Leif G.S. Notae – Writing More With Less

The 30th entry (and final) in the Pirate Fantasy Flash Fiction series The Wicked Cat. This is the longest running series I have and I want to thank you all for going along for the ride with me. I have learned a lot since the start of this series and the feedback is amazing. Look for the characters in this entry to be in book form at some point and time. Happy New Year if I don’t hear from you before then, thank you for reading and enjoy!

Fodd walked toward the cliffs and sighed as he saw the pale blush of sunrise start to crest over the horizon. The wind blew against his face and his exposed skin, caressing him as a lover might. He shivered and turned his face away from the drifting scent as he watched Natt nuzzle Myrilda. Brynn and Fodd carried her toward the cliffs and found a place for her to rest. Natt was always underfoot and never left Myrilda’s side. He shook his head as his face twisted to a mask of anger and annoyance. “The boy will be a liability one day if I don’t break him of his habits.”

Brynn appeared next to him and cleared her throat as she tossed a small orange fruit his direction. “You should be happy your son accepts people for their flaws. He might not forget what she did. However, she was there to help when it mattered.”

Fodd caught the fruit in midair and shook his head as his vision caught the Lost Hope in the harbor. The husk sank in the harbor with no resistance as the ancient timber caught fire and devoured the ship within moments of the first cannonball striking the deck. The only thing that remained of the relic was the mast jutting from the water as if it were a beacon for travelers to be wary of sailing there. He sniffed the fruit and grumbled as he struggled to peel the skin off. “Where did you find this? I couldn’t imagine any of the stores in the ruins would have lasted one-hundred years.”

“You’d be surprised what people leave behind when they are in a hurry. Even if we don’t find a way off this rock, we still have enough food to last us a few months. We’ll have to move soon if we want to get away from the villa; I doubt Hyril will forget about it when they return with the fleet.” Brynn said.

Fodd took a bite from the fruit and nodded as he chewed the bitter innards. His mouth worked to a fine pulp, and he swallowed. His face morphed from anger to a sour look as he sputtered from the pungent flavor. “For now, the Hryil Navy is broken. The captain is missing and no one has seen where the lord ran to. I can assume he is with Unne somewhere, but I care not to venture a guess at this moment as to where they could be.”

Brynn sighed as she looked at the husk outlined in the shimmering light as the ocean caught the first rays of dawn. “The real problem is the Lost Hope is no more. People had hopes. T wanted to see the Last Hope returned to them, rechristened and ready to lead the charge against their oppressors. When the word arrives at the mainland, there will be despair and chaos as riots will break out in the streets.”

Fodd nodded as he turned to watch his son fall asleep with his head resting on Myrilda’s lap. She stroked the fur as she rested against the stone wall. Her breathing became shallow and her head lolled to the right as she drifted to sleep. He laughed at the sight, turned his head, and took another bite of the fruit. Brynn raised an eyebrow as she shot him a glance. “What is so funny?”

“I am not sure if I should be jealous of my son or pity him for making connections with mortals that will never last. The Sea Mages and Water Casters steal life. They must in order to live an unnatural lifespan. It is more convenient to think of those living creatures as resources instead of people with feeling.”

“He’ll learn in due time. He’s a smart kid. Since he is cursed, perhaps he might be the one that will find a way to stop stealing life from others and start doing more with his life.”

Fodd snorted as he tossed the fruit husk over the edge of the cliff. He watched it land in the water and smiled as fish from the area swam around the bitter fruit and started to devour it. “Only the Eight will be able to tell for sure, along with those who weave the tapestry.”

Brynn followed suit and offered a weak smile at Fodd. She scanned the bay and saw the Sorrow’s Bell in port. She shook her head and sighed as she took a step away from the cliffs. “Speaking of the Eight, where in the Forty-Two Hells is that damned rodent? I sent him to greet the Sorrow’s Bell two candles ago. He’s not stupid enough to get lost for that long.”

“Arrr, ye be talkin’ about me without me here, are ye? I have ye know I were makin’ sure we gathered everythin’ we needed from the Hyril scum. They may be stupid, but they are a generous lot also.” Bluefeather landed on a small post near Brynn and ruffled his chest feathers as he glared at his co-captain. He stretched his wings and offered a yawn as the feathers smoothed themselves back into place. He cast his gaze at the sunken Lost Hope and sighed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a cure for your curse soon. You have some of the timber to keep your wits about you. That is a start” Brynn said.

“Aye, the lads were kind to this ol’ soul by harvestin’ as much as they could.” Bluefeather nodded as he blinked away the tears that started to form in his coal eyes. He turned his head and spotted Natt sleeping next to Myrilda. His beak dropped open and he hopped on the post as his chest and head feathers ruffled once more. “Ye be a cheatin’ wench if ye think ye can be replacin’ ol’ Bluefeather with a smelly walkin’ rug! Paws off me lass, flea circus!”

Brynn and Fodd laughed as Bluefeather zipped toward Myrilda and flapped his wings at Natt. Myrilda sputtered as feathers smacked against her face and Natt opened one eye to glare at the cursed macaw. Bluefeather hopped around and yelled at the cat before Myrilda scooped the bird in her arms and cradled her to her chest. “What did I say to you about being rude to a lady? It isn’t nice to wake people from their sleep because you are jealous.”

Bluefeather whistled, squirmed his way from her grasp, and plummeted down her tattered blouse. His head popped out between her cleavage, and he stuck his black tongue out at Natt. The cat yawned and fell back to sleep against his new-found friend.