“What are you smiling about?” Briallen says with a grin as she walks over in the dark. The sun is almost fully set now, just casting the lightest rays across the ocean.
“Just thinking of those deepjaws,” I lie. “A couple more hauls like this and you’ll have your own ship.”
Briallen gets that dreamy look in her eyes. “I can’t imagine…”
We’re both lost in thought, imagining dreamy futures that may or may not come when Isen hollers.
“Captain! Body in the water, port side!”
I burst over, rushing to the edge of the ship. The rest of the crew joins me.
There’s someone down there about a hundred yards out.
“Keep your eye on him!” I shout to Isen.
“Aye, Captain!” he hollers back.
“What’s he holding onto?” I ask, squinting to see in the darkness.
“Looks like a tree,” Edrik says. He has the best eyesight of us all.
“I don’t like this,” Drakor says nervously. “It could be a trap.”
“He looks dead, Captain,” Edrik says, squinting. “His head is lolled back and his eyes are closed.”
“Prolly a wolf shifter,” Petr says, spitting overboard. “This here is dem parts.”
“Let’s pick him up and kill him,” Valther says, grinning.
“We’re not doing that,” I snap. The humans and the wolves have a treaty. I’m not about to break two centuries of peace for a half-dead floater.
“Lower the skiff,” I order.
Valther turns to me in disbelief. “For a fucking wolf? Let the fucker drown.”
I step up to him, getting right in his face. He’s about a foot taller than me and probably about double my size, but I don’t care.
“The skiff,” I snap, standing on my toes. “Now.”
He takes a deep breath and lowers his gaze. “Aye, Captain.”
“And for the insolence,” I say, “you get to paddle.”
“Aye, Captain,” he grunts.
I point at Drakor and Petr. “What are you two gaping at? Go help him!”
They rush to unload the skiff while I hurry back to the edge, keeping my eyes on the floating man as we drift closer. He’s out of it. He may be dead already.
A small spark in my gut hopes that’s not the case. I can’t take my eyes off him. He seems to be naked and his arm looks pinned to the crook of a branch, his shoulder twisted in an unnatural position.
“I’m coming,” I whisper to him.
“Skiff is ready, Captain!” Valther bellows.
I take one last look at him and hurry to the rowboat.
Chapter Three
