"Row."

"Just because you're shouting at me doesn't mean-"

"ROW!"

The pirate with the wounded shoulder, Lawrence Dande, grunted in a mix of pain and frustration and started rowing faster despite his exhaustion.

Spirit, his long black hair flowing in the wind, stood behind him, eyes fixed on the Altair moored about a hundred meters ahead.

Tolas was on the other side of the boat, a taciturn expression on his face, staring at the Nesperides Island they were finally leaving . In the middle of the boat, Cornell was enjoying the journey, relishing in the sea breeze.

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And finally, seated between old Cornell and Tolas, Raphaëlle had her head raised to the sky, watching the seagulls soar above their boat.

She closed her eyes, letting the breeze sweep through her hair and the midday sun warm her skin. Suddenly, the boat broke a small wave and the young woman was sprayed with salty water. She winced for a second as the seawater had slightly seeped into the large bandage covering her forearm and she did her best to wring it out without hurting herself.

Raphaëlle began to sigh, still a bit dazed by everything that had transpired.

The past twenty-four hours had been so hectic and exhausting that she found herself regretting the comforting discomfort of her old hammock at the bottom of the first dormitory on the Altair. This thought made her shiver. But the memories of her hammock were quickly replaced by those of the island, and she opened her eyes, examining her bandage first, then glancing at Dande, a slightly pained expression on her face.

"Never trust a pirate, huh..." she whispered.