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Description
Kenet found himself unceremoniously brought to the captain’s quarters by Will, the captain was bent over a map at his desk with another of the crew standing by his side. A fire burned in the hearth near the desk, a lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling and swung gently as the ship rocked on the waves. Along one wall was the captain’s bed and a nightstand, at the foot was a heavy seaman’s trunk with an enchanted lock on it. A sword lay on the bed, sheathed but at the ready for use if needed, the whetstone for sharpening it set on top of the nightstand as if the owner was planning on checking the blade in the near future.

The second man looked up, it was the first mate that had used his magic to bend the cell bars. His sandy hair had been ruffled by the wind and stood up at odd angles, a few locks fell into sea green eyes as he studied the prisoner. His left eye had a long scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. “Thought you wanted to kidnap the prisoners, not raid the infirmary,” he commented in the slightly raspy voice of a westerner. “Look at him, not even enough meat on his bones to feed a minnow.”

“Jon, leave him be,” Will said with a sigh, tired of the man’s nearly constant teasing. “He’s been through enough as it is.”

“Oh, look at you, Snowbird, making friends with the prisoners before we sell them at the next port. How moral of you,” came the sarcastic reply as he used his crewmate’s nickname. “If Bloody Jack’s crew fled from him, what makes you think they won’t jump ship here?”

The captain cleared his throat as he stood, interrupting the two men, and came around the desk to take a closer look at the red-haired man. The captive was dressed in rags, his shirt torn and stained with blood, his pants worn to nearly being threadbare with rope for a belt, his feet bare. A well-worn piece of leather cord hung around his neck, disappearing somewhere beneath his shirt. Scars, bruising, and injuries in various states of healing covered his body, a few were still bleeding.

Kenet stared at the smooth planks of the floor, seeing nothing but the captain’s boots as he walked around him. The silent examination was unnerving, he flinched when his shirt was lifted for the man to examine his back and the freshly bleeding cuts. Strangely, the boots were small for a man, much smaller than his own; they came to a stop right in front of him, making his heart pound against his ribs. Warm fingers slid beneath his chin and lifted, forcing him to raise his head to look at…

A feminine face came into view, her eyes studying him carefully as her dark eyes met his reddish ones. Brown hair was tied into a braid that hung neatly down her back, her clothes were rumpled by the wind and splashed with blood from the fight, and a bruise had already started to form on one cheekbone. Her hands were calloused from work, but were gentle as she touched him.

“What do you make of him?” Will asked. “Besides the fact that he’s had the hell beat out of him a few times.”

“Unusual features,” she mused. “Rare truly.”

“Probably worth a pretty coin,” Jon added. “With looks like that, anyone would be willing to ignore his pathetic condition.”

Description
Kenet found himself unceremoniously brought to the captain’s quarters by Will, the captain was bent over a map at his desk with another of the crew standing by his side. A fire burned in the hearth near the desk, a lantern hung from a hook in the ceiling and swung gently as the ship rocked on the waves. Along one wall was the captain’s bed and a nightstand, at the foot was a heavy seaman’s trunk with an enchanted lock on it. A sword lay on the bed, sheathed but at the ready for use if needed, the whetstone for sharpening it set on top of the nightstand as if the owner was planning on checking the blade in the near future.

The second man looked up, it was the first mate that had used his magic to bend the cell bars. His sandy hair had been ruffled by the wind and stood up at odd angles, a few locks fell into sea green eyes as he studied the prisoner. His left eye had a long scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. “Thought you wanted to kidnap the prisoners, not raid the infirmary,” he commented in the slightly raspy voice of a westerner. “Look at him, not even enough meat on his bones to feed a minnow.”

“Jon, leave him be,” Will said with a sigh, tired of the man’s nearly constant teasing. “He’s been through enough as it is.”

“Oh, look at you, Snowbird, making friends with the prisoners before we sell them at the next port. How moral of you,” came the sarcastic reply as he used his crewmate’s nickname. “If Bloody Jack’s crew fled from him, what makes you think they won’t jump ship here?”

The captain cleared his throat as he stood, interrupting the two men, and came around the desk to take a closer look at the red-haired man. The captive was dressed in rags, his shirt torn and stained with blood, his pants worn to nearly being threadbare with rope for a belt, his feet bare. A well-worn piece of leather cord hung around his neck, disappearing somewhere beneath his shirt. Scars, bruising, and injuries in various states of healing covered his body, a few were still bleeding.

Kenet stared at the smooth planks of the floor, seeing nothing but the captain’s boots as he walked around him. The silent examination was unnerving, he flinched when his shirt was lifted for the man to examine his back and the freshly bleeding cuts. Strangely, the boots were small for a man, much smaller than his own; they came to a stop right in front of him, making his heart pound against his ribs. Warm fingers slid beneath his chin and lifted, forcing him to raise his head to look at…

A feminine face came into view, her eyes studying him carefully as her dark eyes met his reddish ones. Brown hair was tied into a braid that hung neatly down her back, her clothes were rumpled by the wind and splashed with blood from the fight, and a bruise had already started to form on one cheekbone. Her hands were calloused from work, but were gentle as she touched him.

“What do you make of him?” Will asked. “Besides the fact that he’s had the hell beat out of him a few times.”

“Unusual features,” she mused. “Rare truly.”

“Probably worth a pretty coin,” Jon added. “With looks like that, anyone would be willing to ignore his pathetic condition.”