Hanako reached out of the cage as far as she could, trying to touch her to console her, but her sister’s attention was focused on the grizzled sailor completely.
“You don’t know what you’re offering, lass,” the man said quietly. “Besides, I could make a case for your brother, but we have no use for a child here. Especially one who can’t speak. Your sister is going to be sold with the rest of them.”
The skin of her sister’s foot felt course under Hanako’s hands. The callouses were new; life on board the ship had not been kind to Mei’s bare feet. She closed her fingers around Mei’s ankle and squeezed a little. She may not have words to thank her for her love, but she needed to let Mei know she appreciated her attempt. Especially if the two of them would never see each other again.
Mei looked panicked, her gaze flitting between the sailor she knew to be the lesser of many evils, and the brother and sister she was trying to save.
“Please, master. Do you have some charcoal?”
Thornewood’s scowl deepened. “Charcoal?” he repeated.
But before more questions could be asked, Singing Sally handed Mei a long stick of charcoal and raised an eyebrow.
Of all the sailors on the ship, Hanako liked Singing Sally best. She’d come to the cages to help Mei, in the early days, and spoke to her in a quiet voice, telling her to hang on, to be strong. That she had been where Mei was now, and she could be free too, one day, if she persevered, she needed to bend in order not to break. Hanako didn’t understand many of the other things the woman whispered about with her sister, but Sally was kind, and sometimes, she would sing. Her voice was clear and sweet, and tasted like oranges and blues, and it reminded her of the fruit trees in the yard back home.
Mei quickly snatched up the charcoal and slipped it between Hanako’s fingers at her ankle.
“Show me where we are, Hanako,” she whispered urgently.
Hanako didn’t understand. Mei had told her never to draw where anyone could see. She turned her face to Riku, and he nodded quickly, his eyes wide and dark. He made space for her on the deck, giving her more access to smoothly sanded planks inside their cage.
Hanako pulled the charcoal to her chest and scrambled to her knees.
“What in Manicus’ name are you up to?” Thornewood demanded, but Hanako ignored his growling voice and listened to the wind instead.
She took a quick look around, and breathed in deeply, tasting the blue and the green, all the yellows, and the bright, bright white of the sun, and she began to draw.
She drew, and drew, the rough charcoal cracking and crumbling as she worked, and when she was finally satisfied the picture was crude and a little smudged, but it was accurate.
She sat back, and brushed her black hands on her tattered smock. Mother wouldn’t like that, but the smock was already so dirty… and mother wasn’t here.
“Flames of Perdition…”
More sailors drew near now, peering intently at her drawing and muttering amongst themselves.
“Get Master Damian,” Thornwood ordered. “And tell her to bring a map.”
Copyright © Feia B. Clowder