[right][h3][color=gray]Chapter One: Reflections[/color][/h3][/right][hr]"There's no food, Cap'n Howler, Sir."

A raggedy, tattered pirate stood with a rifle over his shoulder and a petrified look in his round eyes. Behind him the others made camp: cutting trees, clearing brush, setting fires and building shelters out of long fronds and branches. One of the last casks of booze had been cracked for the occasion -- solid ground, for a couple days at least! -- and already there was raucous laughter while blades flashed in the forest, searching for signs of gold or gems or something to hunt.

The cove was perfect for their purposes: sheltered and remote from the common trade routes, full of high rocks and surrounded by crystal-blue water. It was pristine, untouched, undiscovered until they'd first marred the smooth sand with their boots.

There was a certain undeniable pleasure in the destruction of perfection.

The captain raised his bearded head, his eyes piercing and his ringed rough hands clenched. "What d'ya mean, [i]no food?[/i]"

The smaller pirate quaked. "Well -- there're some fruits that look all right to eat, but other than that just little birds and monkeys." He took in a shaking breath. "The men were p-p-promised meat, Sir --"

Captain Howler sneered, showing his browned and gold-marked teeth. "Did you search the shores? Seals and the greater waterfowl will do just as well."

"Nothing, Sir -- except." The pirate shifted in the sand. "There was a sighting of -- some kind of snake. In the water. It was enormous."

"Well." Howler squinted daggers at him. "Why are you here and not hunting it?"

"W-well, s-sir, um, it seemed they might be ... intelligent."

The cruel grin reappeared on the captain's face. "Do these intelligent snakes have guns?"

"What? N-no --"

"Do they have sabers and spears?"

"Uh ..."

"Survival of the fittest," Howler hissed. "Take Riot and Smelly and bring back enough [i]meat[/i] for the crew." The captain watched his subordinate rush off in a terrified flurry. Howler was proud of his intimidating appearance: broad shoulders, a scraggled reddish beard, layers of fine clothes stolen from dead men and a small arsenal of blades and firearms at his ready access. He patted a small box in his coat pocket -- to ensure it was still there and safe -- and he set off to shout at the lookout for his laziness. They couldn't afford to be discovered, now that they had pulled off a heist that promised to make all of them kings of fortune.

Sorn watched from between the rocks. He shifted his view as the captain strode across the sand, shouting orders at the scurrying pirates. Good -- it seemed the box was still in Howler's left pocket. Maybe in the night, Sorn would have his chance.

For now he retreated, returned to the fishing boat he'd brought ashore and finished concealing it under long fronds and vines. His stomach rumbled. A few found fruits sated his hunger before, with a sharpened stick as a weapon, he leaped into the wilderness to explore this new island. One never knew what assets one could find just by looking.

He dodged the sight of the dispatched hunting party -- Black Eyes, Riot and Smelly, once Sorn's own best comrades -- and ducked through the thick bright forest, quiet and barefoot. He was looking for potential weapons or distractions, maybe a frightening rodent to take the captain's attention away from the little pocket-box -- but instead, a voice caught his ear.

For a moment Sorn stood listening; this was a voice he was very sure he'd never heard before, speaking in a language that sounded like nothing he'd ever heard, but that he could understand nonetheless. Slowly, carefully, he crept toward the edge of the trees -- and with his pointed stick he pushed aside the leaves to see someone leaning over a still pool of clear water. A [i]girl?[/i]

[i]BOOM-CRACK![/i]

A musket-shot whizzed by his ear and tore a gash into a tree just behind Slee, showering her with splinters.

"It's Sorn!" yelled Smelly, his musket smoking. "Come out you rat!"

Sorn pressed his back against the tree and froze, his sharp teeth bared.

Black Eyes wrenched the musket out of Smelly's hands. "You idiot, he's not here! He's swingin' from the gallows!"

"I [i]saw[/i] 'im, it was [i]him![/i]"

"We got [i]meat[/i] to catch," Riot hollered over them both; he was the strongest of the three, carrying a small boat over his head. "Black Eyes, where'd you see that lizard-thing?"

Black Eyes growled, but he motioned a direction and resumed hiking toward the beach. "You got the harpoons?"

"Plenty," Riot agreed, clanking with each step.

Smelly stayed behind, peering into the forest -- waiting for movement.