Chapter Text
.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧
The ship creaked beneath me, moaning in pain as I tried turning the ship’s wheel against the harsh currents. My hands shook under the sheer force, the resistance, my yellowed knuckles whitening from how hard I was gripping the wheel. Usually, I let the boat float along without much thought or care, no direction, no nothing. But with stormy weather like this, we’d go under in less than ten minutes if I’d just left it. I hadn’t stumbled across land yet, and I was nowhere near willing to die at sea. I wasn’t a sailor, by any means, and the bird perched upon the railing nearby constantly reminded me of such,
“Grace bad at sailing, statement.” It screeched, talons digging into the rotting wood, leaving even more scrape markings.
“I know! I know!” I shouted back, jaw tightening. I was alone on this forsaken ship, left with nothing but a bird that belittled me at every given opportunity. It bossed me around, telling me what to do, how to do it, like it was the captain all of a sudden. I’d named it Rocky, considering the greys and vague browns of its feathers kind of looked like a rock. I had no idea as to where Rocky had come from, presumably some other ship that’d sunk or been taken over, considering how much sea language and how many technicalities the creature knew. Regardless, it was now on the Hail Mary, an infamous ship. Not for what it originally was, no, but more for the eerie legend that was spreading regarding it. It had a decently large crew once upon a time, but now all but one were dead, resting on the sea floor, probably eaten by a shark or some other marine predator by now. I hardly remember any of their faces, their names, what the crew was even doing in the first place. Actually, I hardly knew who I was myself, only vaguely aware that my body was aching, skin an awful, dry, almost lizard-like texture that was not pleasant to touch. It crusted constantly, and traces of my slowly rotting skin were left dotted around the ship by now, certainly. The rain pelted down from the sky, accompanied by low rumbles and flashes of lights like warnings. I silently counted the seconds between each flash and rumble while also attempting to control the ship, ensuring I was successfully steering it away from the storm eye. The rain was like a balm to my peeling skin, hydrating it enough to make the dry scales flake off easier, but also completely sabotaging my grip on the wheel, everything suddenly far too slick for a proper grip. For once I found myself missing the eternal dryness.
“Wave big, wave big!” The squawks from my companion tugged me out of my thoughts, and I glanced to the side, immediately spotting what it was panicked about. But I couldn’t possibly react in time, and before we knew it, the wave had slammed into the side of the ship, coating the deck in a fresh load of seawater, a few stray fish flopping about helplessly. The ship swayed, unsteady, the wheel giving more resistance now than I could handle as I lost my footing, barely managing to keep hold. Tumultuous waters rocked the ship up and down, up and down, side to side, like some strange dance, a dance I had no power in as my fingers finally slipped with another harsh jolt. I slipped on the deck, falling to the side with a harsh thud. “We die, we die, we die…!” Rocky was of no help, frantically flapping its wings like it could carry the ship up into the air and to safety. I cracked open my eyes, groaning, staring at the now erratically spinning wheel through the haze of the rain. The deck was slippery, nothing to grip onto to help me regain my footing as I reached helplessly for the wheel, Rocky’s screeching and the rumbles in the distance slowly wavering, giving way to the ringing in my ears. Only now did I realise how frail I was, how willing my legs were to give out beneath me, how my fingers looked much more like knobbly twigs than something human. A broken grunt fell from my throat while I still pathetically strained to reach the wheel once more. Another jolt. A jolt which finally sent me skidding over the deck, straight into the side, pain jolting through my spine as it collided with the corner of a crate. The ship was now completely out of my control, something I realised as I raised my head with a weak groan, now even further away from the wheel. I tried to claw my way over, but my fingers couldn’t - wouldn’t - grip onto the wet wood. A frustrated sound tore at my hoarse throat, slapping my hand against the deck like that would help anything. I didn’t want to die here. I wasn’t a sailor, I didn’t think so, anyway.
.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧
…Sand? Damp, thick clumps of sand against my palms, scooped up by my unconscious clawing at the ground. My eyes peeked open, slowly adjusting to the new light, weak, but becoming clearer with each blink. I coughed, weakly at first, until it eventually became more violent, water pouring out from my mouth with each choked moment. All throughout, I kept a tight grip on the sand, managing to just about push myself up into a cobra position to more comfortably cough up the seawater. It all settled after a few reasonable minutes, and I took a moment to collect myself before even raising my head, deep breaths in and out. Slowly, my fingers relaxed and I released the sand, raising my head and looking around. It was a vast beach, softly sloping, not much to be seen in the distance. This was certainly better than being stranded at sea, I supposed. Much better, actually. Dry land, hopefully other food than poorly cooked fish. The same fish I’d had to rely on these past few weeks - months? - since rations ran out. A vague squawking then caught my attention, and off in the distance, more to my side, was the wreckage of the Hail Mary. What was once an intimidating, decently sturdy ship was now a mound of debris. Half was missing, planks, crates, and rope scattered around the remaining half, the mast laying like a fallen tree. Like the tallest tree in a forest collapsing, a loss of pride. Right, the squawking. My eyes flicked from stray item to plain wood, trying to locate the erratic sounds. Eventually, I found the source, an unusual grey peeking out from the browns of the sand and wood. It was Rocky. I quickly scrambled to my feet, forgetting how weak my muscles were, stumbling and collapsing back onto the sand with a soft thud. I groaned, pulling myself up again. My legs protested to walking, aching unbearably, leaving me to rely solely on my subtly quivering arms. I dragged myself across the beach with much effort, leaving a sort of crater as I went, marking my path like some snake.
Eventually, I managed to reach Rocky, realising one of its wings was trapped under a pile of debris, too heavy for a bird to slip free from easily. “I got you buddy, hang on…” I breathed, pausing to collect myself before shifting onto my hands and knees and starting to carefully shift the wood off. When its wing was finally free, I took Rocky in my hands and took a closer look at it. Vague spots of red stained its feathers, and the wing was stiff, too awkward to not be broken in some way. I sighed, my lips pursing while Rocky squirmed in my hold, still frantically squawking, in what I now knew was likely immense pain. I placed Rocky down on the sand gently, unwrapping the cloth from my wrist - the stained yellow fabric I used as a sort of bracelet - and began wrapping Rocky’s wing with it. One handheld the wing to Rocky’s body, the other gently manoeuvring the fabric over the wing, around the body, then securing it in place with both hands. It was the best I could do for it now, unless we found a settlement somewhere, this was all we had. “You’ll be alright, bud, I’m here.” I muttered, collecting Rocky from the sand once more, raising it to my shoulder. Rocky stepped out of my hands and onto my shoulder, over to my back, talons digging into the worn fabric of my shirt. Its squawks had settled, and it seemed somewhat comfortable now. I hoped so, at least. Now that Rocky was safe, I decided to drag myself over to a nearby crate, assuming something useful would be inside. Within, there were a few tools, tools that I’d assumed come from below deck, items that gunners or boatswains would use. I shifted through what remained to try and find something I could potentially use as a sort of walking stick. I showed each item I pulled out to Rocky, who’d make a brief comment before moving on, like a sort of peer review. Eventually, I came across a rusted iron crow, a peculiarly long one. I showed what was more like a rod than a crow to Rocky, and it perked up, bobbing its head in what I’d come to recognise as agreement. Gently, I scratched my finger against the side of its neck then dug one end of the iron crow into the ground, leaning on it heavily, dragging myself onto my feet. The ache from earlier remained, my muscles protesting to my movements, but now being able to offload some of my weight onto the crow certainly helped it become more bearable. “So, Rock, where to now?” I hummed, looking around the beach. “Finding a settlement would be most ideal…” While Rocky knew a grand deal of vocabulary, speaking to a parrot wasn’t the most stimulating experience around. It helped to voice my thoughts aloud, however, ensuring clear communication so I wouldn’t accidentally stress Rocky in any way. Rocky was all I had, after all, and speaking to it was what was keeping me alive and sane right now. I didn’t dare imagine where I’d be right now otherwise. I turned my eyes up to the sky, “If we can’t find a village, setting up camp for the night will become top priority.”
“Top priority.” Rocky mimed,
“We’ll keep moving during the day—“ I continued, noticing Rocky’s head bobbing out of the corner of my eye while I explained.
“The day.”
“And settle at night.”
“Settle.”
“Sounds like you got it all down, pal.” I raised my free hand and scratched its beak with the tip of my finger in short, swift back and forth motions. We then made our way up the beach, as quickly as my weak legs supported only by the iron crow would allow. The sand began to give way to patches of grass, whole fields of yellowish green streaks swaying and bending with the breeze. Things grew hillier and rockier from there as grass grew denser, sand blending in with actual rock and dirt before dwindling entirely. The distance was now lined with steep hills of varying shades of green, occasionally broken by a rock formation. Natural life was a good sign, it meant there was at least something we could potentially eat without having to go through the effort of hunting. However, I hadn’t spotted a single path yet, no makeshift ways or trampled areas that would suggest human life. It was disappointing to say the least, but it would be entirely wishful thinking to hope to stumble across traces of people this early. We had no idea how large this island was, if I could even refer to it as such. Still, we continued forwards, traversing steep hillsides carefully, Rocky nagging in my ear the entire time, warning me not to place the crow in certain places and almost ordering I did so elsewhere to go onwards. I knew his bossy commands came from a place of better judgement; different species had their strengths and traversing unstable rocky formations obviously wasn’t one of mine. Atop the hills was the safest place we could possibly be for when high tide came around, or if another storm hit. Though, from the looks of the sky and the peaceful white fluffy clouds passing, it seemed unlikely. We walked for hours, the sun rising and falling overhead while we trekked through fields and further inland. Admittedly, our walk wasn’t as brief as I made it sound in that description. I had to pause numerous times along the way, sitting in the long grass or keeling over the crow when my muscles decided I’d done quite enough walking. Food and water were also at a premium. I only had the canister hanging from my belt, and I could hardly class the water within it clean, nor enough to keep both myself and Rocky going. Food was even scarcer, since I’d left it all behind in the husk of what once was the Hail Mary. I wouldn’t have been able to carry a crate of stored fish we’d caught all this way, not with one arm and a body barely supporting my own weight. That’s why it was quite the relief when we stumbled across a forest just as dusk began to settle, the lowered sun painting hues of yellows and orange in streaks across the sky. The land was tainted a warm amber, the breeze now weaved with a chill that warned for the lower temperatures of the night.
“Grace rest again.” Rocky squawked beside me, almost chiding, though it lacked the tone, its blunt style made the order clear. “Grace get little sleep.”
That’s when I paused, turning my head to look at the bird perched upon my shoulder like a king on his throne. For a creature so vastly different from humans, it was strangely aware of my habits and needs. Maybe that came from the numerous times it had sat and watched me do various things while on the Hail Mary – eat, clean, sleep, tend to reopening wounds and maintaining my hair at a decent length, amongst many other things that I did in between the necessities. “I get enough.” I responded while continuing walking to try and find a decent spot to settle down for the night.
Rocky made a clicking sound, a sound I had heard numerous times before, and assumed was Rocky’s way of displaying its displeasure or disagreement. “Grace weak, statement.” Rocky stated bluntly, making a side-step on my shoulder to stand slightly closer to my head. “Grace rely on stick now. Grace walk by Grace self before.”
I laughed slightly, a breathy sound coming from the back of my throat rather than my chest. “You’re just stating the obvious, Rock.” I shook my head, “And sleep won’t cure this issue, I’m afraid.”
“Why not, question?” Rocky piped up immediately, straightening its legs a little, standing taller, attentive.
“It’s just… Not that kind of issue.”
“Grace answer vague.”
“How about we stop talking for a while?” I murmured, nudging some undergrowth out of the way with the crow before moving forwards. Rocky didn’t sound too pleased, those same clicking sounds hanging between us, but no further conversation. As intelligent as Rocky was, it still had a long way to go with certain things regarding humans. To Rocky, I imagined rest was what it was used to when injured. No medicine, no intense procedures. Rocky didn’t grasp the concept that humans didn’t exactly rely on the ‘survival of the fittest’ rule anymore, at least, not like wildlife does. Anyway, we came across a patch of dense undergrowth, lengthy grass and thick shrubbery that seemed like a decent enough spot to rest. The shrubbery and bushes would help conceal us a little better, and we may be able to spend the night undetected by potential predators. I say ‘we,’ but it was usually more about me. Rocky typically had the luxury of being able to rest up in a tree, high above where most things can possibly reach it. Lucky bird, I internally sighed, manoeuvring through the undergrowth before pressing my back against a trunk and sliding down carefully until I was sat, the iron crow discarded beside me. “Well, this is it until tomorrow.” I piped up finally, turning to Rocky. The bird was approaching the edge of my shoulder carefully, going backwards awkwardly. It then dug its talons into the fabric of my shirt and slid down my chest, flapping it’s still intact wing uselessly as it went. Rocky landed clumsily in my lap, taking a second before ruffling its feathers and finding its footing once more.
“Grace sleep first, is Rocky’s turn to watch.” Rocky stated with a dip of its body before continuing down my leg.
I should probably preface that it is a relatively useful… ‘habit’ of Rocky’s to keep watch while sleeping. I didn’t question it, since it was vital for survival out on the ocean, a custom among sailors, too. Though I imagine Rocky’s watching habit came from natural instincts of a bird watching their nest. “Alright, alright.” I sighed with a weary smile, waiting for Rocky to hop down off me before sinking further down the tree trunk until I was laying amongst the greenery. I shifted onto my side with a muffled grunt, slowly curling my legs up to my chest with my arms tucked between them for maximum warmth; I really wish I’d checked the ship for any salvageable coverings before setting off. I then felt Rocky press himself into the back of my knees, the crevice between my thighs and my lower legs. Rocky’s feathers ruffled briefly before I felt it really begin to settle, raising one leg while the other dug into the ground. It didn’t yet tuck its head into its back wings, remaining alert to watch while I slept.
“Grace comfortable, question?” Rocky asked, lowering its voice to a suitable, though still rather odd whisper.
“Yeah, bud.” I responded without moving, trying to conserve as much heat as possible. The nippy breeze from earlier had dropped further by now, a more level chill that I could feel seeping through my thin clothing right down to the bone. But I didn’t dare tell Rocky that, refused to even shiver too much. I didn’t want to cause worry.
“Good, good, good.” Rocky chirped quietly.
A peaceful quiet settled between us, marked by the soft rustling of the undergrowth, leaves and branches swaying with the fresh ocean breeze. Cool air filled my lungs with each deep breath in I took, vague traces of salt weaved into the air which I barely took notice of anymore. I shifted a little, curling myself tighter – if that was even possible – with my eyes focused on the roots that encircled where we lay like an embrace. I spent my time watching ants scramble about, rushing back and forth then disappearing into cracks within the soil. If only we could dig into the ground, could rest somewhere with better concealment, better safety. Out in the open like this wasn’t exactly ideal, there was probably better places to be, much better places. Who knew what was out there? We don’t even know where we are, if there even is any civilisation or if we’re just stranded, left against the natural world. I sighed and shook my head slightly, pushing those worries aside for now. What I should be focused on is getting through each day one at a time; that would better ensure our survival. I continued watching the ants as the last light of day dwindled and my eyes began to grow weary until eventually drifting shut. Things were going to be alright.
.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧
“With me, Dr. Grace.”
Captain Stratt. I paused at the sound of her voice, then slowly turning to meet her eye. She was stood confidently with one hand rested on her hip, thumb tucked into one of the belt straps rested just above her hipbones. It hit me at once. The salty air, a gentle rocking underfoot, and the unmistakable sloshing of water rippling, carrying the Hail Mary. Stratt cleared her throat, raising her brows. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded, following just a step behind the captain while she paved the way across the deck to her own cabin in that familiar purposeful stride of hers. It was never a leisurely walk with the captain, never a moment’s rest unless it was mealtime or a Sunday moment of respite.
“Did something happen?” I asked, poking my chin forwards a little, attempting to catch the captain’s profile, or at least meet her eyes. The eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and while the captain was the least expressive woman I’d ever met, her micro-expressions spoke volumes. She made no answer, and I couldn’t see past her hair. So, I tried again, “It’s not common for me to be required here, of all places.” I gave a small laugh, hoping the more casual approach would break down the tension building in the silence of our brief journey from one side of the ship to the other. Stratt didn’t even seem to acknowledge me, fixed intensely on whatever it was she was guiding me to. She pushed open the door leading into her cabin and went in without even glancing behind her to check I was still there. She did that often, perhaps just illicitly aware that I wouldn’t stray. I closed the door behind myself and followed Stratt down the steps, immediately noticing some of the other members of the crew already around. So, this was a meeting. That made more sense, I supposed. Quartermaster Carl, already stood beside Stratt’s desk with his hands rested in his pockets; The sailing master – Yao – stood nearby with his arms behind his back; and a boatswain named Ilyukhina. It was… Quite the line-up, one that suggested something intense. Something important. And yet, nobody moved, didn’t even look at each other. Captain Stratt took her place behind her desk, stood with her back to each of us, gazing distantly out of the circular porthole. I glanced between each person present, suddenly nervous. Not a soul moved, not even a cough. Something felt… off. Immensely so, like there was some general consensus here that I’d just completely missed.
“We require your help, Dr. Grace.” Stratt finally spoke but still didn’t move.
I glanced between everyone present once again, and not a single person there moved a muscle. “Alright…” I mumbled, shifting my weight between my feet, “Is it another amputation? I don’t see why we’d need everyone here for that—” My words fell short when the captain turned, her entire appearance altered in the blink of an eye. She was incredibly pale, her eyes blank and entirely unblinking, forcing me to keep a hold of those foggy pupils without brief respite. I instinctively took a slight step back, eyes flicking around the room, realising quickly the very same thing was occurring to them as well. Carl’s usually perfect stance became hunched and twisted, Yao’s shoulder sagged awkwardly, arm twisted beyond saving, and Ilyukhina’s head slowly turned, her eyes fixed wide upon me. Blood was everywhere, so very suddenly. Clothes torn and stained, presenting gash wounds secreting pools of viscous deep red blood, gunshot wounds that poked holes in the bodies of the crew; deep holes that revealed tissue and hints of yellowed bone beneath if I squinted. Which… I honestly didn’t want to do. Another step back. Each of them looked as though they were melting like a candle, skin stretching and wrinkling under an invisible heat and sliding off their damaged bones. Was it truly melting, or more like corroding? A heavy discomfort settled in the pit of my stomach, a discomfort that I didn’t have the stomach for, but found myself unable to choke up. My heart pounded against my ribs, and it suddenly felt like the ship was facing one of its worst storms, jolting one way then the other, throwing me off balance. The world spun and my mouth was dry, each swallow feeling like I was attempting to intake a large handful of glass. Cold seeped into my being, even with the sweat dripping down my forehead. I opened my mouth but only managed to make a choked sound, my jaw snapping shut once again, locking defensively. My eyes found Stratt’s again and I had to grip my throat this time, holding back the familiar burn that had suddenly shot up from my abdomen. Stratt’s hair was matted with thick clumps of blood, and if she wasn’t bloodied in some way, her skin was blanketed with some kind of ashen powder. Both her hands were missing, and I didn’t stop to consider where they could possibly be, too distracted by the spurting fountain of blood pouring from each. I shuddered. The usually well-maintained captain was almost unrecognisable, the thing before me was by no means the captain, more like a sick copy. A twisted zombie of blood and aggressive, angry burns. Burns that crinkled her skin into ugly patches of blisters and raised white flecks that peeled to reveal rawness beneath. The same could be said about Carl beside her, though he was arguably in a much worse condition. In fact, I hardly knew how he was still standing with a gaping hole in his lower torso, heavily to the left. It was curtained by shreds of what remained of his shirt, strands of cloth dangling down around haphazardly to barely conceal the obliterated bone. Obliterated, completely shattered, an impossible fix. The remaining two were of a similar condition, not worth mentioning without repeating myself – burns, peeled skin, burst blisters seething with a glistening puss, and so very many dismembered bones and twisted parts dowsed in litres of blood, injuries that should mean immediate death. It was then that I realised all eyes were on me. Fixed staring. Waiting. I took another swallow of glass. Nobody seemed to care about the state they were in, nor the state of the others, the state of the ship in general. It was like they didn’t even notice. Slowly, I turned my eyes downwards to look at my own hands. They were still there, luckily for me, and nothing seemed broken or burnt. All until a sudden sharp pain pierced straight through my chest. I choked, blood spattering from my mouth, staining my palms. Air suddenly left my lungs, and I had to take deep, ragged breaths to provide myself with what felt like bare minimum oxygen. Once again, nobody moved. I staggered and reached out towards Stratt, towards her desk pathetically, my ears ringing and the pounding in my chest not slowing for a second. One hand desperately clutched at my chest, unable to find the source of my wound, unable to feel any blood seeping through my clothing, nothing. Coughs wracked my form once more, even more blood spattering from my throat until my eyes watered and air felt more like a premium. I curled inwards, falling hard onto my knees, unable to stop the coughs from coming. It felt like an immense pressure on my back, like numerous people weighing down on me, boots and jagged bone digging into my spine, pressing down hard enough to crush my lungs against the ground. Numerous eyes watched, entirely motionless. There was nobody to turn to, to cry out to for help as I drowned in blood spat out from somewhere deep within me until the faint metallic taste became the only thing I could focus on, unable to catch my breath any longer.
I shot upright, gasping for breath as I clutched at my chest, scraping desperately at my shirt. Rocky was stood on one of my legs, flapping it's one healthy wing frantically while squawking without much meaning or clear words, more like some distress call than its usual imitation of our human words. I paused, looking around frantically at the woodland setting, realising we were on solid ground. Immediately I turned my eyes down to my hands. They were perfectly fine, only the tips of my fingers stained with dirt that wormed its way under my fingernails as well. Nothing I wasn’t already used to, however. I was merely grateful that there was no blood, no pain. Carefully, I laid back against the tree, running a hand through my sweat-streaked hair, trying to reorganise my thoughts while taking deep breaths, calming my racing heart and filling my lungs with generous quantities of air that felt lacking mere moments before. Rocky remained panicked, pacing around in circles on my leg, likely convinced something horrendous was happening, something that it couldn’t fully understand. How could I explain a nightmare to something that probably didn’t even experience sleep in the same way? Did parrots even dream? Well, there was no way to test such a thing. I exhaled deeply. If only there was a way to compare human sleeping patterns to other creatures. Why had no-one considered this yet? I lowered my hand from my hair and reached out to gently take a hold of Rocky, pausing its erratic motions. Its body went limp in my grasp, head perking and turning to look at me with those sharp, distinctive motions. We stared at each other for a while, and while I had no idea what Rocky could possibly be thinking or processing, but I didn’t want to disturb it.
Finally, Rocky used its words, “Grace friend alright, question?” Rocky’s head darting forwards, attempting to get closer to me in an apparent effort to check up on me. I didn’t have the chance to reassure it before Rocky piped up again, “Grace leak in sleep, Grace breathe funny.”
“I’m alright, Rocky.” I responded, shaking my head with a sheepish smile. “How do I explain this… It’s a human thing, something that we call a ‘nightmare.’”
“Nightmare bad, question?”
I thought, then shook my head, “Depends on who you ask. Nightmares aren’t real, they’re just our brains playing scary scenarios while we sleep, they’re not dangerous.” Rocky’s head bobbed with understanding, and I released it from my hold now that it understood that I wasn’t… I don’t know, dying? I turned my eyes up to the sky, counting the flecks of stars peering through the canopy. “It’s still pretty late.” I commented before Rocky could decide on potentially digging further into my psyche. “Let’s swap out now, I’ll watch.”
Rocky didn’t move for a moment, looking as though it was assessing me. Or judging. Birds weren’t exactly expressive through typical facial features like mammals. Eventually, Rocky bobbed its head and hopped off my leg, wandering over to a root that protruded relatively high out of the ground. It perched onto the root, again raising one leg and shutting its eyes. Sleeping upright was always something I thought to be odd, but doing so on one leg? It was utter insanity. Species had their differences, I supposed, we didn’t exactly have to agree on the way that the other did things. In fact, Rocky did quite a few things more efficiently than I probably could, but I’m not going to get into that, unless I wanted to really embarrass myself. My top concern as of now was to watch, allowing Rocky to rest. I picked up a twig from nearby, idly poking around at the ground while listening to the surroundings – which was mainly the rustle of leaves in the night breeze along with the occasional sound in the distance from nocturnal creatures. It was a peaceful night, so far anyway. I titled my head back against the tree again, watching the stars before they disappeared behind invisible clouds, sneaking up on them from the shadows. A low fog had settled, blanketing the unruly grass and shrubs in a mist, swallowing whatever it was in the near distance and leaving just an eerie silhouette in its place. Then, a twig snapped nearby. I tensed, straightening immediately to look around, though the fog didn't exactly make it easy. Snapping twigs and rustles usually weren't an issue, maybe I was just on edge? Maybe I was just imagining the sound much closer than it actually was-
Nope, nope. There was definitely something in the distance, something that I could just about differentiate from the silhouettes of the surrounding plants. And it certainly wasn't moving to avoid where we were, in fact, the silhouette began to grow clearer, and I could just about make out that it was human. As much as I wanted to be relieved that there even was another person on this island, I didn't want to jump to conclusions and assume they were friendly; we could've crashed onto an island homing some kind of cannibalistic civilisation for all I knew. I held my breath and remained perfectly still, hoping that this other person wouldn't notice either of us and would move along, and I wouldn't have to risk trusting a stranger that just wanted to eat me. Eventually, the person came into close enough proximity for me to make out better even at my safe distance. He was a relatively tall man, just over average height, with broad shoulders and an almost concerningly lean frame, the clothes he wore hanging off his limbs in a drape that didn't seem to be for a fashion statement. The man's hair was, assumedly, shoulder length in messy waves. Actually, now that I paid proper attention to his movements, he seemed to be... struggling. His motions were by no means stable, and it seemed more like staggering than purposeful walking. Did he even know he was coming this way? Was he even lucid? Maybe this man wasn't a cannibal, maybe I'd been too quick to fear this one man, perhaps we were in some kind of similar situation- I paused, bark from the tree crumbling down onto my shoulder. My eyes flicked between the now dented trunk and the man before me, then over to Rocky, who’d been rudely awakened by the sound of the shot. I quickly placed a hand over Rocky’s beak, forcing it to remain silent and not panic. Though, I’ll admit, I was also incredibly frightened. The man staggered forwards still, slowly, like he was also being wary of us. Then, he swayed. Realisation hit me quickly and before I could even think it through, I’d grabbed the iron crow and made my way over to the man as quickly as possible. The man toppled just as I reached him, falling directly on top of me. I wasn’t exactly the most stable on my feet either, and we’d ended up collapsed on the ground, amongst dense leaves and sticks. I winced, just lying there for a few moments, the weight of the man pressing down on me - what was more than likely dead weight I realised as the other remained completely still. Eventually, I managed to shift beneath him, carefully rolling his limp form off mine and onto the ground. From the much closer proximity, I was able to get a better inspection of him, and the first thing that caught my attention in the low light was his amputated left arm, wrapped in yellowed, worn bandages stained with a darker colour that I could only assume was blood. It wasn't a very typical amputation, however. Amputations were usually done either below or above the elbow, or in certain cases the arm would simply be removed entirely from the shoulder joint— Hold on, how do I know all of that? Regardless, what was important was that this one did none of those things, and the point of severance was directly in the middle of his upper arm in what I imagined to be anything but purposeful. There was also intense scarring on the left side of his neck, and face, disappearing under the collar of his shirt to, I could only imagine, the amputation. The scars appeared to be corrosive in nature, from something like acid perhaps, par from a particular point on his neck which was a blatant burn scar. I pulled away finally and focused on carefully removing the pistol from his hand just as Rocky finally made its way over.
"New human, question?" Rocky asked as I placed his pistol securely into a pouch that I had hanging from one of my belts. I then brought two fingers to the right side of the man's neck, not wanting to disturb the scarring on the left side, and felt around for a pulse. After a few moments of prodding around, I found it; it was faint, but undoubtedly there. The man must've passed out from either starvation, dehydration, or general lethargy. Perhaps all three at the same time. He wasn't in the best of conditions, after all. Rocky hopped up onto his leg, climbing up from the lower leg to his thigh then pausing on his chest, its head darting about as it studied him from numerous angles all in rapid processions. "Rocky name it Grace 2, statement." It concluded, turning back to face me.
"That's... Not exactly how this works." I sighed, gently taking hold of Rocky and placing it back onto the ground, off of the man. I didn't know for certain what else was wrong with him or his body, it was best if Rocky didn't put anymore unnecessary weight directly onto his chest, regardless of how light Rocky was.
Rocky cocked its head to one side, "Why, question? We found thing, we name human."
"Well, firstly, I'm pretty sure he found us first, not the other way around." I responded, holding up one finger, "Secondly, he's a person, not some scientific discovery, he probably already has a name."
Rocky made some clicking sounds then fell silent before asking, “What do now, question?”
I thought for a moment, glancing between the man and Rocky, then up to the sky. “…We watch him sleep.” I responded, returning my attention to Rocky. “It’s still going to be a few hours until sunrise, so we’ll wait until he wakes up.”
”Grace answer stupid.” Rocky tapped one foot against the ground, “Grace get no sleep, Grace not rest well. New human attack Grace and Rocky — bad, bad, bad.”
”He could also be our chance to finding civilisation.”
”Is top priority, Rocky remember.” It began walking back and forth, pacing like a man would in thought. The imitation of the action was scarily similar, almost impressive if it wasn’t a bird repeating the action. “Rocky still think bad idea.” It finally stopped pacing, facing me.
I sighed, taking the man’s confiscated pistol from my belt and placing it before Rocky, attempting to convince him of our safety. “Look, he’s unarmed now, and from what I can gather of his condition, he’s no stronger than I am right now.” I explained, gesturing to the man’s unconscious form. It was impressive he was able to fire the one shot at us before passing out completely, especially almost exactly on target, though I imagine that was the last of his adrenaline acting. The last of some stubborn willpower to keep going. “And we’ll make sure he hasn’t got anything else on him, too. You know how sailors are…” I chuckled slightly to myself as I moved my hands to his numerous belts, removing the sheath from his side and placing it down in the soon to be pile of weaponry. Hidden daggers came next, all clattered into the mound of metal.
”Rocky think new human pirate.” Rocky suddenly piped up, poking at the pile with its beak. “Dressed similar to Grace, carry similar metal.”
I pulled myself away, leaning back. “I was trying to be nice about it.” I responded, collecting the daggers from the pile and storing them away on my person instead, followed by the sword and the pistol.
”How sure Grace that new human knows where other humans be?”
”Wishful thinking.” I answered.
”What wishful thinking, question?”
”A sort of… Stupid hope, Rock.” I explained, then shook my head. Even if this man didn’t know if there was any kind of town or village around here, it was nice to have another actual person around. Not to discredit Rocky or its company, of course. “Regardless, we can’t just leave him here now.”
”Grace think new human help us if we help new human, question?”
I looked up at Rocky. “No, no, nothing like that.” I returned my attention to the man, brows furrowing. It was selfish to think like that, an eye for an eye. I doubted this man knew more than we did about this island, anyway. Rather, I felt particularly obliged to help him, to make sure he survived this night after clearly fighting alone for so very long. “Let’s just… Let’s prop him up against the tree.” I dragged myself back over to the man, placing one of my arms under his while my free hand grabbed the iron crow once more. Rocky followed alongside me as I awkwardly shuffled through the shrubbery, making a distance that should have been a few steps into a whole fiasco - what should have been mere moments was more like fifteen minutes. Still, we eventually made it back to the tree that we were using as our resting place and settled the man up against it like I formally was. Now, all we had to do was wait. Wait out the rest of the night, wait until the man came to.
.° ｡𖦹˚ 𓆝 ｡𖦹°‧