Petyr listened intently to everything Mora told him, his heart first beating wildly then going completely still.

“He couldn’t have survived that blast,” he said. “You saw it.”

They both stood outside in the shadow of the tavern, away from where anyone could overhear them.

“You didn’t tell him that we saw it, did you?” He lowered his voice and glared pointedly at Mora.

She shook her head, confused. “No. But why not? We did see it.”

“Because…” Petyr thought of explaining it, but what was the point. He was dealing with a literal child. “This is grown-up stuff. You wouldn’t get it. Most of the time, it’s better to not see anything at all. Trust me.”

Mora said nothing back. She just leaned against the wall, thoughtfully playing with the half-broken button of her worn-out vest. Good, thought Petyr. Better if no one knows about this.

“He could’ve jumped, you know,” she said suddenly.

Petyr’s breath hitched. “What?”

Mora’s eyes came up searchingly. “From the ship. Before the skysail hit it.”

He let out a a slow breath. “Then they all could’ve jumped!”

“How do you know they didn’t?”

Now this was one idea he didn’t want to consider. “Because I didn’t see them!”

“If they knew that was going to happen they could’ve jumped way before!” Mora insisted.

Why was this eleven-year-old so problematic? I suppose she has a point. But the way she introduced this new character to him by describing his face-eating monkey and his red eyes already put him on high alert.

Combined with what he’d heard from his father and that strange incident earlier in the morning, this just served to heighten his panic all the more.

As his paranoia spiraled into a new level of dread, imagining everyone here taken captive by pirates, raped or killed, his former plans of starting a new life began to feel ever more distant and irrelevant.

“Nothing will happen,” he said, slowly, quietly. “It’s just… nothing. He’ll go away.”

Mora shrugged weightlessly. “Probably.”

She seemed to believe it, but he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. So many strange things here. In this hellhole. Why? And why now? I was just about to leave! Gods. Just let me leave first…

He was about to reinforce the idea to Mora (and himself) with another argument when Nik, of all people, circled around the corner and came up on them.

Stolen novel; please report.

As soon as he saw Petyr, he smiled and rushed over to shake his hand. “Pete! Good to see you, my boy. I didn’t know you were here. Came to have a little drink? Or maybe a little time with the ladies?”

Nik always teased him about the whores, knowing he was a addicted to the female form. But Petyr very much doubted Nik ever touched any of them. If Petyr ever took him up on the offer, he’d probably look down on him for it.

Not that he hadn’t been tempted a few times…

Petyr smiled back, trying to hide his nervousness. Why am I even nervous? Nothing’s happened! Get it together.

Suddenly, Nik’s attention switched to Mora. “And you. What were you thinking, bringing that guy here? Didn’t you realize he could be dangerous?”

Mora mora crossed her arms proudly. “I knew he was dangerous, so that’s why. I thought you’d handle him.”

Nik booped her playfully on the head. “You’re too sly for your own good, my little hornhead. Now, here”—he slipped her a piece of paper—”take this to Lerat out by the orchard.”

Mora pocketed it and gave him a look. “Let me guess, you’ll do something awful to me if I try to read it.”

“You can try all you want. I don’t mind. And by the way, you better apologize to Tulip for how you’ve behaved.”

Mora sighed and stomped her feet, kicking up pitiful amount of dust. “No, I won’t! I don’t like her and I won’t.”

Before Nik could disagree with her, she sprinted away as fast as her legs could take her.

Nik sighed deeply. “What am I going to do with that little beast?”

In the silence that settled as they both watched her sprint down the hill, Petyr considered bringing up all sorts of things: what he’d seen the night before, the arrival of this supposed pirate, his father’s worries about a person checking out the house, and then the eagle incident.

Instinctively, he clutched at the bolt tucked in his pocket.

Nik hummed to himself happily and winked at him. “How’s your father?”

“He’s good…” Petyr said, and gulped.

“Probably worried about how many bastards you’re making him a day, eh?”

He tried to smile back. “Something like that…”

Nik ruffled his hair and then playfully slapped him. “I’ve got some business to tend to. Watch yourself, Petyr.”

Why? Is there any reason I should?

By the time he found the willpower to ask that question, Nik had gone back inside, leaving him alone by the shadowy side of the tavern. Somewhere up front, Petyr heard loud footsteps and then someone spitting and cursing under their breath.

Dismayed, a little worried about what might be going on, and feeling neither hungry nor thirsty, he began to make his way back towards home.

At first he walked slowly. But as he began to consider the level of danger everyone might be at, he picked up the pace.

By the time he went up the hill outside of town with the overhanging tree, the most lurid images pained him. He imagined his father beaten bloody, teeth knocked out of his mouth, begging for his life. Alis was in the kitchen, bawling, some brute taking her by force and having his way with her.

Mora was right. Too right, in fact. If one pirate made it, why wouldn’t the whole lot of them?

There might be dozens of them. All of them armed. Gods…

When he was just a few minutes away from reaching home, his anxiety level became so heightened that he began to sprint.

In his rush, he never bothered to look down.

When he tripped, he slammed facedown into the grimy road, almost breaking his nose.

“What the fuck!” he hissed; but his body ached too much to even kick back in anger.

A stone? A twig? What had it been this time? Fuck’s sake.

This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that he’d severely been hurt. And that’s just physically.

As he braced himself to get up, he suddenly felt a cold metal slither across the base of his neck. “Stay very still,” said a distinctly female voice, it’s accent unlike any he’d ever heard before.

Petyr did. Not that he could've helped it.

“Any move at all and my friend in the trees will show off his skills. He’ll put a bolt in each of your eyes before you hit the ground. Trust.”