Chapter 11

New Version: 

The wagon slowed and then stopped. Jane's back thumped against the side of the wagon, bringing her back to the present.

"Alright, time to go," Bear said, briskly. He let the tailgate down and then hopped out. He disappeared around the side of the wagon. Sarah and Georgie scrambled out.

Jane didn't realize how weak she still was until she tried to move. Her limbs protested, forcing her into a slow crawl. A too-familiar whisper in her mind told her to give up. She was worthless, and that she'd always secretly known it. She needed to admit what she'd known the moment James Anthony Sawyer had introduced himself. He was the real hero and everyone who still believed in her was wrong.

Georgie climbed back into the wagon, and helped support Jane, which didn't do much to make her move faster, but it was a nice gesture.

"Attagirl!" Georgie said, crawling beside Jane.

'Worthless,' her mind whispered.

"Keep it up!"

Jane couldn't help but laugh. The whisper was persistent, but Georgie had never lost an argument with anyone, and she was a lot louder.

'Give up…'

You're doing great!"

By the time she stumbled out of the wagon, Jane was chuckling. Sarah caught Jane and helped her gain her balance. Jane looked up at Sarah and remembered that they weren't friends anymore. Instead of sobering her, the look of concern on Sarah's face sent Jane into a fit of giggles. Unfortunately, Jane didn't have the spare energy it took to laugh, so her giggles came out as whimpers.

Sarah sighed. She hooked Jane's arm around Sarah's neck and helped Jane move around to the side of the wagon.

Bear and Rufus stood at the front of the wagon. Although Rufus was only a couple of inches taller than Bear, he was at least twice as wide. It was odd to see him leaning on Bear for support.

Seeing Rufus looking as weak as Jane felt cured her giggle fit and Jane was suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of the villagers screaming and falling all around her. She wanted to help Rufus and go with Kate and fly back to the clearing to make sure the villagers were okay. She swayed as the dark fog that had overtaken her earlier clouded the edges of her vision.

Bear frowned as he looked up at Kate who was still in the driver's seat. "You going to be okay?" he asked quietly. He held a hand out to her.

Jane could only see Kate's profile as she looked down at Bear. She took his hand. "I think so," she said. "I'm still not sure what happened --" she broke off and turned to see Jane and Sarah watching them. She retracted her hand and smiled at the girls. "You all should get going. I'll ditch these shadows and catch up with you in Erinrae."

Bear looked over too. "Yes. You head for the trees. I've got Rufus."

His serious expression was so out of character that it made Jane shiver. Sarah helped Jane turn around and they started across the road as Georgie scrambled out of the back of the wagon and latched the tailgate in place. Jane's dizziness seemed to increase every moment, but she stopped every couple of feet to make sure that Rufus and Bear were still behind her and Sarah.

"Bear, can you walk ahead of us?" Sarah asked, sounding exasperated. "We're not going to get far if she keeps checking on you guys."

"Of course," Bear said. His worried face briefly passed across Jane's vision. "I'm not sure why she's still sick but we don't have time to stop and check her out right now. I want to get out of the road before the shadows catch us."

Bear and Rufus passed the girls, which allowed Jane to breathe more easily, although not by much. Her old friend, the whisperer was back; the chorus of villagers' screams a chorus to its hymn of despair.

"I'll see if I can find us a path," Georgie said. She darted ahead of everyone and disappeared into the trees.

Jane tried to focus on walking, but she felt a desperate need to see everyone she loved in front of her and safe. She hadn't allowed herself to think of her mother since the shadows had attacked, but what if her mother had indeed been a part of the caravan? Or, what if the shadows looked for Jane at home first, and had found her mother there? Jane pictured her mother lying on the floor of the cabin, embedded with needles. Then her mind flashed to the town square, where the half of the village that had stayed behind were splayed all around the square, riddled with needles. Then to the villagers who had been attacked in the clearing.

She deliberately replaced these images with the usual one of her mother peacefully reading in front of the fire, a bustling town square full of healthy villagers, and images of Farmer Beverly sitting up and shaking off his nightmares. Everyone around him did the same. There was no way to know what, if anything, had happened to her mother. If Jane was going to be able to function, should would have to assume that her mother she'd left behind were all okay.

She focused on getting her legs to move quicker, which was difficult because she couldn't feel them anymore. Trees blurred by. She wanted to believe that it was because she was moving so fast, but she had a feeling it was the poison that was on the needles. She clutched on to her final shreds of consciousness. She wouldn't let go until she knew Georgie was okay. She was so focused on catching a glimpse of Georgie through the trees that she didn't see the tree root that came up to her calf. She tripped hard, slipping out of Sarah's grasp.

Her forehead hit the dirt and then she was on her back. Something poked at her under her arm and she reached for what she assumed would be a twig. She held it up. It was a long, thin piece of metal.

Long, nimble fingers plucked the needle out of Jane's grasp. "I thought we got them all," a garbled version of Georgie's voice said.

Relief at hearing Georgie's voice filled Jane with a dizziness that rivaled anything the needles had done.

"I bet this is why she's still sick. We need to check for more," Sarah said. "Let's get this chain mail off."

Jane lost track of her body for a moment and when she returned to it, it felt much lighter.

"Here's one," Georgie said. "We should check under her tunic, too. Arms up, again, Janie."

Jane took that to mean that she'd lifted her arms in the first place, which was good. She wanted to be as helpful as possible. A cool breeze caressed her stomach and then her torso.

"Here's another one," Sarah said. "It was stuck under her tunic. You can put your arms down, Jane."

Jane lowered her arms as her vision returned. The forest was old; the trunks were thick and tall, and grew closely together. Bright green moss contrasted with the dark, wet wood and the emerald green leaves of the trees. She sat on moist soil that smell dank and clean at the same time.

Sarah was crouched in front of her, Georgie behind. Bear and Rufus stood at the top of a small hill, their backs turned.

Sarah moved to flick the needle into the trees, but Georgie caught Sarah by the wrist.

"No!" Georgie said. "Don't throw it away."

"Are you crazy?" Sarah asked, frowning.

"Maybe," Georgie said. "Here, give it to me."

Sarah dropped the needle into Georgie's hand. "Why do you want it?"

"It might come in handy," Georgie said.

Sarah helped Jane stand. Jane turned to see Georgie dropping the needle into a pouch that was strapped to her waist. "You kept the needles from the shadow attack?" Jane asked.

"I wondered why it took you so long to get out of the wagon," Sarah said.

Jane hadn't even noticed. Things had been so hazy. She flashed back to the moment between Bear and Kate. Watching them interact had felt intrusive.

Sarah shook out Jane's tunic. "The needles don't even have holes in them," she said. "I can't imagine what good they'd do you." She ran her fingers across the fabric, looking for more needles.

Georgie shrugged and retrieved the chain mail from the ground. "Oof, this is heavy. I can't believe Janie was able to move in this."

Sarah flushed. "The weight is distributed when you wear it." She looked at the garment critically before handing it to Jane. "I think we got them all. How are you feeling now?"

"Better," Jane said. She slipped the tunic back on, embarrassed that she'd caused so much fuss. She reached for the chain mail, but Sarah stopped her.

"You should probably keep that off for now," Sarah said. "I'm going to carry you on my back and that's just going to make you heavier."

"I don't need you to carry me," Jane said. "I feel much better."

"Oh, okay," Sarah said. She folded her arms and gestured toward the hill that Rufus and Bear were waiting on. "Go ahead."

Jane took a step and would have fallen again if Sarah hadn't reached out to catch her. Her legs felt heavy and mushy.

"Alright," Sarah said, firmly. She helped Jane regain her balance. "Georgie help her on." She turned her back and crouched.

George dropped the chain mail to the ground and helped Jane latch onto Sarah's back. Jane was surprised at out much effort it took to just loop her arms around Sarah's neck. Sarah gripped Jane's legs, rose from her crouch, and then bounced Jane up to a more comfortable position.

"Just leave it," Sarah said, as Georgie bent to pick up the mail.

"No!" Jane protested.

"It's useless," Sarah said harshly.

"Only against needles," Georgie said, brightly. She grunted as she picked up the mail and slung it over her shoulder. She started up the hill toward Bear and Rufus. "Seriously, Janie, this thing weighs a ton. How did you even wear this?"

"The weight is distributed much more evenly when you wear it," Jane said in a mock serious tone.

Sarah and Georgie laughed as Sarah followed Georgie up the hill. As they moved closer to Bear and Rufus, Jane noted that Rufus looked a lot better. The shadows under his eyes were deeper than usual but he was standing on his own. He seemed like the same solid old Rufus that Jane had known her whole life.

Bear nodded at the girls as they approached. "Georgie found us a path about a quarter of a mile that way," he said, pointing vaguely to the right. "Georgie, do you want to take the lead? Rufus'll follow, then Sarah and Jane, and I'll take up the rear."


Old Version:

I wonder where Bear is. He knew that I was slipping into darkness but he still walked away. It all comes crashing down onto me, into me, through me, turning everything dark. As dark as my heart. As dark as my father's.

I watch his eyes change color, warm and golden one second, and then he tilts his head and nothing shines there anymore. I shiver and start to cry. I look around for my mom and she scoops me up.

He scowls. He says something that I can't understand, and gestures toward me.

My mother answers. I feel the vibrations of her words as I bury my face into her neck. She speaks again. Her voice is soothing, I think for my benefit as well as my father's.

My father makes an abrupt noise. He isn't touching me but I can feel him trembling with rage. I tremble too, but out of fear. He speaks again, and then the door slams. I've heard that sound a lot lately. I've watched his eyes change a lot, too. And his voice. And his hands. He used to hold them open and I would run into them. Now they are always curled up and they scare me and then I run away.

The changes hurt. Not my skin, but inside. All the way inside.

I gasp. I try to sit up. I know I'm on a boat, but I can't wake myself up. The darkness has me. I've been running from it for thirteen years and it has finally caught up with me. I sink back into it.

I watch my mom put things in bags. A pot, a pan, a ladle, a large wooden bowl, and then three small ones. That's a bag. Books in another. Clothes in another. I've stopped crying. I'm just watching. She has forgotten I am here. I make a noise, just to make her look over. She does. She smiles, filling my whole body with light and warmth.

The door makes noise again and I look over. It's Farmer Clarence poking his head in. My mom says something and then he does. I look back and forth between the two of them. He spots me and wriggles his eyebrows, which always makes me giggle. He smiles, but only for a second. His face is mostly serious. He takes the bags from my mom and turns to leave. He stops and turns back. He drops the bags and says something to my mom. He steps quickly away from the door and my mom kicks the bags to the side and slams the door shut.

Before she does, I see my father push Farmer Clarence down and then head toward the door. My mother slams a bar down across the back of the door, and turns to me. She flinches as a thud hits the door hard enough to shake the whole house. My mother's eyes are wide, but determined as she bears down on me. She picks me up and pulls the rug I'm sitting on aside.

She pulls up a hatch and carries me down the stairs, letting the hatch fall closed behind her, and shutting out all of the light. There are some noises that I can't decipher, and then we're moving through the darkness. I can hear my mother's breathing. Her heart pounding.

My pounds too, and my eyes fill up with tears. My father, before the door slammed in his face -- it wasn't just his eyes that had changed, it was his whole face.

"I need you to be calm right now," my mother whispers to me. "I need you to be calm and I need you to be quiet."

Parents around the village often remark upon the first words their child ever spoke, but these were the first I remember hearing. At four years old, I knew the easy stuff like, "hungry" and "cold" and "bucket", but there were so many more words I didn't know than words I knew, and the world often seemed like a jumble of all of them.

"I need you to be calm," is the first sentence full of words I didn't know but that I understood. The world expanded that day, even as it shrank down to that moment. In the dark, earth under my palms, my mother above. She urged me forward and we crawled until I could feel air again.

Then she picked me up and we ran. We used her legs but we both ran. Some part of me splintered off. The good part, I think. We ran and ran and ran and then my mother fell. She rolled onto her side so that I wouldn't hit the ground first, and we skidded to a stop.

Even though we'd stopped, I could still hear running, feet moving and crackling against the dry leaves that carpeted the forest. My mother gathered me up and pulled me against the bark of a large tree. Tree. That was another word that I could say. But I didn't.

The running sound ran past us, breathing just as loudly as my mother was. Louder. It ran past more trees until I could barely hear it, and then it stopped. It bellowed -- a long, loud roar full of rage and frustration. I recognized it as whatever it was that my father turned into. "Ophelia!" he shouts. "I was just going to kill her but now I'm going to kill both of you!"

More running runs past us and I close my eyes, feeling my heart shiver in my chest. He's everywhere. How can we escape him if he's everywhere?

But then I hear Farmer Clarence. "John," he says. That's another word I know. That's what my mom calls my dad.

My father answers Farmer Clarence but once again, the ignorance of toddlerhood washes out the meaning of his words. It doesn't sound good, though, and finally, lots of short, loud noises stop him from talking. 

***

My face is wet with remembered tears, as the darkness' fingers release me from my memory. The mountains have pulled back, letting a larger slice of the sky show through.

Clouds roll in, dark and fast. Thunder rolls. Lightning strikes the mountain nearest us, setting a tree on fire, but the fire is immediately quenched by the downpour. I stand up and see turn. Pirates flood out from under the deck and set to work under shouted instructions from Captain Nancy.

I am going to be in the way, so I make my way to the ladder that goes below deck, making sure to stay out of the pirates' ways. I step down as quickly as possible. An older pirate, slim but muscled with a stern face, probably even on her best day, heads toward the stairs but she stops when she sees me.

"I'm a person short," she says. "I was going to grab someone from up there, but do you want to shoot some cannonballs at some merceneries?"

I can't think of anything I'd rather do. I nod, and she flashes me a grin. I follow her to a set of three cannons. They are spaced out about two feet away from each other. There is a pirate prying the lid off of a barrel of gunpowder. She looks up as we approach.

The pirate who recruited me holds a hand out. "Nora," she says.

"Janie," I say, and shake it.

"Nicole," the other pirate says. I shake her hand, too.

There are about a hundred cannonballs stacked up against the opposite wall. What looks like a ladle handle sticks out of the black powder. "Alright," Nora says. She points to me. "You take a scoop of that powder and toss it into the barrel. You," she says, pointing at Nora, "load the cannonballs, and I'll be standing by to aim and light them as soon as they're loaded."

She picks up the ladle and shakes it off untl the powder is essentially level. She steps toward the leftmost cannon and sticks the ladle inside and turns the handle, dumping the powder. She does the same thing for the middle and rightmost cannons. While she's moving toward the barrel, Nora load the cannons.

Nicole hands me the ladle, and then moves over to the leftmost cannon, aiming each of them. Nora steps back and indicates that I should join her. I do. Nicole lights each of the short fuses with a small torch, and then re-hangs it on the wall above the balls. She and Nora cover their ears, so I do too. It doesn't help much.

The blast nearly knocks me off of my feet. As I recover my footing, Nicole shouts something that I can't hear. She points toward the barrel.

I nod and move toward the gunpowder, carefully ladelling gunpowder into each cannon as Nora loads them and Nicole aims them. We all stand back, and cover our ears. I'm surprised that it's worse the second time. Louder, rougher, smokier. I cough, and see Nicole shouting at me again. I nod and move toward the barrel. I ladle out the gunpowder, Nora loads the cannons, Nicole aims and lights. It's worse the third time. And the fourth and the fifth. After that, I lose track of how many cannonballs we've shot.

It's nearly pitch black, but my feet know where the barrel is and I move toward them, but Nicole stops me. She takes the ladle and shoves me. "We're done," I think I hear her shout. She shoves me again, and I let her shoves guide me to the ladder. The air clears the further we move from the cannons, but I'm still coughing. I've been coughing for a while.

***

Nora is already halfway up the ladder. I follow her into the pouring rain, still coughing, but grateful for the fresh air. The water is rough and hard enough against the hull to splash onto the deck.

Nicole closes the hatch to the below decks. "Bail out!" she shouts.

It takes a moment to register what she's saying, but when she moves toward the rail and grabs a bucket, I get it. Nora and I move to the rail, too. We each grab a bucket.

 We start bailing out. The water isn't too bad, probably about a quarter of a foot, but enough to make the pirates' footing very slippery. Water keeps splashing over the sides, making it a neverending job, but eventually, we have it down pretty well.

Nicole starts stacking sandbags against the railing. Nora and I move to help. My arms are dying, and legs are trembling with fatigue, but I don't stop moving. I can't. If I stop, I'll think about the merceneries, I might have just helped kill, and those thoughts will lead me to others.

I still haven't quite shaken off the darkness, as Bear called it. I'm afraid of thinking, so I just think about sandbags until there are none left and then I collapse.

***

Nicole and Nora drag me below deck and back to the captain's cabin. I'm shivering with the rain and cold and with terror and fatigue. "It'll be alright," Nicole says. She's still shouting, but that's okay because I can barely hear her. She and Nora strip my wet clothes off and toss a dry nightgown over me. They dump me roughly into the hammock.

Nicole's rough face softens the tiniest bit as she pats my arm. "You did good! Get some rest."

They've wrung out my underwear and the captain's clothes and hung them over the chair and on pegs around the room. The captain's coat is hanging ont the back of the door.

With shaking limbs, I climb out of the hammock and make my way over to the coat. I start coughing again. I find the book inside. It seems impossible, but the captain's pockets were so deep that the book is barely even damp, and only at the edges.

I climb back up into the hammock and let the warmth of the room seep back into my limbs, and wait for my coughing to subside.

I can hear Bear coming, the golden music glinting off of his horn. I turn over. I can't talk to him right now, explain what I just did. he'll know that I'm not really asleep, but he'll play along. There's a soft knock and then I hear the handle turn.

"Janie?" Bear says.

I don't answer, guilt at ignoring him sqeezing my insides. I suppress a cough I hear him put something down on the desk, and then I feel a blanket sweeping over me. Bear pats my wet braids. "Get some sleep," he says gently. "We'll talk in the morning."

The door clicks shut behind him. I sigh and sit up. I can't go to sleep with wet hair. I squeeze my braids out but they're soaked. I start unbraiding them, coughing intermittently. I should sleep. I should read. I don't, I just unbraid, squeezing each braid carefully before undoing the threads that sew the ends of my braids together. I drop the threads onto the floor as I go. My arms ache but I don't care. I'd rather focus on the outside pain than the inside pain.

We just shot a hundred cannonballs at unarmed ships, ships that were either rented from or stolen from fishermen. What if someone died? I picture honest ship captains at their helms, watching their livelihoods sink underneath them, honest sailors bailing out frantically. Merceneries cursing, slashing, and killing the sailors out of anger at being thwarted. I picture merceneries getting their faces smashed in by cannonballs, hear the crunch of their bones, the squish of their brains. I feel sick. I wish Bear hadn't brought me all of those anatomy books.

I focus on my trembling fingers. It's much better not to think.

At last, I'm done. My arms are too weak to even comb it out, but my hair is mostly dry now, at least.

I lay back and rest the book on my stomach, willing myself to open it.

***

Instead, my mind drifts to sunlight. Afternoons spent lying on the grass, finding shapes in the clouds with Sarah and Hans. Birds overhead flit in and out of the clouds. The air is cool, the sun is warm, the grass is dewy, the flowers staring sweetly and blankly into nothing. 

"What do you think they think about?" I ask Sarah drowsily. We're all lying, our feet in different directions, head together, like spokes of a wheel.

"What?" Sarah asks.

"The flowers. What do you think they think about?"

"I can tell you," Hans says, reaching out to stroke a daisy that grew between us.

Sarah and I exchange glances and giggle.

"There once was a flower that grew in a glade, much like this," Hans said, his voice soft and lilting.

 "One day, he looked around and wondered why some of the flowers had grown so much taller than him. "Excuse me," the flower said to the tallest flower in the glade.

The other flower, lost in her own thoughts, in the sun on her petals, arms reaching toward the sky, didn't hear the little flower at first, but when he finally got her attention, she looked down. "Yes," she asked. "How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to bother you," the little flower said politely. "I was just wondering why all of us flowers were born around the same time, but some are so much taller than others. For instance," the flower said, gesturing toward the flowers immediately surrounding him. "Why are these flowers so much shorter than me, but you are so much taller?"

The tallest flower looked down, amused. "Why, it's because the flowers surrounding you aren't flowers, they are grass. And I am not a flower. I am a tree. We grow to different sizes because we are different things."

"Ah, I see," the little flower said. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Certainly," the tree said.

"Why am I stuck in one place, but other flowers get to scamper and fly?" he asked, gesturing to two other flowers that blossomed in the same glade.

"That is a squirrel, and that is a bird," the tree answered, patiently. "Those aren't flowers either."

"Ah, I see," the little flower said, feeling foolish for assuming that everything he saw was some sort of a flower. "I just have one more question," he said.

"Yes?" the tree said. She was glad to answer the flower's questions, but she'd be even happier to go back to worshipping the sun.

"You're a tree and you have all of this lovely bark to protect you. That is a squirrel and he has very sharp teeth to protect him. The bird can fly away from predators. I have neither bark not teeth nor wings. Yet we were all seedlings together, and have all survived for the same amount of time and I have none of the same protection. How is that possible?"

The tree thought for a moment, and finally said, "Sometimes the bravest thing one can do is live without armor. Sometimes, the only thing you have to protect you is cour--" The tree was cut off. Her conversation with the little flower had distracted her from the discomfort in her trunk as a man with a saw had been cutting through her. Now, she fell over, dying. She landed on the flower and crushed it to death with her branches.

"The squirrel watched all of this happening, and shook his head. "Dumb squirrels should have just run away," he said to himself and then scampered off.

Sarah and I scream at Hans' abrupt ending and we jump up and started chasing him around the glade. We chase him because he surprised us and made us laugh and because our legs wouldn't let us do anything else.

***

I wake up screaming. I feel Bear's hands on my shoulders but all I can see is people dying. Imogene and the farmers, the people at the king's party, villagers I've known since birth, Hans, Sarah, my mother, all of their faces contorted in pain.

Bear's voice breaks through the screaming. "Janie, it's okay. It's okay." He pulls me out of the pirate's hammock and wraps his arms around me.

The images of death fade away, and I blink, focusing on the desk, the chair, the coat hanging on the back of the door, the floor, anything but the images in my mind. I think I stop screaming as Bear brings me down to the floor with him. 

I sink back against Bear and let his smell take me back to his forest glade. No matter where we go, Bear always smells like a meadow. He rests his chin on the top of my head and makes shushing noises. My heartbeat calms and my breathing evens out.

"What happened?" I ask, still trembling.

"You were having a nightmare," Bear says.

I remember Hans telling Sarah and I a story when we were kids. Then, I don't know. Then all of the sudden the world was on fire.

"My mom," I say, my heartbeat kicking up again. I try to pull away from Bear.

"She's fine," he says.

"No," I say, crying. "Sarah and Hans --" the door opens, and Sarah pokes her head in. Her clothes are dry but her hair is damp. Her expression is concerned. "Everything okay in here?"

I know that I'm relieved to see her but somehow, seeing that she's okay only livens the fear of losing her. I make a keening noise. Sarah comes in and closes the door behind her. She's not wearing any shoes. She must have been sleeping in the crew's quarters and heard me screaming. I feel guilty for waking her. She sits down in front of me.

I wrap my arms around her and cry into her dreds. It's okay, I think. They're already wet. I cry out all of my fears for her and Hans and my mother and the farmers and Imogene and -- everyone. I can feel her crying, too.

Every time I think I have no tears left, a new flood begins. I lean back against Bear, exhausted, but empty of all of stress I've been carrying around for the past week. I feel lighter and heavier at the same time. Sarah reaches up and pulls the blanket down from the hammock. She covers herself and me with it.

I don't think I sleep, at least I don't dream. For a moment, I just am. We are. Together.

My arms and legs start to cramp up and Sarah stirs. She turns and kisses me on the cheek. "I'm going to try and get some sleep before morning," she says quietly. She leaves, closing the door behind her.

I pull away from Bear, certain that he has to be tired of taking care of me, too. I turn to look at him. He smiles. Black threads from my braids are scattered across the floor. I pick one up and fidget with it. "I'm sorry, I say. I haven't spoken in a while and the attempt brings up the cough from breathing in the cannon smoke. After the spasm passes, Bear says, "I can fix that."

"What?" I ask. "My cough?"

He nods. I search his face, watching for a lie, even though he doesn't lie to me. "Will it hurt you?"

Bear grins. "No."

I nod, and he bows his head, touching the tip of his horn to my forehead. Coolness flows through me, like a spring breeze, soothing my throat, easing my aching muscles, even releasing a headache that has been throbbing at the base of my neck for so long that I didn't realize it was there. I breathe deeply, for the first time since James Anthony Sawyer relieved me from my fate. I sigh and look up at him with eyes that don't feel tight or painful. "Thank you," I say. I lower my head, playing with the thread.

"What is it?" he asks.

Of course he knows when I'm holding back. "I was just wondering if you could do that for my mind," I say, embarrassed. "I keep having these visions of things that haven't happened, but they're so vivid--" I cut myself off. A tear falls from my eye and lands on the black thread that I'm fiddling with.

Bear sighs. "I can't."

I can hear the regret in his voice and I nod. "I don't want to sound ungrateful," I say.

His laugh is a short snort. "You don't."

I don't look into his eyes very often. I find the experience too intense. But I look up, and into his eyes, and the screaming in my mind quietens. I can see so much of of him in his eyes, all of the things that he never says, all of the parts of him he never shows me, but that I can sense. In this moment, I love him so much that it feels like part of my heart hardens into a rock, but at the same time, it explodes open. I drop the thread and fling my arms around him.

He catches me with another short laugh and hugs me back. We squeeze each other tight. I know exactly why I love him so much but I can't figure out why he seems to love me back. I'm grateful, but I have to pull away eventually. He lets me.

I stand up on legs that don't hurt for the first time in days. Even though he couldn't clear my mind from the dark visions, they've subsided to the back of my mind. "I'm not tired anymore," I say.

Bear grins. "Let's go find Captain Nancy."

***

Captain Nancy is at the helm, as usual. I wonder when she has the time to sleep. I haven't seen her step away from the helm since I came on board. Then again, I've spent a lot of that time unconscious myself.

She greets Bear and I with a tired nod, and a satisfied smile. "Between the rocks and the cannonballs, those ships didn't stand a chance."

I flash to drowning sailors again, but push the image back. Captain Nancy nods toward the sky. Bear and I follow her gaze. The sky is lightening into day, but the moon is still up. The red moon. My heartbeat kicks up. The rain had been so rough that I hadn't even thought to look at the sky. I'd missed the first night of the red moons.