Asta

I tug on the collar of my uniform, trying and failing to get it in a comfortable position at the base of my throat. It’s chilly out, and yet I feel like someone’s turning me on a spit with a dragon breathing fire over my body. In other words, I felt like I’m suffocating.

“Stop fiddlin’ with it!” Piper hisses from his spot on my right.

“Right.” I roll my eyes, paying the Vermilionweaver no mind. Normal solders wouldn’t be fiddling with their oversized, bright purple and green uniforms. I readjust my grip on the rifle in my sweaty palms, afraid to drop it on the deck in case it went off. If the uniform wasn’t enough, the bulky gun that comes with it is worse. Little more than a collection of wood and metal hammered together in a shape that almost resembles the lethal weapons of the south. I was more likely to shoot my foot off then stop a rampaging pirate with it.

“You remember the signal?” Piper asked, nudging my shoulder with his elbow. I nod. Who could, in their right mind, forget the signal Rover had come up with. When he’d told us, little more then a month ago, I’d simply stared at him, while Isabeth had burst out laughing, and Piper’s only comment had been telling the pirate captain that it was a bold move.

Perhaps a little too bold.

The ship lists softly to one side, the sound of creaking wood filling the air. I swallow. Ahead of the bow, was a fog bank. A great expanse of clouds the color of smoke settling on the surface of the sea.

“Piper, look.” I say, gesturing to the fog with my chin.

“Interesting, the helmsman is making no effort to go around it,” he strokes his beard, “It’s almost like they want to get ambushed.”

Fog made good ambush sites, as a ship could slip in and disappear, then get the drop on an unsuspecting vessel, guns and cutlasses blazing. I turn, only to see the last thing I was expecting on a Draking ship.

A girl.

She’s pretty, with wavy, light brown hair that goes to the small of her back. Wearing a high collared fawn brown jacket that goes to her waist, her nose and cheeks are pink from the wind, and her build reminds me of a mannequin I saw in the window of a shop the night before the Morning Glory was launched. She stops and rests her arms on the railing, the wind tossing her hair around, billowing her lemon yellow dress. I feel my cheeks warming. Piper digs his heel into my foot. I grimace, letting out a small grunt.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The girl asks. She turns to face me.

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“I guess.” I reply, masking my voice through an accent. She closes her golden eyes, humming.

“My father always told me the Strait was one of the few things he considered beautiful,” she chuckles, “That, and my mother.”

“You are young. Tell me, why have you come to sea?” Piper says gruffly. The girl frowns, and returns her gaze to the dark water that surrounds the ship.

“Couldn’t tell you. My brother went to sea, to hunt Drakes in the Strait. I grew up in a sea town, and every time a ship came back with a Drake carcass, I’d be the first one there, asking the crew a million questions about their journey, their hardships, how they tracked, baited, caught and how they killed the Drake. Hell, I even kept a journal about it. Call me crazy, but I think we should be studying the Drakes, not sticking them with harpoons first chance we get.” She snaps her mouth shut, giving us a guilty look, like she’s told us too much.

“Landlubber.” I hear Piper mutter under his breath. If she hears it, she doesn’t show it.

“Mary, the captain is waiting for us at the helm.” A silver haired boy says, coming up behind her. He’s wearing his own ridiculous purple and green uniform, with a bejeweled dagger hanging of his belt in a scabbard covered in gold and rubies. Not quite sure what it’s for, if not decoration.

The boy scowls, his sharp green eyes searching me. We enter the fog bank, and the world narrows down to what I can see in a five foot circumference.

“Light the lanterns!” A distant voice yells. Torches encased in glass lit up across the length of the ship on both sides, illuminating the fog, giving it a rusty color.

I note the color of the lanterns: a bright orange, the color of fire without magical influence. So this ship isn’t wanting to attract a Drake yet.

Good.

One less problem I’ll have to deal with later. The girl and boy leave us, their conversation drifting away until I can’t here it anymore.

“Ready?” Piper asks. I rest the gun I’m holding against the side of the cabin behind me, and go over to the railing. Turning back to face Piper, I unlace the military grade boots, pulling them off. A small smile twitches on Piper’s face, beneath his shaggy white beard. Hopping up onto the gunwale, I look at the water. There aren’t any whitecaps, and the surface is as smooth as a piece of glass. Taking a deep breath, I dive in, allowing the sea to wrap me in a cold, dark embrace. Fumbling with the buttons of the uniform, I give up and concentrate, summoning the energy required to Shift, closing my eyes.

When I open them, it’s like an invisible film has been pulled back from the world, exposing everything in the finest detail. With three powerful swipes of my tail, I surface, blinking to remove water from my eyes.

A ship slides out of the fog, parting it with the bowsprit. I grin and paddle over, then pull myself onto the deck. Rover stands there, one hand on his hip, the other brandishing his sword.

“‘bout time you came.” He grumbles. I shake water off like a dog, then lower my head to Rover’s height. He reaches out and strokes the scales over my left eyes a few times. I hum in satisfaction. This is where I belong. Rover clicks his tongue, and I lift my head.

“Where is it?” He asks.

“Starboard from here.” I say.

He nods, “Go there, you remember the signal.” Spreading my wings, I turn and take off, my talons leaving shallow grooves in the deck. After I gain enough altitude, I swivel my head back and forth, looking for the Morning Glory.

There.

Through my eyes as a dragon, the fog is nonexistent. Everything looks like the sun is shining, and there aren’t any clouds. I spot the lights aboard the Morning Glory, and dip a wing tip, slowly turning towards it. As I begin to circle the Draking ship, I let out a roar, so similar to a Drake’s, and yet so different.

Then I set fire to one of the sails, and all hell breaks loose as the screaming starts.