Bart watched the whole thing play out in stoic silence, and for a few moments he just stared evenly at Duke and didn't respond, forcing him to maintain his stiff posture. Finally, Bart broke.

“Heh.” Bart let out a gruff laugh, leaning forward in his chair. “Lad's got the right of it. I'd have given you a pass, but another captain might take it as a slight, so that's a good thing to keep in mind.”

“Oh, okay then,” I said, glancing at the still rigid form of Duke. I assumed he was waiting for Bart to respond to the traditional request, presumably either giving or withholding permission to board. I didn't know if standing at attention until you got that answer was part of the tradition, but it did seem like Bart was taking his sweet time actually giving it.

Rolling my eyes, I gave Bart a look and asked, “So can we come up or not?”

“Aye, aye, permission granted,” Bart said dismissively, reclining back in his chair again and reaching for his mug. “What can I do for you, Sam?”

“Well, you disappeared so suddenly, I wanted to check up on you,” I said, strolling up the gangplank. Behind me I heard Duke let out a sigh like he'd been holding his breath, and then his footsteps as he followed.

My answer seemed to have given Bart pause, and he looked at me over the rim of his mug, taking a slow sip. Setting it back down, he raised an eyebrow.

“Check up on me?”Bart asked, sounding amused. “That's mighty thoughtful of you, Sam, but I think I'm still a few years off from needing to be looked in on by the village youths.”

I snickered, hopping down into the rear section of the boat, walking over until I was standing opposite Bart, and leaned my back against the railing. “Well, and I wanted to ask if there's anything I need to know for tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Bart said, nodding. “Same as before, just be up early. I'm sure Felda will insist on breakfast again, afterwards we'll make a quick stop for bait and head back to the river. I'll be teaching you a few more of the local species and what baits they prefer, and a few new tackle setups.”

“Neat!” I said, and meant it. I was still a little surprised how fun the actual act of fishing had turned out to be, and just the thought of expanding my toolset excited me.

“What about you, lad?” Bart asked, turning to a still uncomfortably stiff looking Duke, who hadn't proceeded much further onto the boat after stepping down from the ramp. “I don't suppose you just came along to escort the young lady.”

“Hey,” I said, huffing.

“Aye, sir,” Duke said, baring all his teeth in a broad grin. “I wanted to make sure she didn’t get scooped up by an owl and carried off into the night.”

“Hey!” I said again, louder. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

To demonstrate my point, I held up one hand and flexed my fingers, fully extending my claws for the first time. Duke laughed, but not in a mocking way, and grinned.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, seeming excited. His tail was even wagging again. “I’ve never seen how a catkin fights! I could have the crew roll out the practice mats when you stop by.”

“What?” I asked, lowering my claws. Was he serious? He was buff as hell and like, over a foot taller than me. “Uh, no, no, I was just joking. I’m pretty sure you’d wipe the floor with me in a fair fight.”

Duke scoffed. “Psh, ain’t no such thing as a fair fight, but, fine, s’up to you.”

He said that, but I could clearly see the moment his tail had stopped wagging, and the way his ears were wilting even as he continued to try and shrug my refusal off. Shit, was he really that excited to fight me? And was that what it was like whenever anyone talked to me? I hoped I wasn’t that transparent.

“If you really wana fight that much, you could probably ask Bart, I bet he’d like to kick your ass,” I said, motioning to the man in question, who gave me an unamused look from across the deck.

Duke went a little pale at that and chuckled nervously, holding up his hands.

“Ah, uh, no, I’m good. I don’t fancy gettin’ hurled into the ocean twice in one night,” Duke said, and I couldn’t hold back a snort. Turning back to Bart, Duke cleared his throat. “Actually, s’kind of why I’m here. When I heard she was comin’ to see you I tagged along, figured it couldn't hurt to come and clear the air, y'know, make sure there's no hard feelin's.”

“Hmmh,” Bart grunted in understanding, taking another sip from his mug. “Well, normally I'm the type to hold a grudge, but if Sam’s seen fit to forgive you, then I suppose I can’t rightly seal you in a barrel and send you out to sea.”

Duke stared back at Bart’s hard, stony expression for several seconds, probably waiting for a crack that never came, before flicking his gaze over to me.

“He’s joking, right?”

“Yes, and he’s not as good at hiding it as he thinks,” I said, smirking across the deck at Bart. Sure enough, as soon as I did, Bart averted his eyes and raised his mug to his lips, using it to hide the slight smile I saw spreading there.

“Can’t say I have the foggiest idea what you’re talking about, Sam,” Bart said, setting the now empty mug down and letting out a yawn. “I’m a cantankerous old man, remember?”

I snickered at Bart’s ridiculousness and stood up from the railing. “Need me to walk you home before you fall asleep then?”

“No need,” Bart said, standing and nodding towards the narrow staircase that led down into the boat. “I’ve got a couple of bunks on board.”

“Oh…” I said, peering deeper into the dim interior of the boat. “Wait, do you… live on this boat?”

Bart chuckled at that, already proceeding past me towards the staircase. “I do have a place up the coast where I keep my belongings, but this boat makes as good a home as any I’ve ever had on land. I’ll show you what she can do someday, if you hurry up and get good enough to earn your full license.”

Pausing with one foot on the first step, Bart nodded to me, lightly tapping two fingers to the corner of his brow in a casual salute.

“‘Til the morning, Sam. Sleep well, when you do.”

“Ah, goodnight,” I said, shuffling back over to the gangplank. What was it Felda had said last night? “And uh, may Sera watch your dreams.”

I was pretty sure I hadn’t gotten it exactly right by the way Bart let out a surprised bark of laughter as he descended into his boat. Duke struggled with a snickering fit behind me, following me back down the gangplank.

“I haven’t heard that one since I was a pup,” Duke said at my questioning glare.

“Is it only for kids?” I asked, already wondering if I was going to have to talk to Felda about it.

“Not entirely,” Duke said with a shrug, keeping pace beside me as I ambled back in the direction of the tavern. “Someone who’s also a follower of Sera might say it too… wait, why are you asking me this? Don’t you know?”

“Oh, ah, sh—” I bit off the end of the curse, shaking my head. Sighing, I held up a hand. “Sorry, what I mean is, no, I don’t. I’d never heard that before coming here, just like I’d never heard what pirates are like. There’s… kind of a lot I don’t know about the way things work, er, down here.”

“Oh, so you are one of those…” Duke said, crossing his arms behind his head and peering up at the starry sky. “I thought so, but you’re not as…” Duke dropped his eyes back down to me, appearing to carefully consider his next words before continuing, “...’delicate’ as they say you’re supposed to be.”

“Like I said, I’m an unusual case,” I said, chuckling and stuffing my hands into my pockets.

“I’ll say,” Duke said, smirking at the sky again, still walking with his arms behind his head.

We continued the rest of the walk in comfortable silence. The sounds of revelry grew steadily louder as we approached the Crooked Hook, until we were standing in the square of bright light spilling out the open doors of the tavern.

Duke took a few steps towards the doors before turning back to look at me.

“You comin’?” he asked.

“In a bit,” I said, my eyes fixed on a spot just above the doors.

There was a feature I’d never really taken note of in the front end of Felda’s tavern. It had a little fenced-in outdoor area to either side of the doors, with room for a few more tables and chairs, all covered by a short overhanging awning about seven or eight feet off the ground. Ever since I’d flung myself up into the rafters with surprising ease, I’d started to look at everything around me as though the world had had an entire new dimension added to it that I just couldn’t see before. I didn’t just want to know if I could get up on the awning, I wanted to be up on that awning.

Stepping back until my heel touched the edge of the docks, I took off running, shooting past a startled and confused looking Duke, until I was a few feet from the overhang. I jumped, using a barrel left on the outside of the little fenced-in area to spring off a second time, and grabbed ahold of the edge of the awning. Duke, as well as the patrons seated in the tables that faced the left side windows of the tavern, let out a few startled shouts that turned into words of encouragement as I hauled myself over the edge and plopped down onto my back on the overhang, panting from excitement more than exertion.

“Psh, cats,” I heard Duke say, from his lowly position down on the ground.

“Jealous,” I shot back, sitting upright again and peering down at him. “You go on, I’ll be just fine right here.”

“If you say so,” Duke said, giving me a wave and continuing until he was out of sight under the awning, returning to the tavern. I listened long enough to hear a few of his crew call out to him and pester him over what he’d been up to, but eventually I just tuned out everything going on inside and leaned back on the gently sloped wooden roof of the awning, resting with my arms behind my head. The night was cool but not chilly, and I found my little ledge to be quite comfortable.

“I think I could get used to this…” I said to the empty air, staring up at the pink tinted moon and the blanket of stars that made up the sky. I was just joking, I told myself. After I won the fishing competition, I knew I’d have to start looking around for information about what had happened to me, whether it was something anyone had heard of before and whether it was something that could be undone.

But, in the meantime, it looked like spending a month or so as a weird half-cat half-girl thing wouldn’t be so bad.

I laid there on the awning, and might have even dozed off for a light nap once or twice, until I heard the commotion going on below me shift from the inside to the outside, and sat up again. Blinking, I peered down as the crowd of pirates stumbled out the front of the tavern in twos and threes.

“Bye,” I called, amused at the number of pirates that jumped at the sound of my voice. “Come back soon.”

The crowd’s shock and confusion quickly gave way to laughter, and several of the pirates tossed drunken waves back in my direction. Duke and Zevrelos were among the last to leave, the former grinning at me as he went, the latter once again tipping his ridiculous hat. Once the press of bodies had trickled to a stop, I hefted myself up onto the edge and swung down, dropping in front of and thoroughly startling Elle just as she was about to close the doors of the tavern.

“Toldya I’d be back,” I said, snickering at her.

“Where did you come from?” Elle asked, after she was done pouting. She looked up at the awning and arched an eyebrow. “Were you just up on the roof the whole time?”

“Pretty much,” I said, smiling and strolling past her. “C’mon, I bet there’s a lot of dishes to take care of.”

Elle sputtered momentarily, then sighed and finished closing and latching the door behind me. Mel was already busy sweeping and Felda was wiping down tables as I entered, a little skip in my step as I raised a hand to wave.

“Someone’s in a good mood, huh?” Mel asked, looking up from her broom and smirking. “Did you and your new admirer have a good chat?”

“Mel!” Elle hissed.

“What?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You mean Duke? He’s not my ‘admirer,’ that’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Felda interjected, smiling playfully at me. “He did invite you to come visit him on his ship, didn’t he?”

“Did he?” Elle asked, her voice shrill, before she glanced at me and cleared her throat. “Ah, I mean… don’t tease poor Sammie like that!”

Mel burst out laughing at that while Elle descended on her, ineffectually swatting her on the shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I proceeded past them towards the kitchen. As expected, there was a mountain of dishes beside the sink, most of them mugs or cups or the tall wooden tankards. I fumed by myself for several seconds before I realized I didn’t know if there was a way to fill the sink without the magic Elle had demonstrated last night. There had to be, right?

Focusing on that let me completely forget the events of the last minute, so by the time Elle did make her appearance in the kitchen, I had already moved on completely.

“Sammie, I am so sorry about—”

“Yeah, yeah, hey, how do you fill the sink if you don’t know that water spell?” I asked, poking my head through the door that led into the storeroom, one of the few places in the tavern I hadn’t really explored yet.

Elle took a moment to answer, a little off-balance from my sudden change of topic. “Ah, oh, there’s a tank and some barrels out the back door.”

“There’s a back door?” I asked, looking over my shoulder. Elle smiled, pushing past me into the storeroom, ushering me to follow. I did so, and got a look at the room where Felda stored everything she used to keep the tavern running. It was a room about half the size of the kitchen, with shelves against all four walls and two extra in the center. There were barrels, sacks, and jars everywhere, reminding me of the general store, as well as loose items like wheels of cheese, a pallet of eggs, and strings of dried herbs hanging from the ends of several shelves.

“That’s the coldroom,” Elle explained, pointing to a metal door on the opposite end of the room. “That’s where the fish and things that don’t keep go.” Then, she pointed to another corner, where a thick wooden door banded with iron bars stood. “And that’s the back door. It’s mostly for deliveries, but that’s also where the water tanks are.”

Curious, I followed, and Elle unlatched the heavy looking door, which swung out instead of in, revealing another area of the tavern I’d never seen before. There were two huge tanks attached to the side of the building, one with a large valve and spigot on the bottom, one with a large pipe that connected it to the tavern.

“Woah,” I said, staring up at the tanks. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed these before, but like the outdoor seating area out front, this section of the tavern was covered by a little roof and shielded from the street by a little shoulder high wall and a gate.

“Yep, these are the tanks for clean and dirty water,” Elle said, knocking on the one with the valve with her knuckles. “Every two weeks the druids come by and top off the fresh water and, uh… collect the dirty water. They have to take it back to a special facility to clean it, but I hear there’s some really expensive taverns in the capital that can afford tanks with the purifying runes built right into them.”

“Huh, that’s really neat actually,” I said, since I was past the point of being surprised by the amount of infrastructure that this world managed to cover with applications of magic and ingenuity. “I guess those barrels there are for filling with water and hauling inside?”

“Yep,” Elle said, patting the top of one of the rows of wooden barrels placed next to the tank with the valve. “But they’re really heavy, so it’s a good thing you’ve got me. Let’s go tackle those dishes, hmm?”

With that we returned the way we’d come, ending up back in the kitchen before the sink, which Elle once again filled with the use of her magic. The sight of it once again had me buzzing with a mixture of excitement to learn magic, and jealousy that I wasn’t already learning magic.

“Soooo…” Elle began, in what she probably thought was a casual tone, while water was still gushing from her palms. “Are you gona go?”

“Are you ticklish, Elle?” I asked.

“W-what?” Elle asked, the tips of her ears going slightly green.

“I'm just wondering what'd happen if I poked you in the sides while you're doing that. Would you be able to stop the spell in time, or would you just start flailing and send water everywhere?” I asked, inching a little closer and wiggling my fingers ominously.

“P-p-point taken!” Elle said, squirming away from me, already fighting off giggles without me having to even do anything. I paused long enough to bring a hand to my chin and “Hmmm” as though I was seriously thinking it over.

“Mercy, please!” Elle pleaded, biting one of her lips in an attempt to stop giggling. “I'll buy you something from baker's row tomorrow!”

“Deal,” I said without hesitation, stepping back and hopping onto the empty crate turned step stool from the night before that Elle had helpfully retrieved on the way back from the storeroom.

I grinned while Elle heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief and slumped forward, then shut off the flow of water from her hands, both sinks once again two-thirds full of water.

“You're lucky you're so cute, you little goblin,” Elle said as she stood on her toes and grabbed the soap from the cabinets above the sink. That knocked the grin right off my face and left me desperately grasping for some kind of witty retort.

“Sh-shut up,” I managed to sputter out. Nailed it.

Elle giggled, pouring the floral liquid into her half of the sink, filling it with fragrant bubbles. She grabbed the nearest stack of dishes and slid them into the sink, and soon we were once again working in the same rhythm as the night before; Elle washed and rinsed, and dried and stacked.

While I didn’t think I would ever find the chore fun exactly, there was something nice and relaxing about the process. It was simple, and repetitive, and I could easily get lost in it while thinking about everything that had happened throughout the day, or just thinking about nothing when I got tired of that.

“How’s it going in here?” Mel’s voice broke me out of the trance, poking her head in through the service window and resting her chin on top of her crossed arms.

“Almost done,” Elle replied over her shoulder with a smile, easing the last stack of plates into the sink with a small splash. “Honestly, I can’t thank you enough for offering to help like this again, Sammie.”

“Well, I saw the size of that crowd,” I said, shrugging. “And, if you think about it, all these dishes are at least… sort of because of me. I wasn’t just gona leave you hanging like that. Besides…” I trailed off, momentarily losing the nerve to say what it was I wanted to say. It was stupid, I knew, especially with what I’d overheard earlier in the day, when the three of us were taking a break in the park. Taking a deep breath and hoping the pause wasn’t too conspicuous, I completed my thought.

“Besides, what else are friends for?”

I continued to swirl the washrag inside of the already thoroughly dry cup I was holding while peeking at Elle out of the corner of my eye. She was smiling so widely it was a wonder she didn’t pull something, and I think only the fact that she was up to her elbows in scummy, sudsy dishwater stopped her from throwing her arms around me.

“Right!” Elle said with something like triumph in her voice, and proceeded to scrub the remaining dishes with gusto.

I let out a silent sigh of relief and did my best to keep up, stacking plates and hanging cups on hooks. Ordinarily I would never have said something so cheesy, or presumptuous, but I already knew that Elle had a vested interest in befriending me, and I really saw no reason not to return the sentiment. She and Mel seemed more than nice enough, and Elle liked to call me cute, which I still wasn't sure how to feel about, not to mention how good she was at scratching around my ears…

Ahem.

So, just like that, I'd gained two new friends. Morgan would be so proud.

Once the dishes were finished, Elle and I joined Mel out by the bar, where Felda was waiting with a glass in her hand, a small amount of amber liquid inside that one sniff told me was strongly alcoholic.

“Great work tonight, girls,” Felda said, motioning with her free hand to the bar, where once again she had stacked their payment for the night's work. This time, there were two of the gold crabs instead of one and five silver clams, which I assumed was a bonus for the extra hectic shift covering the pirate's visit. Curiously, there was also a stack of four silver clams, which Felda scooped up and presented to me.

“Oh, don't tell me people are still donating,” I said with a sigh.

“No, no, I told them no more of that,” Felda said, smiling. “These are from me, for helping out, both last night and tonight.”

Hesitantly, I held out my palm for Felda to drop the coins into.

“I don't know, it was just a few dishes,” I said, hefting the coins in my hand and listening to them clink together. “All I did was dry them, Elle still did the hard part herself.”

“Maybe, but easy work is still work, and I'd see you rewarded for it,” Felda said, her tone gentle, but it was clear she felt strongly about what she was saying. “The last thing I want is for you to feel like your help is taken for granted.”

Well, I couldn’t really argue with that, even though I thought the chances of that happening were pretty miniscule. Nodding, I slipped the coins into my pockets.

“Does this mean Sammie gets a uniform now?” Elle asked eagerly.

“Never,” I said, crossing my arms firmly.

“We’ll see about that,” Elle declared theatrically, then giggled, pressing her hands together. “Soooo, after you get done fishing tomorrow, do you… want to come by mine and Mel’s place? We could have lunch! And then show you around the town some more!”

“Oh, uh, sure, that sounds great,” I said, blinking up at Elle, who was grinning again. “Though, I don’t think I know where your place is.”

“Oh, right, you wouldn't have been to that part of town yet,” Elle said, beginning to motion with her hands. “Okay, so, if you go to the corner at the end of this street and head up, go past the main road, then left at the next crossing when you see the park, you should be able to find the residential district. Then, just follow the signs, we're in Court Number Three, the first house on the right. Here, I'll write it down for you.”

Elle stopped pointing in various directions that I assumed corresponded with her instructions, and instead retrieved one of the little slates with paper tacked to them that she and Mel used to take orders, quickly scribbling down a hopefully condensed version of everything she'd just said and passing it to me.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, accepting the slip of paper and glancing at it before folding it up and putting it in my pocket as well. “I probably won't come right over though. After I get back from fishing I'll most likely need…” It pained me to continue, but, judging from the day I'd just had, I knew it was the truth.

“A nap,” I admitted with a sigh. “Just a quick one.”

Then probably another one closer to the evening. I really hadn't fully come to terms with just how many catnaps awaited in my future, but it was starting to sink in.

“That's totally fine,” Elle said, voice mild and composed, the smile frozen onto her face. I raised an eyebrow, having been expecting something like another delighted squeal at that.

“That's it?” I asked, suspicious.

“I didn't say anything,” Elle said, trying and failing to maintain that innocent smile.

“You were thinking it,” I said, huffing and rolling my eyes. “I guess I can't really deny it though, it is kind of… cute.”

“Yes,” Elle agreed, nodding sagely, then bending forward and placing both hands on my cheeks, mooshing them in while I did my best to deadpan back at her. “It should be illegal, how cute you are.”

“Alright, that's enough of that, c'mon you,” Mel said, snagging one of Elle’s arms and gently tugging her towards the door. “We'll see you both tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay!” Elle gasped, stumbling after while awkwardly trying to throw her cloak over her shoulders and wave at me and Felda at the same time. “See you tomorrow, Sammie!”

“Seeya,” I said, smiling at the pair's antics. They slipped out the doors, and Felda went over to re-latch them, then turned to me.

“Ready for bed?” Felda asked, moving to the first of the many glass-walled lanterns mounted around the tavern, opening it and blowing out the candle inside, taking with it much more light than a single small candle should account for. I hadn't noticed it before, probably because I'd had no need to, but the Tavern was lit by a surprisingly small number of candles, all placed quite far from one another, each one in one in a mounted lantern of black metal and slightly green tinted glass.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Felda said at my lack of an answer, and I blinked and shook my head.

“Sorry, I was just… are those candles magic? Or is it the lanterns?” I asked when Felda blew out a second candle, leaving a whole half of the tavern in shadow.

“The lanterns,” Felda said with a smile, waving me over to the third without extinguishing it. I strode over and she tapped a finger on one of the glass walls. I could now see that there was a closed loop of tiny etched symbols in the glass, running along the outermost edge of each tiny square. I squinted, feeling like I could almost read them if I stared hard enough.

“They’re enchanted to make the candles last longer and make the light more powerful,” Felda explained, opening the little door, and I saw another ring of symbols in the metal base of the center, where the candle was wedged. Felda gently blew it out, and now the only light left was from the last lantern, the one nearest to the stairs behind the bar.

“You go on ahead, Sam,” Felda said when she reached the last lantern, lifting it from its mount. “I still have a few things to take care of out here.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, continuing past and up the short set of stairs that led to Felda’s room. I wasn’t sure if that was actually true or if she was just giving me a bit of time alone to change before she showed up, but either way I appreciated it.

I found the soft pajamas waiting for me on the bedside table, folded up underneath the hair brush. I froze at the sight of it, but only for a second, before I reached out and slid it off onto the table. I changed slowly, telling myself I was not stalling, just being careful. When I took the time to dutifully fold up my clothes, I admitted that maybe I was stalling, a little. When I sat on the edge of the bed and just stared warily at the brush as though it were a loaded gun that could go off at any second, I conceded that I was stalling, and that I was being stupid.

“It's just a brush,” I grumbled to myself, reaching out. And yet, my hand refused to close around the handle.

That was where Felda found me when she entered; half off the edge of the bed, arm outstretched towards the brush. Nerves and embarrassment overtook my fear, and I snatched the brush up and held it to my chest in a white knuckled grip.

Felda just smiled as she entered, still carrying the lantern with her, though she had somehow lowered the intensity of it so that the light didn't fill up the entire room. I nodded back at her, clearing my throat and turning my back to her so she could prepare herself for bed as well.

I sat with the brush in my lap, turning it over and over while I waited for Felda to finish, and hoped against hope that she would just blow out the candle and climb straight into bed without asking any annoying questions like “Why haven't you started brushing your hair yet?” or, even worse, “What's wrong?”

Somehow, Felda still managed to beat my predictions. I felt her weight settle on the opposite side of the bed, then jumped when I felt her lean over, her voice at my back.

“Would you like some help, Sam?”

I turned to look, hesitantly, and found Felda smiling as patiently as always, wearing a short, soft-looking robe that was, thankfully, cinched tightly. I opened my mouth to refuse, but the words died in my throat. Silently, I nodded, and offered the brush when she held out her hand.

“Wait right there,” Felda said, standing up and crossing the room to her writing desk, reaching under it to retrieve something. She carried it back and set it before Sam, revealing a squat padded footstool, which she patted and smiled. Obligingly, I slid off the bed and perched on the stool, while Felda took a seat where I had been, and I had to bite my lip when I felt her presence settle in behind me, enveloping me like a warm blanket.

“Let's see now,” Felda said softly, and I felt her fingers in my hair, her hands deft and gentle despite how large they were, followed by the firm bristles of the brush. She moved slowly, starting from the bottom, carefully coaxing the frizzy mass of orange hair out of the disheveled mess it had worked itself into after two days of neglect, so gentle I never once felt anything more than the slightest tug. I was tense, anxious, with my shoulders hunched up so high it was a wonder Felda was able to get anything done, but eventually I could feel the effects of her attentions on my scalp begin to take hold. My muscles relaxed, my heart rate started to slow, and, like a turtle coming out of its shell, I stopped trying to curl inward on myself, sitting up straighter on the stool. I purred, weakly, starting and stopping as my mind went to war with itself.

This is wrong, a voice insisted. Mine, I thought.

What’s wrong? I questioned.

All of it, the voice answered. It's all wrong, everything you've said and done since the moment you arrived here. You should be ashamed of yourself, the way you've acted, the way you've let them treat you.

I… I am! I protested, wincing at the obvious lie. The feeling of the bristles gliding through my hair was no longer soothing, the sensation drawing memories to the surface that radiated danger, like a hot stovetop I desperately didn’t want to lay my hand on, but was being inexorably drawn to nonetheless.

Don't lie to me! You're enjoying it! Sitting there, letting her treat you like a… like a…

The corners of my eyes prickled, hot tears welling up behind them, threatening to spill over second, and I squeezed them shut.

Stop crying! the voice commanded, a voice I only just realized wasn't my own, an echo from a memory long buried. I choked back a sob. Stop fucking crying like a little fucking girl all the fucking time!

I was no longer in Felda’s bedroom. I was back home, in the kitchen. I was younger, I knew that, but how much so I couldn’t say. I’d been hauled out of the bathroom to stand trial, the offending evidence being waved in front of my face in my father’s hand.

Where did this come from? he’d demanded, shaking the item clenched in his fist. It was a hairbrush, cheap and plastic, something you could find a dozen of on the shelves of any corner shop next to the hair ties and bobby pins. A completely innocuous item, inoffensive in every way except for one small detail; its flimsy plastic body was pink.

I’d been over to Morgan’s house earlier that day, after school. Her mom had made a comment about my hair being unkempt, and while Morgan had gotten mad, I didn't mind. I didn’t have a comb with me though, so Morgan had let me use a spare brush, and when I’d remarked how much more I liked using it, she said I could borrow it.

I said none of this, too afraid that this inexplicable outrage would be directed towards Morgan if I did. Then, as now, I was unable to stop crying or form any coherent words of explanation. Then, as now, I had no idea why my father was so upset, why my mother stood silently off to the side, confusion and apprehension naked on her face.

The next day at school, the kids made fun of my freshly buzzed hair, and I apologized to Morgan for losing her brush.

At some point, I must have been transferred to Felda’s lap. That was where I found myself when I came back into awareness, groggy and sore, my eyes burning and my cheeks feeling like they’d been scoured by sandpaper. Felda was clutching me tightly to her chest, one hand on the back of my head, and she was humming snatches of a soothing tune into my ears in between deep, shaky breaths.

“Mmnhh…” I tried to speak, but my mouth was too dry, my lips glued shut. I heard Felda gasp.

“Sam?”

There was a tremor in her voice that felt so incongruous I wondered if I was still dreaming. Felda’s hold on me eased slightly and I was able to lean back and crack my eyes open, peering up at her. Her brows were a tangled knot of worry, and her eyes were wet.

Why?

“Samantha?!”

Who?

Oh.

She means me.

“Nnnhh...” I grunted, swallowing. My throat felt raw.

“Are you with me, Sam?” she asked desperately. My answer was another hoarse croak, and Felda shifted, reaching for something outside of my narrow field of vision.

“Ah, sorry, you must be parched, here…”

I felt cold metal pressed to my lips, and water sloshing against them. It was the canteen I'd bought earlier today. I'd had the foresight to fill it before returning, and I was thankful now as I took big, greedy gulps of the cool water until Felda pulled it back.

“Not too fast,” she said softly, her free hand stroking my back. “You'll make yourself sick.”

“Thanks…” I coughed, feeling some life finally return to me as the water soothed my sore throat.

“Are you… feeling better?” Felda asked, cautiously.

I honestly didn't know, but there was no way I could explain all that in one or two words, so I just shrugged.

“I’m so sorry for not realizing what was happening sooner,” Felda said, still visibly distressed, voice overflowing with concern. “It happened so fast, I didn’t… was I… was there something about the way I—”

“Not… your fault…” I grated out, squeezing my eyes shut. Now that sensation was returning to my body I could feel how much it was aching, my head throbbing painfully, reminding me of when I’d first woken up in this very room. It hurt to talk. It hurt to think. I didn’t want to approach any aspect of what had just happened with a twenty-foot pole, but even then I could not have Felda thinking she was to blame. I motioned for her to bring the canteen closer, and she did so.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Felda asked while I drank, more slowly this time. “Do you need anything? More water? Food? I can make you anything you want, just ask.”

“No…” I said as soon as I’d finished swallowing, if only to stop her from further bending herself over backwards just for me. “Just… tired…”

“Oh, of course,” Felda said, and then I was moving. She stood up slowly, bringing me with her, lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all. There was a creak of wood and a rustle of blankets, and I felt my back settle onto Felda’s mattress.

“Would you… prefer to have some space, or—”

My hand shot out and clutched at the sleeve of Felda’s robe before she could finish. I wasn’t sure of anything at the moment, other than the fact that I did not want to be left alone. Felda obliged, and when she settled into the bed alongside me, it wasn’t with the generous gap she’d left the previous night. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, I pressed myself into the space between her arm and her side, and felt her shift to accommodate me.

Pathetic… weak…

I shivered and clung tighter to Felda, pushing the voice away until I could finally slip into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

■

It was still dark when I opened my eyes again. I was warm, and my head was resting in the crook of one of Felda’s arms, the other wrapped around me from behind, the gentle rumble of her slow breathing against my back making me feel like I was cuddling a sleeping bear. I had rolled over onto my side in my sleep and Felda had come with me, and I was now entombed in the position of little spoon.

I felt… Well, I wasn't on the verge of another breakdown, at least. I was cozy, and well rested, and I got the feeling that it wouldn't be too hard for me to nod off again if I chose to stay put, but already I was growing fidgety. I wanted to get up and move around, and the heat was quickly becoming less comfortable and more oppressive.

Slowly, so as not to disturb Felda, I untangled myself from her arms and slid free, scooting to the opposite edge of the bed on my belly. I swung my legs over and stood, spending almost half a minute just stretching my arms towards the sky and trying not to groan.

I poked around quietly in the darkness, finding my clothes from the day before and slipping back into them, then retrieved my sandals from the foot of the bed. I knew I couldn't leave through the tavern doors because I'd be unable to lock them behind me, but that was no longer a problem.

I moved to the window that I had gotten my first glimpse of this world through, and carefully slid it open.

“Sam.”

I jumped, my hair and fur standing on end at Felda’s quiet voice behind me. There was no question or confusion in the tone, not like Felda had just woken up by chance, but more like she'd been awake the whole time, and only spoke up now that she knew what I was up to.

I turned back, meeting Felda’s gaze. She had not sat up, only opened her eyes to watch me, which I took as a sign that she didn’t intend to stop me.

“Are you going somewhere?” Felda asked calmly, studying me from her reclining position.

“I just need some air,” I said, glancing out the window again.

Felda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she spoke again.

“Can you promise me you’ll be back?”

I furrowed my brow at that. Did she think I was running away? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, so absurd that I chuckled despite myself.

“Of course,” I said, in what I hoped was a genuine tone. “I promise, I’ll be back in a bit, I just need some time to think.”

“Alright Sam,” Felda said with another sigh and a small, tired smile. “I trust you. Try not to get into any trouble.”

I smiled back, and then finished pushing the window up, slipping out onto a section of the same sloped awning that surrounded the tavern, this one much narrower as it had to avoid touching the mirroring awning of the adjacent building, another tavern. There was a gap between the overhangs of about three feet, the space between the buildings forming one of many short alleyways that connected the docks on the right with the outermost street of the village to my left.

It would have been easy to step across the gap and end up on the roof of the neighboring tavern, but I was pretty sure getting caught climbing around on top of other people’s businesses counted as “getting into trouble,” so I just slid to the edge of the awning and swung myself into the gap, dropping into the alleyway and landing lightly on my feet. I deliberated for a moment on which direction to take my nighttime wandering, before deciding on the docks. I emerged into the moonlight and took a deep breath, then, since I knew that the boat Bart called home was to my right, I turned left, and started to amble slowly down the docks. As I went, my thoughts swirled like a stormfront, building and building until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked the cold night air after a minute of walking in silence.

The… event, the memory that I’d just relived was still burning away in a corner of my mind, stinging like a fresh wound. If pressed, I wouldn’t have been able to say if I’d even remembered it happening until it all came flooding back at once, but now it was all I could do to not think about it. I had always known there was a reason I hated getting my hair cut, but had not actually examined the root of that aversion in such a long time.

Once I got to high school, I had frequently been teased for getting caught staring at the girls in class, even though it was just their hair I’d been looking at, not their bodies. It wasn’t fair that they were allowed to grow their hair as long as they wanted, I remembered thinking, while my parents never liked mine to even reach past my chin, and I was so intensely resentful of that fact, never understanding why it bothered me so much. I found myself reaching up, catching a lock of orange hair and gingerly twisting it between my fingers, feeling a sudden thrill jolt through me, followed immediately by a wave of shame.

“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” I groaned in frustration, stopping and pressing my hands to the sides of my head, squeezing as though I could wring the answers out of my brain like juicing a lemon.

Nothing came out. I had no idea what was wrong with me, only a renewed awareness that there was something wrong with me. I started walking again.

I shook my head. That was a dead end. I’d never been able to think my way out of that conundrum before, and I wasn’t likely to manage it tonight, so I switched focus.

“Okay, let’s be more specific; what is wrong with my emotions?”

That seemed like an easier question to answer. So easy that I kind of felt like an idiot for even being confused in the first place. I hadn’t paid super close attention in health class when we’d been covering puberty, but I remembered enough about the discussions on hormones to realize that this body, my body, must have been chock full of them. Girls had more hormones than boys, right?

“Wait, no, that’s not it…” I sighed, furrowing my brow and pressing my knuckles to my forehead. “Not more, just… different ones, right?”

Ugh, I should have paid more attention to that class.

Either way, it was obvious now that my out of control emotions were no different than my sudden cravings for seafood, or my appreciation for having my head petted, or this newest urge to climb to high places. They were part of my body, something I would have to get used to, and learn to control all over again. I definitely couldn’t spend the rest of however long I was here bawling my eyes out at the drop of a hat whenever something mildly upsetting flashed across my mind. I just needed to remind myself that I was still me, despite having the body of a five-foot-nothing half-cat half-girl thing.

Too bad I didn’t have a single clue how to do that. I wasn’t even sure I knew what being me even meant anymore.

“Mrow.”

The noise cut through the swirling storm of conflicted emotions and helpless thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me. It was a meow, and it had come from a cat that was perched on top of a wooden post a few feet to my right. The cat was all black, except for its front left paw, which was white, and had large blue eyes that twinkled as it regarded me.

I let out a huff, casting my eyes towards the sky.

“Is this your idea of a joke, huh?” I demanded of the quiet night's sky, throwing my arms wide. “Is this the universe saying ‘You're a cat now, get used to it,’ huh?”

The sky, the universe, and whatever gods did or did not exist in this world, none of them deigned to answer. I sighed and dropped my arms, then looked at the cat.

“Mow,” it said, leaning slightly forward on the post.

“Don't you start,” I said, jabbing a finger at it, then, with a quick glance up and down the docks, I took a step towards the pillar.

Rather than shy away, the cat stretched itself forward on its perch, meeting the hand I had been cautiously extending. I let it rub its cheeks against my palm a few times before I turned my hand over and began to gently scratch the top of its head with my claws.

“Bet you couldn't sleep either, huh,” I said, smirking, still feeling somewhat ridiculous. I brought my free hand to my forehead and brushed it back across my scalp. “Ugh, is this weird? This is weird, isn't it? It's like when you see Goofy standing next to Pluto.”

The cat, which had been contentedly purring away, let out another, squeakier meow, and I paused, narrowing my eyes.

“You can't understand me, right? Please tell me that’s not another crazy cat power I have, I don't think I could handle that right now.”

The cat continued to stare at me, then sat up slightly on its back legs, raising one of its forepaws and pawing insistently at my stilled hand, meowing again.

“Alright, alright,” I said, resuming my scritches, much to my new acquaintance’s delight. “You're lucky I know exactly how good this feels.”

As I scratched and rubbed, the cat tilted its head this way and that, and I finally noticed the collar around its neck. It was made of blue leather with a bright golden buckle, and a little metal tag that dangled from the front. Curious, I reached for the tag and held it up to the moonlight.

“Mittens,” I read aloud. I met the cat's eyes, then glanced down at its single white paw, furrowing my brow. “But… you only have… I'm sorry, Mittens, but I think your owner could have tried a little harder.”

Mittens meowed in agreement. At least, I thought so, anyway. Eventually, Mittens seemed to get their fill, and hopped down from the pillar, beginning to trot away in the direction of the village.

“Uh, seeya,” I called, waving, infinitely glad that there was absolutely no one around to see me. Mitten’s tail flicked once, and then they disappeared down an alleyway.

Left alone on the docks again, I felt the small smile I'd been wearing for the last few minutes slip from my face, and I continued my walk. My legs were getting a little tired, so I turned at the next empty dock, walking to the very end of it and plopping down with my legs dangling over the edge. For a time, I just sat, listening to the waves passing underneath me and staring out at the ocean. It looked like a scene out of a painting, the wide open horizon occasionally broken up by the surrounding islands,, the pink moon hanging low in the sky, just a shade less than full. I took another deep breath, and let it out in a long, slow sigh, as though I could expel all my worries into the air and have them float away on the breeze.

Before I could spend another second brooding, the water beneath me rippled, and a figure emerged from beneath the surface, gasping for air.

I blinked, as Duke pushed his soaked, sandy-blond hair out of his face, opened his eyes, then jerked backwards as he realized he’d popped up right in front of me.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I said dryly, smirking.

“What?” Duke asked, wetly, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. “What are you… Look, this ain't… I swear, I ain't followin’ you!”

I snickered, shifting sideways so Duke could reach up and grab the edge of the dock and haul himself out of the water.

“Alright, I'll believe you, but if it happens one more time…” I said, chuckling to show I wasn't serious. Duke walked several paces up the dock, and I thought he was just leaving, but he suddenly stopped and shook not just his head but his whole body, flinging water off him in all directions. Satisfied, Duke returned and took a seat beside me, but left plenty of space between us, and for a moment silence returned to the docks, neither of us seemingly knowing what to say.

“Alright, it's my turn,” Duke said, turning away from the water to scrutinize me. “What're you doin’ out here this late?”

“I couldn't sleep,” I said, sighing and leaning back, propping myself up on my palms. “Needed to get some fresh air, needed to… think about some stuff.”

Duke made an understanding hum and nodded.

“Heh, me too,” Duke said, chuckling. “I got to go with Zev t'morrow to meet the mayor of this place.”

“Why?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Eh, it's like a politics thing. Since all pirate captains are technically ambassadors, it's common practice for them to, y’know, establish good relations with the head authority wherever we make port,” Duke explained, staring off into the distance again. “Ensure them that we aren't being tailed by hostile ships, won't bring any trouble to their doorstep, maybe exchange a bit of information, that kinda stuff. Also shows that they acknowledge the council, that’s important too.”

“Oh,” I said simply. That made a fair bit of sense, but wasn't actually what I'd been asking for. “I mean why do you have to go? Sounds like you're not fond of it.”

“I ain't,” Duke said, smirking sidelong at me. “You can never tell with people who're put in charge of other people. Sometimes they're fine, and sometimes it makes ‘em… unpleasant. Even though Zev does all the talkin’, I still don't like these meetin's.” Duke took a deep breath in through his nose before continuing, “But, I still gota go. Where Zev goes, I go.”

“Whhhhy?” I asked again, raising one eyebrow.

“I'm his… ah, shit, what's the word?” Duke trailed off, furrowing his brow in thought and muttering. “In Kurma it's sword hand but I don't know if that translates… Oh, bodyguard, that's it!”

“Ooh,” I said, keeping my face perfectly neutral. Duke's voice had very briefly shifted in the same intangible way that I'd come to recognize as someone speaking in another language, which my brain still seemed to be able to automatically translate into English. “Does he really need a bodyguard though? Isn't he a wizard?”

Duke let out a snort that turned into a chuckle, grinning at me.

“You ain't met too many mages, have you?” he asked. “Sure, magic makes ‘em powerful, but unless they've been specifically balancin’ out their arcane studies with actual physical exercise, most serious mages ain't worth fuck in an up-close fight.”

I snickered a little and nodded. “Oh, I guess that makes sense. So you're there to make sure nobody just runs up and stabs him while he's waving a wand around?”

“Exactly,” Duke said, grinning and nodding back. “It's pretty standard practice for mages to pair up with someone strong to watch their backs, some of the most famous mages in history had equally famous warriors at their sides. Some places even make a whole ceremony out of it, a mage and their sword comin’ together…”

Duke trailed off again, a wistful smile on his face as he gazed out at the horizon, his tail starting to wag.

I blinked, then quickly turned my whole body away so there was no chance of Duke seeing my face as I alternated between flushing with embarrassment and grinning triumphantly.

Ha! I knew Mel was wrong! There's no way he's into me, he's got it bad for his captain!

Thankfully, by the time Duke looked my way again, I had gotten ahold of myself and schooled my expression, so I was able to respond with just a small smile.

“That sounds really nice,” I said. “I bet Captain Zevrelos is… lucky to have a bodyguard like you.”

“Heh, yeah, f'it weren't for me he'd be dead a dozen times over,” Duke said proudly, then glanced out at the ocean and huffed. “Now if only I could get him to come swimmin’ with me a few times a week, maybe he'd need less savin’.”

“You… really like swimming, huh?” I asked, unable to stop my voice from wobbling slightly. That wasn't really the important part of what he'd just said, but it was the part my brain had latched onto.

“Oh, yeah, I love swimmin’!” Duke said, visibly perking up, and I felt my stomach lurch. “It’s the number one skill any sailor should master, it could wind up savin’ your life if you fall overboard in rough waters. It's also great exercise, really refreshin’, helps you build stamina too! What's not to like?”

“S-so I've been told,” I said, my hands gripping the edge of the dock so hard I was sure I was leaving scratches on the underside. Duke noticed my distress, obvious as it was, and the excited smile slipped from his face in an instant.

“Woah, what, uh, what's wrong?” Duke asked, starting to rise from his seat, but I held up a hand.

“Nothing!” I all but yelled, burying my face in my other hand. My already sore, overworked eyes were stinging again. I grit my teeth. “Just… tell me… what else do you like about swimming?”

I could feel Duke’s eyes on me, and heard the hesitation in his voice, but he did finally speak again. “Well, I… like the way it feels? It's… relaxing, especially after a long day. No matter how angry or, y’know, stressed or in my own head I get, I can always go for a quick swim and feel much better after…”

God… that’s just the kinda thing she would say…

I had both hands pressed to my face now, and though I could feel the tears falling onto my palms, I was determined not to start sobbing again, at the very least. I hated this. I hated feeling so pathetic, hated not knowing what the next thing that would set me off and reduce me to tears would be, and hated that I couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

But, most of all? I just missed my friends. Morgan especially, but even the ones I wasn’t really friends with. Hell, I even missed Chad.

Finally, I lifted my head out of my hands, sniffling grossly and trying to wipe my palms off on my pants.

“Sorry,” I croaked, staring into the water off the end of the dock since I didn’t feel like I could meet Duke’s eyes at the moment. “You just… you sounded like a friend of mine, someone I knew before I… before I ended up here. She was really into swimming too.”

“Oh,” Duke said, quietly. That was all he said, for several moments, and I wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t say anything else, or if he just got up and left. He was a pirate, after all, and even by this world’s standards of what “pirate” meant, he was still someone who regularly came face to face with life-threatening danger. As nice as he seemed, and as much as he’d forgiven me for my slip up earlier in the night, we were still basically strangers, and I couldn’t imagine him wanting to put up with my petty little personal problems.

“By the tides, I’m so sorry.”

Duke’s voice was soft, and laden with sympathy. I couldn’t stop myself from hating the sound of it any more than I could stop myself from latching onto it like a drowning sailor being tossed a life ring. I turned my head, and Duke was looking at me with sadness of his own in his eyes, his ears pulled back against his head.

“Did she… pass, or—”

“No, no,” I said, cutting him off before he could get carried away. “No, she’s alive, but it hardly matters for me. She’s… back home, where I came from, and I’m here.”

“Ah,” Duke said, tone lightening only slightly. “Then, I take it it weren’t really your choice, to be here?” I shook my head, and Duke tilted his, furrowing his brow. “And… is there no way for you to return to where you came from?”

“I don’t know,” I said, bringing a hand to my forehead. “I want to, but right now it seems impossible, and I guess I haven’t really taken the time to stop and think about what that means. I had friends there, and a life, kind of, and…”

I trailed off, the words I’d been intending to say dying on my lips.

“And a family?” Duke offered, and I coughed and cleared my throat.

“Y-yeah, that too.”

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few seconds after that. Of course I had a family. I had a mom, and a dad, and two brothers, one older and one younger. I should be just as sad at the prospect of never seeing any of them again as my friends from school, shouldn’t I?

Shouldn’t I?

“Well,” Duke said, thankfully breaking my train of thought with his surprisingly chipper tone. “I don’t know how much this helps, but if this friend of yours ain’t dead, then she could be out there lookin’ for you too! She might even turn up right here on these docks someday, so don’t go givin’ up!”

“Heh…” I laughed at that, once, then again as the idea continued to play out in my mind, even though it was painful to think about. Soon, I was laughing, and crying, in equal measure, until I flopped backwards onto the dock, staring up at the starry sky and alternating between chuckling and sniffling.

Duke looked confused, but glad to have helped, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him how impossible it was that Morgan would ever show up here.

“Thanks,” I said, pushing a small smile onto my face. “I wasn’t planning on giving up, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Y’welcome,” Duke said, grinning in the moonlight. “I ain’t a smooth talker like Zev, but I know how t’cheer someone up.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” I said idly, remaining sprawled out on my back for the moment. “I didn’t think a tough guy like you had it in you to say all that sappy stuff.”

“Sappy?” Duke asked, tilting his head down at me and raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, y’know, like… mushy, emotional stuff. ‘Girly stuff’,” I said, the words leaving my mouth without any thought. Duke’s head tilted even further and his eyes narrowed incredulously.

“Do… you think only girls have emotions?” Duke asked, seriously, and I blinked.

“N-no, no! I don’t think that at all, but a lot of the other… the other kids I grew up around me sure did,” I said, sighing as I remembered how skilled the other boys at school were at sniffing out and ridiculing any kind of emotional attachments, even at a young age.

“What kinda fool goes around teaching kids dreck like that?” Duke asked, his confusion quickly turning into irritation.

“Well, no one taught them that, exactly,” I said, waving a hand in the air. “Nobody sat us all down one day and spelled it out, everyone just… seemed to act like… that was the way…” I trailed off, dropping my hand and furrowing my brow. It really didn’t make sense, if you didn’t grow up going through it. I didn’t know what kind of childhood Duke had had, but I would bet it was not at all similar to growing up subjected to the daily horrors of the American public school system.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Sam,” Duke said, sniffing and turning to look back at the ocean. “But the more I hear about this place you came from, the worse it sounds. They don’t teach you about pirates, they don’t teach you about the gods, and now this.”

“That’s… fair,” I said, sighing and pressing a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. I spent a few seconds just listening to the sounds of the waves, then took another deep breath and started to climb to my feet. “I should head back now. Felda’s probably worried sick.”

“Ah, yeah,” Duke said, hopping to his feet as well, pressing his hands into his back until it let out a popping noise. “I should get back to the ship too.”

We turned and walked alongside each other, back to the other end of the dock. Despite everything, I did feel a bit better. As we reached the points where our paths split, I looked up to Duke.

“Thanks again for trying to cheer me up,” I said, once again managing only half a smile.

“Sorry I couldn’t do a better job of it,” Duke said with a bit of an edge, which immediately softened again when he spoke next. “Agh, sorry, sorry, I mean you’re welcome. Not yer fault you’re from some fucked up, backward island where nothin’ works right.”

I snorted at that and nodded, then raised my hand to wave. “I’ll seeya later, Duke.”

“See you around, Sam,” Duke replied, walking backwards while giving me a lazy salute before turning around and heading off down the docks.

I turned as well, and set off for the trek back to the Crooked Hook. I hadn’t really solved anything, or come up with any answers for any of the many questions my mind was still flooded with, but for the moment it felt like I had successfully shoved enough of them onto the back burner that I could at least take a few steps without breaking down.

Progress.

I recognized Felda’s tavern as much by its shape in the dark as by its smell. I couldn’t tell what exactly it was about the mixture of salt and oil and fish that it gave off that was different from all the other taverns on the row that smelled of the exact same things, but somehow I just knew I was close before I even spotted it.

The window to Felda’s room was still open, and I could see dim light flickering in the room beyond. Making my way into the alley between the buildings, I deftly hopped onto a nearby barrel, then sprung off and latched onto the ledge of the overhanging awning, swinging myself up onto it and landing as light as a feather.

“Caaaat poweeers…” I whispered to myself as I crept towards the window. Peeking inside, I didn’t see Felda in the bed. Instead, she was across the room, in front of her writing desk. I couldn’t see well with the angle I was crouched at, but it looked like she was holding something in one hand, with the other pressed to her mouth. As she turned, the object in her hand caught the lantern light, and I saw it was a simple key, large and made of silvery metal. I also saw the expression on the half of her face that I could see past her hand. She was crying, or had been, but I ducked away from the window before I could get a close enough look, and before she could spot me.

I… she… I should… give her some warning that I’m back. She was obviously dealing with an issue of her own as well, but I got the feeling that Felda didn’t want me to know about that just yet.

I backed up to the edge of the roof, biting my lip, then shifted my weight and deliberately let the sole of my sandal scrape along the shingles.

“Sam?” Felda’s voice called from the open window, hushed but urgent.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I called back softly, standing up and doing my best to walk as slowly as I could towards the window, and to let my footsteps be heard as I did so. I could hear Felda clear her throat, and the sound of a drawer being pulled followed by a metallic thump as the key was, presumably, returned to wherever Felda kept it. Then, just as I reached the window, Felda appeared, eyes clear and bright, a warm tusky smile on her lips.

“Welcome back,” Felda said, offering me a hand to help me back through the window. “Do you… feel any better?”

“A little bit,” I said, slipping back inside the room, which had cooled a fair bit in my absence. I guessed that Felda had left the window open the entire time I’d been gone.

As soon as my feet were firmly on the floor I turned, and wrapped my arms around Felda’s waist.

“Oh!” Felda said as I squeezed her, surprised, but she recovered quickly and I soon felt her arms close wrap around me as well. She didn’t say anything else, just held me as tightly as I held her, one hand rubbing my back.

“Let’s get back to sleep,” I said when I finally pulled my face out of Felda’s stomach. I had to ask her where she got that robe.

“Good idea,” Felda said, releasing me as well. She headed for the bed and I followed, and she retrieved a folded bundle from on top of the sheets; my pajamas, discarded when I changed back into my day clothes before leaving. “If you want some privacy, I can step out—”

“Too tired, don’t care,” I said, sighing and accepting the soft, cottony shirt and pants. “Just don’t peek.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sam,” Felda said, smiling and patting my head once more before turning her back to me and climbing into her bed. I turned my back as well, and quickly shimmied back into my pajamas.

Sliding back under the covers, I felt suddenly self-conscious about my choice of where exactly to sleep. I had wanted, or maybe needed, to hold onto Felda as tightly as possible before, but I wasn’t feeling nearly as fragile anymore. At the same time, I didn’t want to return to sleeping all the way across the bed, especially since I wasn’t the only one who’d come out of this incident emotionally distressed, even if Felda wasn’t going to show it. A compromise then.

I slid across the bed until I was just beside Felda, but not pressed right up against her body, but close enough that I might brush against her arm as I slept.

“Goodnight, Sam,” Felda said, once more settling her massive palm on the top of my head.

“G’night,” I said, closing my eyes, letting Felda’s warmth and the sound of my own purring lull me back into much needed sleep.

■

(Continued in Part 2)