Grath stared up at the pirate ship as it glided in a lazy, wide spiral above him. He had lost sight of them among the branches, but now they had peeled back from the tree and their pursuit of the farming vessel to fight him. Military camo designed to match the sky or to match the cursed fog below was illegal in most countries. Neither the Flounder nor the pirate ship sported it. Grath, because to his detriment he followed the law, and the pirates probably were not using camouflage in order to slink through royal ports without attracting attention. Oh well then. Grath whirled the ship, spiraling on the updraft; he pulled the release lever on his next galena sack. It fell, smashing against the great tree's trunk below. The wind bore him up. Now that he was neutrally buoyant, he would have no means of gliding and be at the mercy of ballista rounds... Under normal circumstances... That last bolt was a shredding bolt. He could tell by the tear it left in his wing. They weren't going to burn him out like the farming vessel. They planned to loot his ship... why had they been burning the farm ship, though? Grath pushed all thoughts aside and flung his anchor line at a massive branch, and... it struck! The cord pulled tight, dragging the ship hard towards and over the branch. The Flounder creaked and groaned, its pine skeleton begging him to stop. But he held his cord cutter back. The small, serrated glass hook trembled in his hands; two more bolts whizzed past him. They had corrected for his change in direction, but not enough. They missed by over 40 digits. Grath finally cut the line. Flounder bobbed upright, rocking wildly. Grath pulled release lever 3. Another galena sack fell away. Now he was lighter than air. The next anchor toss would pull even harder, but Flounder could take it. He had 2 anchors left. He was in the main branches now, but they would thin out as they went up. If he just got above the pirate ship, his superior lift would carry him up faster than their glide. Harsh Forefather's updraft would give out soon, and then it was balloon lift alone. He had no intention of running. Grath was only baiting out their next move. His heart pounded like thunder in the center of his storm of taut sinews and muscle. The pirates took the bait. Realizing he would pass the branches and drift above them into the open air, they had a few choices to make. They could: burn his balloon to bring him back down (too risky, his loot could fall into the fog), drop a huge amount of weight to gain altitude on him (a useless gamble as the Flounder had superior lift and he had way more weight to spare), or... harpoon him. If they harpoon me, I can throw fire jars. Of course, I don't have many of those, but they don't know that so they won't keep their distance, which brings us into close combat. They will try to kill me then loot the Flounder, Grath worried over the possibilities. The pirate ship glided down, plunging towards him through the thick branches. Ballista bolts tore his wings, clipping his ability to glide. Grath braced for the harpoon bolt. He clutched his weapons to himself, crouching low to the top balloon of Flounder; he hid behind its primary lift balloon. For a second, panic struck him. They might try shooting the lift balloons with a cutter bolt?! He brushed the thought aside, no chance that would risk his loot if they clipped too big a balloon. The harpoon bolt took flight, its near-invisible thread glinting behind it as it flew. Even with the lightweight silk line, the harpoon quickly lost speed, but its arch sustained it. Its shale-barbed tip pierced deep into his mid cabin. They were professionals; he would give them that. Piercing the balloon could have ripped it badly. One of the pirates began to reel him in; the ships drifted towards each other. Despite its lithe shape, the pirate's ship dwarfed his own, its wings casting a bleak shadow over Grath's Flounder. Patches and gashes scarred its canvas and wood. He realized immediately, if they had wanted to burn his ship down instead of loot it, things would have played out differently. The pirates still had altitude on him. Grath struggled to calm himself and get the timing right. If he left the balloons too soon, they would shoot him. He could see a burly man on one of the two front ballistas aiming directly at him. A scrawnier pirate with a greying beard dragged the ships together rapidly. The old pirate's sky-weathered and spotted skin belied the speed at which he dragged the ships through the air. Grath could not see the pilot from here. Hopefully 3 was their total number. He kept waiting. His ship would be above theirs soon; they hadn't shot him yet because the balloons protected him, but once they went level with each other, that would change. He stepped back, keeping the balloon between him and the ballista man. Then he scrambled back even more until he was scrambling down the Flounder's main hull balloon. Then he stopped. He was unable to see the pirate ship now. Mental clock would have to suffice, 1.. 2.. 3.. 4... NOW!!! He scrambled madly up the balloon and ran. The ships had passed level. The pirate ship was falling briefly beneath him. Grath charged across the Flounder's top deck and leapt!

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Ballistas can't easily tilt up past a certain angle, and besides that, the ships had been drifting towards each other. Their momentum carried the Flounder's hull balloon to overhang the pirate ship. Grath plummeted down. Shouts rang out behind him as he crashed into the upper deck's spongy balloon. He ignored the two men behind him and ran full tilt towards the pilot. The man's skin was deathly pale, almost grey. Grath hadn't expected that and in his gut he instinctively new this oddly pale man was the captain. Hardening himself Grath unleashed his sword in a flurry of cuts. The captain was no slouch; his glass-edged blade was ready and bit back at Grath. Glass cracked against blackwalnut wood. The glass teeth studded into the wood of the captain's sword shattered and flew as they clashed, but there were dozens more of them. A single slash would leave Grath maimed. Grath pulled back, still facing the captain he swung his free arm back towards the crewmen behind him. Aiming his crossbow towards the sound of running feet, Grath pulled the trigger... He never took his eyes off the captain's blade as the splitter bolt let fly.

Ftshhink. AGGGGHHHGHHH!!!!!!

A scream echoed out across the sky, resounding off the branches of Harsh Forefather.