The ships came into view, maybe not hundreds of them, but certainly close to it. They were all spaced out and anchored clear offshore to keep from the sea smashing them together or against the cliffs. Pear-dear, a lovely name, was making remarkable time with those little arms of his.
I peered around, excited to see which of these lovely things we would sail on. Was it the huge one with lines of giant windows down the sides? Was it the one with gold and ivory trims? The one with black sails and a skeleton drawn on them that was parked very far from the rest?
“No.” Spel and Blackie shot me down immediately when I pointed the last one out.
We had to weave past a few ships before we arrived at the right one.
It was a modestly, yet well-sized vessel in brown and reds. The figurehead was an ivory colored carving of a merlady hugging werewolf. They didn’t vary from normal wolves much, just that they were bigger than even the biggest of bears and built like bears with their large paws and stronger forelegs.
They still preferred to use their teeth to rip out throats, though. Well, the ones I kil- met did at least.
Spel was kind enough to warn us, after all, wolves are pack animals. They guard their family closer than even dragons do. …of course she also might have just been bragging about her family. It can be hard to tell.
Blackie moved to reclaim my hand as we prepared to board the ship. The children were waking up and woke up even faster when Babaris threw them onto the deck.
Bargrl, the dear, landed on her face, but bounced right back up to catch Vel before he suffered the same. Spunky as she is, the lovely girl glared at the old man for the rough handling.
“What?” He scowled, and wise as she is, she backed down.
He untied me so we could climb up with some amount of dignity, or because Spel was eyeing him like he was a trafficker. Which, technically, is not wrong, but that is not the point.
The deck was filled with children who all looked very similar. Most were the huge human-look-a-likes that were werewolves in their stolen human forms, while 5 or 6 were scrawny little things like Pear. Though, to be fair, that was only due to comparison. They were actually pretty tall and fit for the average human, or more accurately merfolk. Vel and Bar-girl looked like toddlers here.
The biggest and oldest of them walked up with his wife hanging on his back. He had a full beard going to his belly, had shoulders almost as wide as he was tall, and was looking at Blackie with approval. His wife was beautiful and had a sly look and she propped her elbows on the table shoulders.
“We’c’m ‘n bor.” He grumbled.
“Welcome on board.” She chortled, probably translating. I vividly had an image of a pirate with one of those talking parrots I met once.
“Y’ di well ‘oss’n yongst. O’ la’t’be’ep’n in.” I looked at Blackie, who was nodding, having understood the rumbling sounds that I assumed might have been words.
I turned back and the wife looked blankly at me, slightly shaking her head and shrugging helplessly.
“In any case,” She sighed, reminding me of the siblings, “We rarely get passengers, so I apologize for the rough trip in.”
“Actually, it was remarkably smooth and welcoming!” I smiled, “Your little ones were very skilled in getting us here.”
The cap’i- Captain, snorted. “Jus’ brats.” …sure enough I saw Blackie nodding emphatically.
He was ignored as she continued with a sincere smile, “Thank you! Spel is our eldest, and Pear insisted. Well, my name is Wristine, and this this my husband Pierce. The rest of that lot,” she gestured to the various wolves and wolf-hybrids, “will introduce themselves when needed.” She chuckled, “We wouldn’t want to overwhelm our new guests.” Her inhuman slit eyes focused back on us. “How should we address you?”
Blackie pulled our hoods down and threw them into his space, then with great gravitas, took a deep breath for our introduction.
“I am-“
“He’s Grandpa Bar-bar and I’m Granny Boney.” I patted his arm affectionately as they stared at our hair. He put his hand over mine, and for I moment I legitimately thought he might break it.
“…Black and Bone are fine.” He grumbled. “This is our adopted son Vel and the girl is Three.”
“No, it’s not! Only my dad calls me that!” Bargrl immediately protested, “I’m Bargrl.”
Spel somehow managed to keep a straight face, “It is understandable to use aliases when we’ve jus’ met.”
Vel raised his hand, “Actually that’s my real name too.”
“Yeah, though if we use my real title it’d be ‘White’ not Bone.” I commented. Probably for the worse, as I saw the gears turn in their heads as they connected the dots.
“Fu-“ one of the crew, probably an uncle based on the age, got silenced before he finished swearing, meaning they probably figured it out.
“Why do I even f-ing bother.” Blackie muttered. I grinned.
“…Well, we should get going!” Wristine clapped her hands and the two of them started barking orders. “Oh, Spel, would you show them their quarters? Thank you. Rip, I see you trying to run, you know you’re on anchor duty with Sparine! No, she’s not trying to drown you, she already said it was an accident and we got your arm reattached, quit being a child!”
My eyes lit up, I looked at Spel for the gossip.
“…No, Aunt Sparkle really was trying to kill him. Uncle Rip accidently stole the man she’d had her eye on last port.” She pointed to a pet amphibian that was joyfully hopping behind a very nervous, cleanshaven man with a heavily bandaged arm. It was a very cute little thing.
“…is that a frog?” Vel asked quietly.
“…We’re not sure.” Spel whispered back.
