Fire on the water. The moon ripples. Smoke in her eyes. In her throat. She ducks below into the freezing depths and glances up at the inferno of light bearing down on her. Her lungs scream as she swims below the bright patches of flame until she finds a dark spot to surface. Her desperate gasp sucks down cold night air as she breaks through the black surface of the sea.
A moment to get her bearings. What remains of her ship isn’t far. She sees the silhouettes of men prowling its wrecked decks. A snarl contorts her bloodied lips. Traitors.
Her hands move deftly over the charred planks of the hull as she hoists herself quietly up the side of the ship. She rolls over the gunwale and drops silently onto the deck. She casts around at the unsuspecting men all around her. Her knife flashes free of its sheath, mirroring back the treacherous light of the fire and moon.
Paddy Dobson
17th January 2022