The first mate was wind-blasted and sun-damaged, with a patchy white beard and yellowing gray hair that he kept tied in a knot at the base of his wrinkled neck and covered with a ratty old knitted cap. She’d heard the others call him Old Salt, which Lore couldn’t be sure that, at birth, despite him being a fresh baby, wasn’t the name his mother had given him, because he embodied it. Old Salt was straight out of a pirate adventure novel. Lore didn’t know how to explain it, but the old fae male looked like he was born on a ship and would die on a ship, and he wouldn’t want to live life any other
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