“Oiy! Bet you can’t race around the island in time.” The bastards just had to dare her, didn’t they? Had to pick a race on a desert island instead of something that took out brain power, right? That was too simple a request! Pel let out another curse as she pressed forward, the sand burning beneath her bare feet as she continued kicking up sand in her fury. The whole morning had evolved from some assholes daring each other into some sort of contest to see who could persevere after a rough voyage, the crew picking on the lesser members to have them race over the scorching hot beach against each other. The loser would have to do the less savory chores while the winner would get their pick of either an afternoon off and some spare coins from the losers. Pel planned to get both if she pummeled them all strongly enough and so her hand had immediately shot up when the games began. “I’ll take the dare!” She cried out, not even wanting to bother with the stupidity of the truth. None of them probably even understood the meaning of the word truth. Hah! Who the bloody hells would even attempt to speak the truth on this crew? It was completely rubbish. Pel knew the men couldn’t even breathe without lying, but this? One couldn’t take back a bet, not with the others watching at least.

“Keep it up, Yarrow!” Pel taunted the other boy, the final runner as she continued forward. The race had started simply enough with everyone lining up on the beach before the ship as she was docked for some quick repairs from last night’s storm. While the crew worked on the ship and the captain rested in his quarters the rest decided that this race had to be upgraded. No, it couldn’t stay a simple dare but rather turned into a contest where they basically tried to murder each other for the victory. The captain had even approved the contest, but had added in the fact that they had to race in bare minimum to hide any weapons since he couldn’t replace dead crew in the middle of the ocean. So boots were off to avoid hidden daggers, guns or swords, then even coats and outer layers were shed too until Pel only had a tunic and her leggings to protect herself from the scorching sun. She refused to strip any further, daring anyone to try to touch her and giving a self patting to show that there wasn’t any metal beneath her clothing. Most of the boys thought that she was just covered in something like nasty burn scars or something with all the wrappings and bandages constantly on her body. Pel liked to keep it that way since it made them oblivious to the fact that a girl was in their midst and it kept any wandering hands away for those who thought her face was too pretty for a man. If anything she laid it on that sometimes her sides ached and even came up with nightmares about burning buildings to keep the crew going with the gossip. As if they weren’t obvious as it was anyway with their loud whispers and pointed stares.

“Might be diseased if not burned to char.” They murmured, some actually disappointed Pel didn’t accept the truth part of the game instead of joining in on the race. “Damn shame.” Some would have been interested to see how gruesome the boy’s body was, just out of sheer curiosity. Wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen a lot of other nauseating things considering what they did to some other ships on the ocean. Had to get the loot somehow, right?

Still, Pel was not sorry to disappoint them. If anything she was more motivated to win this contest and take the next afternoon that she could for herself. It was hard to shop in the city with the crew lingering nearby, after all. Pel had certain necessities that she had to shop for and her uncle would not be helpful in acquiring any of it. Not like he had even openly claimed her with most of the crew still considering her some sort of street urchin that the captain had picked up to just clean up the ship more. Part of her was curious how he would react if she did reveal herself one day, if her shirt and wrapping slipped here even today, but another part of her didn’t want to take the risk. And so she pressed forward to cross the victory line, giving them all the middle finger as she claimed her win and went back aboard to put ointment on her scorched feet.

[790 wc]