<7> The first mate flinched as he stood as well. His gaze lingered on her until she disappeared among the large trees beyond the beach, and with a helpless shrug he began to sift through the debris of their prized ship. From what he could tell, the stern and the back half of the ship had carried them to the island, but that half of the hull had been mostly made up of living quarters and bunk beds. The beds had been empty while the crew had done their best to keep the ship together, and only a single crate of their cargo seemed to have survived after nearly an hour of scrounging among the wet sand and shallow water. Inside, all but a smattering of bottles of various alcohol had been left un-waterlogged. Jexon growled in frustration as he headed further along the beach to finally catch sight of Carl. “Boy!” he called. “Captain wants us inland. Report?” Carl sighed in frustration as he dropped a half-splintered hunk of wood. Among the wreckage he’d apparently acquired enough seaweed for a belt-like loincloth. His incessant itching around his nethers, however, betrayed the effectiveness, or lack thereof, of the natural cover. “No goods, no bodies, nothing of value.” Any formality in the cabin boy’s voice had fled, replaced by sheer exhaustion. “And what’s she want? To give more orders?” Jexon’s eyes narrowed. “Easy, boy. The ship that just got obliterated wasn’t [i]yours[/i], mind you.” “Well that doesn’t mean I should be getting the damn shaft at every corner!” the warlock snapped angrily. Jexon bared his teeth and growled menacingly. “I will warn you only once,” he rumbled with surprising, deathly calm. “Thora’s appetite, when it rears its head, can be [i]insatiable[/i]. If you give her reason, she will not be above making you her first meal on this island.” His words did not alleviate Carl’s pain, but it did take the edge from his anger a bit. “Whatever you say, I guess.” The worgen grew a bit calmer as well. “Now, you are certain you’ve found nothing?” Carl nodded. “Not even a hair.” “Good, I guess. No dead bodies means more chance that the crew could’ve survived… although rather unlikely. At least they won’t have to starve or compete for resources.” Jexon crossed his arms over his chest as he looked out to the sea, then back inland where a number of palm fronds shuddered and were ripped from their branches by a furious beast of a woman. “Well… grab some of the drier wood and let’s go. If she finds food, she won’t save us any.” The warlock shrugged helplessly and followed the yet-naked worgen inland. The palm trees were much larger than they’d looked from the water’s edge, though a few of the outermost trees had been completely stripped of their fronds. Beyond the outer rim of bare trees, the not-so-frondless trees offered welcoming shade to Carl’s sun-baked skin, and he couldn’t deny a bit of relief as the sight of a makeshift shelter came into view at the edge of a small clearing. Palm fronds had been organized into a decent-looking hut, and a ring of rocks was already filled with collected debris to dry. Nonetheless, Carl plopped his wood into the rock hole as he eyed the shelter. “She’s been busy.” “It’s what she does during a crisis,” Jexon admitted with a sigh. “Work.” “Just like you two should be!” barked a familiar, feminine rumble. The captain marched proudly into the campsite as she dumped a massive cluster of coconuts onto the ground next to the shelter. Thora almost looked as if she’d lived there for much longer than an hour. A series of long frond blades had been woven into makeshift strings that tied two cut halves of a coconut together, though they only just barely granted her otherwise-naked chest any semblance of modesty. Another series of thick fronds were also woven together to form a knee-length grass skirt. Her deep gray mane was matted with sweat (though it was clear she was struggling to keep her tongue back from panting), but all in all she looked as imposing as ever of a captain. “Any news?” Jexon straightened his posture formally. “No sign of life, or death, at all. Just some booze on the beach.” Thora looked menacingly at her brother. “You didn’t bring it?” The first mate crossed his arms over his chest. “Should I have?” She kept quiet for a few seconds. “No, but [i]he[/i] should have,” she growled and looked over to Carl. “Go, boy!” Carl opened his mouth to protest, but Jexon quickly looked at him, not with anger, but with desperation. For the first time, Carl began to understand that the first mate was at least trying to look out for him, rather than demean him. “Yes, captain,” he responded respectfully before turning away, [i]again[/i] and was soon a speck on the beach. Thora’s fur bristled as she watched the cabin boy leave, but after a bit she seemed to relax a little more. “Ugh… I could use a drink right about now.” “I’m sure,” Jexon rumbled and walked to his sister. “Which is exactly why I left it.” The look in her eyes turned pitiful, and with a sigh she leaned herself back against the nearest tree. “Sorry… I just….” Jexon kept quiet as he stepped forward and embraced his sister. His muzzle pressed gently to her neck as he pinned her to his bare chest lovingly. “A little tonight, then we ration the rest. Last thing you need is to lose water.” “I know,” she returned with resignation. Her own arms slowly rose to return his tender hug. “We can last on coconut milk for a few days until we have enough seawater boiled,” she mumbled into his fur. “I’m not worried about that,” he returned and squeezed her tighter. “I’m worried about [i]you[/i]. I know you well, and you overcompensate when you’re upset.”