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“That one there, see, with the two triangles, that one’s ‘posed to be a horse. Equinor.”
“What? Where’s its head, if it’s a bloody horse?”
“Look, it’s rearing up. Those six stars are the front legs, and its head is over there, and its tail is hanging down, that one star there.”
One arm warm and snug around Hawke, Isabela traced the shape of the constellation above them with her free hand, her pointing finger barely visible by the bow’s lantern light. The gentle rocking of the tallship meant this was a fairly futile exercise, but after a ponderous moment spent frowning, Hawke finally saw it.
“Oh! You didn’t mention it was upside down.”
“Of course, from this angle, if you take away the back legs and the tail, then really it looks much more like a–”
“Ooh, I see what you mean. Show me another, then!”
While Isabela searched the night skies for another constellation to sully, Hawke wrapped her half of the pirate’s spread cloak around herself, nuzzling closer to Isabela’s side. It was a crisp autumn night, and though she wasn’t exactly cold per se, she appreciated the warmth the pirate generated. More importantly, this was the only time of day that Isabela and her ship weren’t bustling with activity.
(Somehow, even on the calmest days in the open ocean, death-defying moments seemed to be a daily occurrence. Possibly Isabela preferred things that way. Often, if nothing sufficiently exciting had happened by sundown, she helped things along by pouring a round of drinks and issuing increasingly outrageous dares.)
Right now, the only sounds to be heard were the creaking of wood and gentle waves lapping against the sides of the ship. The gulls had long since settled down, and most of the off-duty crew had gone below deck. One might even call moments like this peaceful, and as unfamiliar with this concept as Hawke had been up until this point, she was rapidly growing to love it. And if in the morning they conducted naval warfare on would-be slavers to the sounds of Isabela’s infectious laughter, well, she would love that too.
