[center][h2]The Stowaway[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/DEbPcHJ.jpg[/img][/center]

Nothin’ quite so nice as a hot shower.

Abby let ‘er head loll as the jets hit twixt her shoulderblades.  The water tumbled down her back, steamin’ hot as it rolled down ever’ part ‘o’ her.  Curious fingers made their way tah her wound, an’ ain’t no doubt she could feel it.  [i]Like a ripple on a still pond,[/i] the girl conjured as she probed the firm little ridge.  

She pondered the bullet.  Abby’s no stranger tah seein’ what they could do to a body; the time Uncle Bob an’ ‘is crew put down them pirates give the girl all kindsa evidence fer how folk could git tore asunder.  Ever’ time she ruminated on that, she grew more set of mind that the bullet what struck her had tah be a ricochet.    [i]Sure ‘n it bounced once or twice afore hittin’ me.[/i]  Kinda explained it all.  If that slug done hit ‘er first, by rights she’d be standin’ here without one, possibly both cheeks.  [i]Good luck,[/i] she settled her mind afore it could run toward tha next bullet what had her name…the one she ain’t met yet.

After a thoroughly fine scrubbin’, she stepped outta the shower an’ towelled off afore one ‘o’ them sink mirrors.  Abby turned as she dried ‘er hair, eyes naturally drawn tah her new scar.  There it was, plain as day…a vee shaped little red ridge on her light skin.  Doc tole her the color’d fade over time, an’ she hoped that tah be true.  [i]Lookit me,[/i] she chided herself.  [i]Took a bullet an’ a kiss tah get me frettin’ over the looks ‘o’ my pi gu.[/i] The notion give ‘er a chuckle.

After chinos an’ boots, the deckhand pulled on a fresh tee shirt.  [i][b]Hai Tiki Bar - Pelorum[/b][/i] emblazoned across ‘er chest.  She ain’t never seen Pelorum ‘cept fer sittin on top ‘o’ Mariposa’s hull tah look at tha ocean.  Shirt was a leave-behind from a passenger.  She liked the colors..somethin’ folk called ‘tye-dye.’  She’s also partial tah the slogan…[i][b]”Come get freaky at the Tiki.”[/b][/i]  Abby got no clue as tah the meanin’, but she figgered she might see fer herself someday.

But now, she had work in the engine room.

Boat’s on shore power, so everythin’ was all shut down an’ could be cleaned.  First thing’s first was tidyin’ up after the houseguests.  Rex’s hammock blankets an…ugh, unders…was heaped about, not tah mention a powerful load ‘o’ seeds Lucky done scattered.  

She’s pushin’ broom when it bumped up agin’ a five gallon bucket.  Not an odd sight fer an engine room, but this’n was all decorated in stickers an’ colored markers…placed upside down.  [i]Isaac’s?[/i] she pondered, curiosity wellin’ up over one ‘o’ his makeshift drums bein’ so far from home.  A cookie sheet covered the top.  Abby pulled it aside, peerin’ in to find herself being studied by two beady little eyes.  “Mouse,” the girl shuddered.  “On tha boat.”

Mouses...it ain’t tha one yah see what’s worrisome; it’s the hunnerd yah don’t.  Runnin’ about the boat, raidin’ food stores, frightenin’ passengers, an’ makin’ more mouses.  But the really [i]huài de[/i] thing ‘bout mouses was them teeth.  Mouses chewed ever’thin’.  And sometimes that ‘ever’thin’ could be cables an’ hydraulic lines what kept the boat in tha air.

She had to tell Cap’n.

From inside the bucket, the stowaway stood on his hind legs, whiskers twitchin’ as he looked up at ‘er.  This had to be Pen’s doin’.  Would fit ‘er tah catch him alive an’ then keep ‘im someplace warm durin’ their cold flight.  “So killin’s out,” she said.  “Guess yew must be hungry…mayhaps thirsty, too.”

After scoopin’ up some ‘o’ Lucky’s seed an’ gettin’ water, Abby pondered jest what tah do with their passenger.  “Yah can’t stay,” she whispered as he chewed a seed.  “Guess yer gettin’ a new home.  Let’s go.”

Abby carried the bucket outside the boat.  Far end ‘o’ the tradeport was the landfill, with the jungle beyond.  She conjured that to be his best option.  “Welcome tah Greenleaf, Little One,” the girl said as she released the stowaway.