A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 15 - "You believe that he could be dangerous."

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.