Art led them back to Ort's treehouse, his footsteps quiet as he approached the weathered wooden door. With a practiced hand, he rummaged through the bucket of flowers, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the spare key. Unlocking the door, he ushered them inside, the scent of wood and earth enveloping them.

"We'll discuss the powers I witnessed ye two using tomorrow, and if Ort gives his approval, we may delve into the matter of the wolves. But mark me words, ye mustn't venture outside, regardless of yer newfound abilities," Art advised, his voice tinged with a hint of caution.

Jack nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Fear not, for we shan't tread beyond these walls anymore."

As Art departed, Jack closed the door behind him, the heavy thud echoing in the small space. He settled down on the floor bed, its simple construction lacking the luxury of a wooden frame they had previously moved away from Ort's bed.

Mary joined him, her body sinking into the makeshift bedding. She let out a sigh of relief, her voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. "Phew... That wolf, captain, felt like takin' on three at once. What in the seven seas is happening on this cursed island?"

Jack's back hunched slightly as he pondered the question, his voice steady as he spoke. "Somewhere 'mongst these treacherous shores, there be a monster wolf, the true leader o' the pack. That's why these folks seek refuge in the high treehouses, avoidin' the treacherous ground. The Wolfor flower, a potent poison to those beasts, acts as their shield. Each house keeps a bucket o' it, ready to fend off any attacks."

Mary's brows furrowed in confusion as she questioned further. "If they be so afraid of the wolves, why would Ort and his group venture down at night?"

Jack chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Aye, lass, ye seem to have forgotten their toast. They call themselves The Howling Protectors, sworn to safeguard the people while hunting down the very beasts that haunt their land."

Mary playfully nudged Jack's side and smirked. "Aye, captain, I remember well. But did ye not notice how feeble Art appeared? Why engage in battle when ye lack the strength? It don't make sense to me."

Jack waved a dismissive hand, a smirk playing on his lips. "Bah, that be o' little consequence for now. But, tell me, be ye hungry?"

At the mere mention of food, Mary's stomach growled audibly, betraying her hunger.

"Aye, I reckon that be a resounding yes," Jack chuckled. "Off ye go, whip us up a hearty meal."

After Mary prepared the nourishing feast, they sat together, their stomachs sated. As they settled in for the night, Mary pointed to the corner of the room, devoid of any bedding or pillow. "I'll rest here."

Jack shook his head, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Nay, Mary. Ye deserve better. I'll take that spot."

She paused, considering his words before suggesting, "Why don't we bunk down together? A good night's rest might just be what we need." 

A momentary hesitation washed over Jack, his mind grappling with the implications. "Aye, let us slumber side by side, but mind ye, we must keep our wits about us."

Mary, oblivious to the inner turmoil, settled onto the bedding, her head sinking into the feather-filled pillow. 

Jack stood, extinguishing the candles that cast dancing shadows around the room, before joining her. However, he positioned himself to face away from her, his gaze fixed on the darkness.

Though his eyes remained open, a battle raged within Jack's mind. His desires and the complexities of their relationship clashed with the practicality of their current situation. Mary's presence beside him stirred a longing that he knew could lead to complications, jeopardizing the unity of their crew and the success of their future endeavors.

Mary, noticing his distant demeanor, called out to him softly, breaking the silence. "Captain?"

Jack, scratching the back of his head, snapped back to the present moment. "Aye, lass?"

She tilted her head, her voice filled with concern. "Aren't ye cold, captain? Come, get under the blanket."

Refusing to face her directly, Jack grumbled, "I'm not cold, ye scallywag. Just close yer eyes and go to sleep."

Mary sighed, resigning herself to the situation. She shifted her body once more, closing her eyes, and let the weariness of their journey overtake her.

Jack, however, once again wrestled with his own thoughts.

In an attempt to clear his mind, he conjured up a repulsive image, envisioning a haggard and skeletal old woman. The grotesque image served as a repellent. With time, his mind cleared, and he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep, closing his eyes tightly.

A few hours later, Jack stirred from his slumber, shivering from the chill that had settled in the room. Still groggy, he instinctively rolled his body away from the blanket, only to realize his mistake moments later. With a sleepy murmur, he corrected his course and positioned the blanket to cover himself, seeking warmth.

Unbeknownst to him, in his drowsy state, Jack unknowingly moved closer to Mary's back, their bodies finding solace in each other's presence. He wrapped his arm around her, unintentionally assuming a spooning position, before succumbing to sleep once again.

The room remained quiet, the gentle rise and fall of their breaths creating a peaceful harmony as they slumbered, oblivious to the intricacies of their closeness.

As the first rays of dawn peeked through the cracks in the wooden walls, Jack stirred from his slumber. He stretched his weary limbs and glanced at Mary, still peacefully asleep beside him.

Her cascading dark blue locks, a blend of midnight hues, flowed messily yet exuded a remarkable charm.

Leaning closer, he glimpsed her mouth ajar, emitting soft, almost inaudible snores. A chuckle almost escaped him as he beheld the sight; she seemed so different, more relatable, in this state. 

It was a rarity to witness Mary, once dutiful and serious, now looking so commonplace and vulnerable. Even during their days when they bunked separately in the captain's quarters, she'd always been the first to rise and start scrubbing the deck.

His eyes scanned the room, catching sight of Ort still deeply immersed in slumber due to his tireless work.

Jack rose cautiously and yawned, sauntering over to the kitchen in search of a drink, be it water or spirits. Both were as crucial as the other to his weary soul.

Slowly, he rummaged through the kitchen drawers, ensuring neither Ort nor Mary were disturbed. Disappointment washed over him as he found nothing but herbs and provisions—no drink to quench his thirst or ease his soul.

With a resigned sigh, he resigned himself to slumber. Without Ort's assistance, the pursuit of treasure seemed futile.

Settling down next to Mary, preparing to rest further, Ort suddenly stirred from his sleep, yawning as he awoke.

Spotting Jack, Ort's demeanor swiftly shifted from groggy to alert. "We've matters of import to discuss," he announced.

Gently nudging Mary, Jack roused her from her sleep. She shifted slightly, her back still against the bedding, her eyes half-open as she mumbled, "Wha-."

Jack interrupted, "Rise and shine, Mary. There's much to be done."