Drakmor opened the door of the supply closet slowly, preparing for whatever was in there.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the closet, except for a barrel of gunpowder had fallen. The powder had spilled out onto the floor. Though it seemed nothing but an accident, Drakmor noticed a pattern in the black grains. It looked almost like a person had crawled out of it.
'Or maybe they were buried under it,' Drakmor thought, looking around for anything unusual.
Behind him, Sage gasped.
“What is it!?” Drakmor asked her without looking back. Though, after he asked, he saw the cause of the gasp. On the hanging light, high above them, a figure was wrapped around the metal frame covering the wires. Brown furur covered its small body, save where it wore ragged scraps of clothing. Bright yellow eyes appeared as it turned to stare at Drakmor. Its head was that of a wolf’s.
Sage didn’t move, so far as Drakmor could tell. ‘Good,’ Drakmor thought to himself. She was turning out to be just as smart as he thought. Any movement might have upset the beast.
Drakmor quickly thought of what he could do, but before he could act on anything, the wolf-like creature jumped toward the doorway, and toward Sage.
She tried to dodge, but the creature was way too fast for her, and almost too much for Drakmor. He flared his blood, maxing out their enhancement to his body, and jumped between the beast and sage, then knocked the beast out of the sky with a backhanded smack.
Sage relaxed visibly, but kept her eyes on the creature. It had slammed into some sacks of grain and was getting back up shakily. Drakmor noticed something he hadn’t before; the beast’s belly was sunken to an odd degree. He didn’t know what it was, but it acted a lot like a regular wolf.
“Sage,” Drakmor said quietly, trying to not startle the beast, “Grab some leftover meat from the kitchen.” When she gave him a questioning look he added, “The thing is hungry enough to eat even your horrid cooking.” He winked at her as she glared and took off.
The creature, however, did not seem to like the idea of waiting. It darted toward the door with almost blinding speeds. Drakmor quickly flared his blood once more, and tackled the beast. The scraps it wore fell ripped off in the impact. For some reason, Drakmor noticed while holding the beast down, it was more concerned about the clothing than the man holding it down. ‘How odd,’ Drakmor thought.
He stood up, still holding the shorter and weaker creature in a bear hug. It had strength, but the creature was no match for Drakmor. Of course, no one could beat the Steelcrusher. Slowly, the beast stopped squirming, and then something unexpected happened. Where Drakmor had been holding a beast, a girl appeared. She had extremely curly black hair and a facial expression of a girl with no hope. But what surprised Drakmor was that he realized she wore no clothing.
Sage walked back in at that very moment, stumbling when she saw the scene. Of course, Drakmor and Sage could not see the essentials of the girl, due to Drakmor’s jacket, but they both knew her clothing condition.
“Oh, and what’s going on here,” Sage said, forgetting the food in her hands and smiling widely, as if she just heard a grand joke. Drakmor blushed slightly. Hopefully Sage didn’t see…
“She was the beast,” He said simply. Setting the girl down, Drakmor placed his black leather jacket around her and closed it up for her. Before he shut the coat, however, he noticed scars covering her body. No wonder the girl had attacked. Drakmor looked into her sad eyes, forcing her to stare back into his silver ones, and smiled. “You’re all right,” he said, “I promise you this.”
She looked at him with a blank expression. Honestly, from the look of the scars, Drakmor didn’t blame her. He motioned for Sage to bring the food, which caused the girl to look somewhat hopeful.
“Now,” Drakmor said softly, “On this ship we work for our food.” Her expression darkened slightly. “Your job is to tell me your name and to promise not to hurt this little girlie here, ok?” Her brown curly hair bobbed up and down as a smile split her face.
“Dina,” she said, “and I promise.” Drakmor gave her the plate of salted meat and fruit. Dina attacked it ravenously, confirming her starvation as Drakmor had thought.
Sage sighed, “What are we going to tell Captain Briar?”
Drakmor just stared at the skinny girl named Dina. “The truth.” What odd kind of girl was she? And who had given her those scars?