Pain stabbed through Isla's sleep, forcing her into the world. Groaning, she rolled and draped her legs off the edge of her bed and buried her head in her hands. Her back throbbed from the previous night's altercations. Gritting her teeth, she hoisted herself off the mattress, the pain flared up and she closed her eyes, guarding herself against it. When she was certain she wasn't going to cry out, she opened her eyes.

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the window, creating long shadows across the floor. Overhead the ship hummed with life. Isla crossed to her door and opened it. The hum grew, taking on the form of conversations and the thumping of boots.

"Sparrow!" Isla yelled.

The voices died down and a single shout repeated the summons. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and through the passageway as men returned to their talks. Sparrow halted before Isla seeming to burst with energy.

"Yes, Captain?" he asked.

"I need salve."

He nodded and darted away. Isla retreated into her cabin with less enthusiasm, her limbs stiff and sore. Sucking in a breath, she tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her back exposed except for the binding around her chest. She sank in a chair and gently prodded her ribs, finding the spots that responded with spikes of irritation. When Sparrow returned he faltered in the doorway at the sight of so much skin.

"Uh..."

She waved him inside.

"Shut the door."

The last thing she needed was Hawk seeing the additional bruises that didn't coincide with the fight in the tavern.

Sparrow did as she ordered but barely moved beyond that point. Isla narrowed her eyes at him, a silent command. Swallowing, he hedged his way towards her. As he caught a view of the patches of color blooming on Isla's back, all his hesitation fell away.

"I didn't think you hit the table that hard," he said.

"Salve," she gritted out.

Sparrow jumped into action, unscrewing the lid, filling the room with a musty, earthy scent. The second the cool ointment hit Isla's skin, she relaxed. The angry throbbing died to a dull ache. Finished, Sparrow stepped back and Isla stood taking the jar from his hands. As she took care of the bruises she could reach, Sparrow inventoried the damage done. When he found the marks on her neck, left by Raif's attack, he shuffled his foot.

"I don't remember you getting choked," he said.

Isla paused then twisted the lid back on, handing the container to Sparrow. As he reached for it, she held his gaze with intense severity. Understanding the unspoken order of remaining silent, he nodded and left.

Isla dressed with less difficulty than she had expected a few minutes before, but her body was still knotted. She chose a shirt with a high collar, hoping to hide Raif's handprint. The tenderness of the spot reminded her that a heavy decision lay before her.

As she climbed the stairs and passed from the dim hallway to the deck, sunlight poured over her, wrapping her up in warmth. Men worked around her, their shirts discarded as they soaked in the heat. Though the chores they did were ones they had done thousands of times before, there was a renewed energy to it. The days grounded on landed had restored their love of the sea, their true home.

Hawk stood at the wheel, a position which he had relieved Isla of after she had navigated them away from the city and put leagues between them and Caterum. Their eyes touched briefly, sharing the burden of knowing their impossible task.

Isla settled on the railing, watching the waves as they dashed themselves against the hull of the ship, always looking for a crack to enter in by. Even the ocean that filled her veins cared little for her survival.

The beat of boots alerted her to Hawk's approach moments before he took the space beside her. She didn't say anything. What was there to say?

"How did it go with Duke Sayers?" he asked.

Isla squeezed her hands together, trying not to feel the way her throat hurt when she talked.

"He has a condition."

"What is it?"

Sparrow's laughter tumbled from overhead like a bird's song. It was joined by lower, rougher ones, the boy's youth adding heart to the older sailors.

"He wants to be let out of the brig and given free rein of the ship."

"I see." Hawk stared out on the vast landscape that had no end, only a single edge that taunted adventurers to find it. "You believe that he could be dangerous."

Isla swallowed the red fingers on her neck scraping at the motion.

"Yes."

"But without this condition, he will not work with us."

Isla didn't respond because the answer was clear as were the implications. Without Raif's help, their endeavors to find the Emerald would be lengthened and so their debt to Lord Sutherland would be prolonged. Even if they used the tactic of starving Raif for the information the chance was high that the one lead he had would disappear. But to let him wander about unrestrained...

Hawk called out an order to Heath, who slipped away to do as instructed. When he returned he was carrying four slender rods. The ones Hawk used for raids. Thanking Heath, Hawk held out a pair to Isla.

"You do not know the answer, but some part of your mind does."

She accepted the rods. They were as smooth as silk and as durable as steel. She gripped them, feeling the weight of them in her palms.

"Isla, watch your footing," Zev said. He leaned against the railing of the ship, arms crossed, watching as Isla stood two feet from Hawk. In her small hands were two rods of dark wood. At thirteen years, she still only came up to Hawk's chest, but her body was lithe and quick. Facing each other, they stood with their knees bent slightly, stabilizing them against the sway of the deck.

"Remember," Hawk said, his voice calm and instructive. "The wood is an extension of you. You do not think about how your hand moves, it simply does." As he spoke, he gently swung his hands - which held similar pieces of wood - back and forth in front of him, control in every motion. "That is what you aim to achieve with the Kesh. One with the weapon you wield."

A question bubbled in Isla's mind and she found she couldn't contain it.

"Did your father teach you the Kesh?" she asked. She mimicked Hawk's movement, her arms tiring with the slowness of it.

"He did, as his father taught him, as every parent teaches their child. It is the technique of my land. Now, from the request of your father," his gaze darted to Zev, "and my captain, I pass it on to you."

The wood was growing heavier and heavier with every passing moment, but Isla gritted her teeth and continued to follow Hawk. The look of fierce determination in her eyes brought a hint of pride and amusement into Zev's face. It was a feeling he knew well and doubted many could stand before it. Around the deck, crewmen stopped and watched the blonde slip of a girl moving with slow deliberation.

"Does this make me Seau?" Isla managed to get out past the ache in her arms.

A light chuckle rolled from Hawk. "No, but it will give you the option of protection without fear of killing. The Kesh is meant to defend, not harm. It is also more than that. It is a way of letting your mind run free as you focus on your body. What problems you have will be given solutions as you concentrate on your movements."

Isla could only nod to this, absorbed on not giving in to her weakening muscles. When her arms began to shake and it felt like they would fall off, Hawk straightened, letting his arms rest by his sides. Letting out a breath of relief, Isla mirrored him. Zev clapped approvingly and Isla beamed at him.

"You have control and stamina," Hawk said, pulling her attention back. "These are the two key traits you need to master the Kesh."

"When do I learn how to fight with them?" she asked.

"When you no longer have to think about the weight of them."

A frown creased Isla's forehead as if this wasn't fast enough. Zev chuckled at the expression.

"Do not fret Little Wander," he said. "The time will come. As it always does for all things."

Hawk raised his rods and Isla followed, their weight no longer a burden to her. They circled each other, judging the other's stance, focus, and ability.

"You need an answer to your question that seems not to be there," Hawk said, his tone changing into one of philosopher as they made a slow rotation. "Put it from your mind. Think of nothing but the Kesh, the decision you must choose will make itself known. Now."

He stepped forward and Isla met him, their weapons colliding with each other. The wood rang with a deep note, vibrations skittering down her arms. She spun, swinging for Hawk's thigh, but the attack was blocked. A swoosh of air was the only warning she had before she raised her arm, stopping Hawk's blow to her head. She ducked and aimed for his ribs but he stepped out of reach.

Isla was sore but as she moved her muscles relaxed, loosening up until all she was aware of was the shift in Hawk's stance, the opening on his right, the strength in her assault, the glimmer of dark wood in the corner of her eye, the whisper of wind in her ear, the beat of her heart, the blood rushing through her.

It was not a fight, but a compliment of strengths. They were like two birds spinning around each other, tumbling through the air, never losing sight of the other and always pushing their companion to greater heights.

When they finally came to an end, Isla was flushed and the wounds of before were mere annoyances that time would smooth away. As she stood facing Hawk, she was returned to her surroundings. The crew had formed up around them, watching. Even the ones that had been down below at the start had been notified.

Though there were no cheers, their silence was packed with their pride and hope that rested in her. She was more than a single girl, she was an accumulation of all they knew. These men who had watched her from first steps to first fights. As they trusted her, she gazed back at them, trusting them.

"Do you have your answer?" Hawk asked.

Isla handed him the rods. "I do."

After meeting each sailors' eyes, she cut across the deck and descended the stairs. Faint light followed her as she headed down the narrow hall to the brig. The lock slid back and she swung the door open, stepping in.

Raif didn't move, his arms hanging out to either side. There appeared to be no fight left in him, but Isla was not deceived. Though the room was dim, she could see his gaze studying her, searching for the reason for the visit and if it leaned in his favor.

Without speaking, she unlocked his shackles. The second his wrists were free, he rubbed them, trying to revive the blood flow. He stared up at her, eyes narrowed with caution.

"You accept," he said.

The words of acceptance would not make it past her lips. Instead, she grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He stood taller than her, but Isla was accustomed to being looked down on by men. Their physical advantage was one she had taught herself to not see as intimidating but as a weapon to use, for their underestimation of her was her advantage.

"Come," she said.

As if her command weren't enough, she guided him out into the hallway and back to the deck. As they emerged, Raif squinted against the harsh glare of the sunlight. But even as he ducked his head, the rest of him straightened absorbing what he had been too long deprived of. As Isla halted before the crew, they quieted, all eyes riveted on Raif.

"Raif," Isla said, knowing that not acknowledging his title would demote the noblemen. "Will be assisting you with your jobs. In return, he will get to move about the ship."

She let go of his arm and he swayed, his legs adjusting to being used.

"If," she continued, "you see him stealing, punch him." Mouths twitched at this as neighbors nudged each other. "And if he tries to escape, break his leg."

She looked calmly into Raif's startled face. "Welcome to the crew."

**********************************************************************

Borrowed. Borrowed without asking.

*grabs sticks and starts swinging them around and jumping like an idiot* HI-YA! And a whack! And bam! That's right I'm awesome! I can look cool too whipping around a pair of sticks. *Sighs* You're right, all my characters are cooler than me. 😔

Let's move on before I get depressed over my fate of being overshadowed by my own creations. If you have thoughts or sticks you would like to contribute, do so here. 🗯💬💭⚔️

Poor Raif, he goes from being stuck in a brig to being surrounded by people ready to beat him up. I hope he handles it well or he's likely to not be able to walk much longer.

Katanungan para sa Kabanata (Tagalog / Filipino): How are you doing?

I know it's a simple question but I want an honest answer. Life is crazy and I want to hear how you are hanging in there.

Me? I'm alright. Days go up and down and sometimes I feel like I'm in the ocean not sure if the waters are calm or building up to something.

Oh! Look at me connecting my answer to my story with nautical lingo! Crushed it! 😏

Vote for peace, comment on life, follow what's true.