Woodborn by Heather Nix

Author:Heather Nix [Nix, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922936073
Amazon: 1922936073
Publisher: Pacific Publications
Published: 2023-01-20T23:00:00+00:00

I make my way back to my bunk, swaying a bit on my feet. The evening’s grog has left me with a heady buzz just on this side of comfortable. For the first time, I feel a bit of lightness in my soul. The weight of my loss had pulled me down so low that feeling the tension ease is revelatory. The meals we have shared since the raid have been amazing, and the company has felt like family. Everything from Ballad’s silly hats to my little haven in the crow’s nest has given me a reason to smile since joining this ship. I miss Ceci, but she doesn’t consume my every thought like she did when I arrived. I have begun to walk the path toward a future, and though it will be a long journey, I can see the light of a life well-lived shining at the end.

My hammock is swinging to and fro as I reach it, and I shake my head, thinking perhaps the grog has hit me harder than I thought. But it isn’t the grog, and it isn’t the sea. It’s Tuii, comfortably settled in my hammock, reading one of my books with a soft smirk on her angular features.

“Tuii,” I begin, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought perhaps we could spend some time together,” she says. “You’re our newest, and I make it a point to know this crew. Join me? I may have a place you haven’t yet found.” She waggles a green glass bottle at me with a conspiratorial smile. “I have libations.”

Her voice has a melodic lilt to it. I don’t know much about Tuii, but her upturned eyes with their thick midnight lashes, and that faint cadence to her voice, allude to an origin outside Idythia. She’s often been part of the crowd when the crew gets together in the evenings, but we haven’t spent any time together alone. I hold out a hand to help her out of my hammock and she takes it, her slender fingers warm and dry. She keeps ahold of my hand as she weaves her way through the ship, light-footed as a cat. She moves with a grace born of years of training, her skill with a blade unrivaled. Unlike me, she doesn’t have the bulk of muscle; she is lithe and slim, coming barely to my shoulder. Her inky black hair is usually pulled back into a tight plait, but tonight it is free, shining in the starlight. She stops before a small ladder I have never noticed near the back of the ship, leading down toward the captain’s quarters. At the bottom is a narrow alcove, tucked where two walls meet. The space is small, barely large enough to accommodate the two of us side by side, but this entire area is blocked from view by a wall and the ladder. It’s like a secret room in a ship with very few secrets.

“This is where I come when I’d like to be alone,” she says in a low voice.

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