One particularly harsh night, most of the men gathered beneath the deck seeking refuge from the rain and lightning. Only the necessary crew remained above deck. I sat on the edge of a wooden crate, eating a particularly sour apple. One of the men passed me a bottle of alcohol. Taking a swig, I passed it along. It was the same potent alcohol that almost sent Koraine stumbling into the bonfire. I didn’t miss the way my heart picked up in pace thinking about her. Shaking my head I tried to push her out of my mind, needing to focus on the offensive.
