The boards of the ship creaked as I went below deck, each step squeaking like a geist. The world gently rocked, imperceptible to my eyes but noticeable with each automatic adjustment my body made to stay upright. The waves rocked the boat gently, the open ocean surprisingly calm like the waters of the Mari Auzeous.

  “Uncadia! I brought you dinner!”

  She didn’t reply, not immediately at least. Her hands kept fiddling with her own wrists, smoothing out the cinched feathers. However, they were weightless and free, no more iron binding them. Finally, her beak lifted up, her wing-feathers rustling as they spread. “Do you know how long we’ve been sailing?”

  “Roughly a month.”

  “Twenty seven days. We…” A sheepish ugh escaped her, “We might make it.”   “Our navigator’s been doing a splendid job at keeping us straight south.” With my mind drifting to our navigator, I added on, “He’s charting a map as well. Saying he can use this ship’s speed to make a rough estimate on how far your nds are.”

  “The Ru-” She stopped herself, just shy of giving me an unknown term with no meaning. Instead, she gave me another one. “The ‘foxes’ say the trip is seventy ‘esken.’”

  “What’s an esken?”

  “A distance, like your leagues.” Her face stared back down at the ground. Her taloned feet tapped against the wood, the sound dull in the lower area. It didn’t echo, crates and barrels carrying a whole manner of supplies brought along. Still downturned, she said, “I don’t really know what that is in leagues though. I only know it takes around fifty days to travel.”

  “Maybe I can have our navigator calcute it. He’s a polymath, you know. I can say Eitecus made a good choice when he first brought him aboard.” I sat down beside her, giving her a tray of food. I had my own, a higher quality than what she had. Hers was almost completely grain, but with a tear of salted meat from my tray, we both had some good food.

  “Is he like you?”

  “Hmm? In what way?”

  “Kind. That sort of way.” She took the chance to eat a bit, my eyes following along to her beak. It opened up to speak and devour, like any other mouth. Yet, it was as though a human’s inner-mouth had been pushed outwards, the cheeks extending along with it. With each bite or word, the lips spread out far, making the cheeks split open. Perhaps above it all, it was the way she used far too human hands to bring the food up to her far too nonhuman face. So natural and familiar, yet odd and alien.

  “I’ve never got his opinion,” I answered truthfully. There hadn’t been any reason to bring it up in our brief conversations.

  “Oh. I suppose that makes sense.” Her shoulders slumped then, her gaze resettling upon the food. The sound of scrabbling food against the metal filled the air, mingling with the faint sounds above deck. The soft sway of the ship, the muffled yelling above, and the faint warbling of waves bobbing against the hardwood were all that filled the silence.

  Then the yells grew, transforming into commands. My head snapped up to the commotion brewing, quickly looking back at Uncadia. “I’ll be back.” I bolted up, Uncadia following despite the rules.

  The men were scrambling about, the ship slowly turning. “With the wind! With the wind!” While Eitecus bellowed out orders, others who found themselves with a ck of work picked up their weapons. A few halberdiers were picked up. That one twentieth share was slowly dwindling.

  The boat turned to the south-east, my feet thumping against the wooden deck. My hands gripped the smooth railing, peering off into the distance. The scent of the ocean was thick, salt mingling with that strange avian smell from Uncadia. Following in my shadow, we saw nine ships from over the horizon. Her beak curved into a smile, her words excited despite being breathed out. “The ships of my kin!”

  Then, fate rearing its ugly head, stole that look. Her eyes deepened and her face frowned. Her mind started to work, her voice still hardly a whisper. “If they’re heading west, then we’re fighting the current.” Suddenly, her talons dug into my tunic, nearly ripping rge holes into it. “We have to go west! Fight the winds, not the currents! You have to tell the captain!”

  “Hold on, Uncadia,” I began, bringing my hands up to pry her hands off of me. Gentleness was attempted, yet her grip was firmer than expected. Her fingers came off with a bit of a wretch, but she her expression never loosened. Her palms were scaly yet cking the same quality as lizards while her feathers were a bit rough from a ck of care. “What is going on, and what do I need to tell him?”

  She took a shaky breath in, her exhale barely better. Her fingers rexed a bit before she spoke again. “This is a shipping route, going along with the ocean’s waves. We need to veer off to the south-west, or else they’ll cut us off.”

  With a nod, I strode along to Eitecus. He flurried around the boat, going to and fro ensuring nothing was out of pce. Suddenly, he turned around, his face nearly grazing mine. “Ah! Cortico! Just the man I want to see!” His hand shot out to point at Uncadia. A foot of his tapped a specific rhythm against the ground, each one a dull thud. “That Foltian knows these waters better than us. Get something out of her.”

  “Wouldn’t you know it, I already have.”

  “Then get on with!”

  “She said we’re on a shipping route. The water here runs from east to west.” I made a motion with my hand, pcing it away at ‘east’ and then bringing it in at ‘west.’ “They’ll catch up to us and cut us off if we don’t move with the current. She said they’re avians as well, so they might try to fly over if we get too close.”

  “He did mention that,” Eitecus mused to himself, scratching at his clean chin. He made a quick gce to the nine ships over port side. From near the middle of the ship, the boats on the horizon were almost obscured by the webs of ropes controlling the sails. With sudden urgency, he waved his arms to the air. “Turn west! With the current!”

  They scrambled about again, but did so with purpose. If they had outrun storms before, then they could outrun beasts. The man at the helm worked the whipstaff, the rudder fighting against the ocean. The vessel cut through the waters, slowly steering until the pursuing ships disappeared behind the stern of the boat. Men began to furl the sails, at least until the headwinds turned west.

  A bell started to ring on ship, a meticulous watch kept on the time despite the situation. Eitecus began to turn towards his quarters while a man from above climbed down from the ropes. He plopped down for the st few ‘brins, a hollow thud coming from the wood as he bent his knees. “Cortico! You’re up.” His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Uncadia. “And get that beast below deck where it belongs.”

  With a point, Uncadia hung her head low and headed back, nothing more than living cargo to most. Meanwhile, I took to the ropes swung around light taut jungle vines. It went wide at the bottom, tightening as it neared the lookout. Climbing was easier than it looked from an outside perspective, the mast needing the rigging ropes to be stable unless it snapped and careened into its own base.

  Turning the boat took time, time which the ships in the distance did not let waste away. They loomed, lurching closer and closer over the horizon. Yet, for all of our efforts, they stayed that way. Riding the same current, our ships remained at a standstill on the open ocean. The only difference came from our course bearing us south-west, while theirs went directly west.

  The first bells rung, only twice. Thirty minutes had passed. The ships were close, but barely nearer than they had been before. The second bells rung, twice again. Another thirty minutes and another few tabrins closer. The cycle continued until the bells rang for their eighth time, four hours passing. Our course hadn’t changed, but it was time for me to crawl back down the tangle of ropes.

  Night soon followed day, the sun setting beneath the western horizon the same as it had every other day. The crescent moon was accompanied by billions of stars far away, the twin tails of white nearly drowned out by the purple and red nebu above. Normally so faint under the sun’s radiance, it came to full bloom like a nighttime flower during the dark.

  The soul felt a certain, unexpinable feeling to stare up at the sky with nothing but the gentle, rocking waves completely bck against the colorful sky. A constant, unmoving tapestry came to bless any man that dared to stay up to the te hours. It was painted with meticulous care, not one star out of pce.

  However, its greatest beauty and tragedy was knowing it was soon to be lost. By the time the eastern edge of the world started to move with a red haze, the starts flickered out one by one. Soon, all were gone until only the nebu remained as an almost unnoticeable reminder of what would return.

  When the sun rose over the barren sea, a lookout cried, “Seven ships from over the horizon! Two Foltian ships have split off to give chase!” The men dredged up from their mats as the bells rung loud and proud. A hundred aching feet stormed up into the top deck to rest their hands on the sleek, polished railing to peer at the coming storm.

  Just as said from the watchman, two Foltian ships had broken off and headed in our direction. Bnketed by the red glow of dawn from the horizon, a good deal of ships entered. From our point on the ship, it was hard to distinguish them, but I trusted seven. Uncadia’s talons tapped against the wood, her voice lower than even a whisper. “Those are foxes. We can not let them take us.” Unlike with the sighting of her kin, her voice sounded more akin to having just witnessed a murder.

  “What’s so bad about foxes?” My tone was casual, if hushed.

  She turned, those talons digging into the sides of my shoulders instead. “They hate all men, human males their penultimate enemy.” Ironic. I had never heard of our main rivals until that moment. We treated a female fox no differently than those odd swine taken from the continent. All beasts were equal in bondage.

  Her voice grew louder with desperation, the man to my right raising an eyebrow as he stared at Uncadia. “If we do not manage to pass them, then we cannot be capture by them. They’ll beat you, whip you, brand you, and if they do not find you pleasing, they’ll sy you with giggling indifference like a child stomping ants beneath his feet.” Her eyes were blown wide into rge globes, almost looking like her true-bird kin.

  “Shhh, it’s alright, just keep your tone down,” I calmed, pcing my hands onto her shoulders as well. Her clothes felt like heavy wool, just another thing to weigh her down from ever flying off. “You’ll have to go below deck again. People are waking up.”

  “Before I go,” She began, her grip sckening on me, “Tell them that the currents are sure to change towards the east very soon. These caravans tend to near the switch. We’ll stall if we aren’t ready.” I gave her a single, understanding nod. With nothing more to say, she fled back down, her wings spread a bit as she bound away.

  Thus, the waiting game began.