A branch caught on the long, obstructive military uniform. Murdock cursed, pulling the garment free. Cartha only paid him a moment's notice before continuing onwards. She'd been giving him the cold shoulder since the morning, and it was growing frustrating.
It wasn't his fault that he was left out. He wasn't the only one, either. Most of the men and women he had talked to were antsy, wanting a fight or anything other than this. None wanted to spend who knew how long patrolling an empty island. That wasn't quite true; something important was there. But grunts like him weren't told what.
None of them had reached the point of mutiny. That would take far more than boring days. But they were growing restless. Murdock even heard talk about forcing prisoners to fight for entertainment, though that would be too much hassle.
Murdock wanted none of that. He'd most certainly watch and possibly even bet. However, that was it. He would not be involved anymore. That was far too much work. Forcing people to do that sort of thing wasn't easy. It often came with the offer of freedom, which none of them could grant. Not with these prisoners at least.
The two of them stepped into the clearing at their camp. The smell of grilled turkey filled the clearing. That was the other thing. The food here was terrible. He was used to the Avelon classic. Buy anything you could eat, and when they said anything, they sure damn meant it.
Grilled turkey, now that was plain gross. It might have been halfway decent if the cooks knew what they were doing, but they were stuck with the leftover cooks. Which meant they were simply men who claimed they knew how to cook so they wouldn't be executed.
"Cartha, you think we'll be getting anything else tonight?" He hoped for an answer.
She glared at him. Murdock sighed. Female pirates were rare. One had to be fierce to join and overcome all of the competition. That was simply how things worked in Avelon. As such, he had been lucky to be placed on duty with Cartha for so long. That was his original thought, at least. Now he was starting to think he was doing something wrong.
Murdock waved at a few of the others as they wandered into the camp. The sun had begun to set, casting low shadows across the clearing. It gave it an eerie feeling, and once again, Murdock wished he were back home in bed or out at sea. He hated the jungle, and most of all this jungle.
They received plates of turkey with no fanfare. Murdock again failed to start a conversation with Cartha as they sat on a fallen log. She couldn't still be angry at him from the morning, could she?
As if to prove the point, she finally said, "This partnership is not working out."
Murdock flinched, "What do you mean?"
Those were not the words he wanted to hear.
Cartha turned on him, voice sharp. "Drop the act, Murdock. You know we don't belong on patrol together. I see it now, and so should you. Gods, your face makes me sick."
Murdock choked on a mouthful of turkey, "Whaaaa…"
He could feel the other eyes of the group on him. This was about the worst-case scenario. If someone requested a partner transfer, it always looked bad on the other. In his case, Cartha was far more notable than he was. He would be in the gutter if he simply weren't expelled after this.
He opened his mouth to respond and closed it again. What was he to say? Oh, Cartha, you are most certainly right? That would just end with him in the gutter. He had nothing good to win her over. The only way he could get her to not talk badly about him was to prove himself, and he had blown that in one day. If only he could get one more chance…
The entire camp rocked. Murdock was tossed over his log like a sack. The explosion seemed to have momentarily blown his eardrums. Sticking another bite of turkey leg into his mouth, he rolled onto his side. A billowing cloud of smoke illuminated the darkening sky. Someone beside him cursed, and they leaped upwards.
Murdock's eyes widened. He had no idea what had just happened, but did it really matter? Now was his chance. It seemed to have fallen from heaven. He promised himself that he would be more dedicated from this moment forward.
Swallowing his mouthful of turkey, he dropped the leg onto his plate and stumbled to his feet. The camp was in chaos as everyone charged towards the jungle. They needed to reach the distant explosion and fast. It seemed the Valencians had made their move.
"I knew we should have taken that fort," He heard Cartha curse as she tore off into the night, Murdock trailing behind her.
The sun was in front of them, trailing long shadows. As the pirates raced towards the fire, they all failed to notice a smaller shape slip into the camp. Derrin moved quietly. He didn't have much to fear. Even if the pirates saw him, they'd be too focused on the distant explosion.
Red had done his magic. Derrin had no doubt that Vizim played a role as well, but in the end, it was Red's plan. Moving like a shadow, he danced between crates and overturned logs. The entire time, his hand balanced on the hilt of his sword. He would not draw unless forced to.
It seemed like their plan had benefited in more than one way. The pile of unfinished turkey was still waiting to be fully distributed. That would be enough for a few days at least. They had to worry about the meat spoiling, but right now that wasn't a concern. Instead, Derrin focused on the few key words that the woman had spoken as she disappeared.
"We should have taken the fort." That was exactly what he wanted to hear. Making it there would now be their utmost priority. Not that it wasn't before, but now they could be certain. Derrin carefully felt the auras vanishing into the jungle. It was like he had expected. None of them had heart layers.
He had no doubt that the actual leaders of the camp were strong. Stronger than he was, for certain. There was no other way they could have taken a Valencian stronghold. Even one so weakly defended.
Derrin paused in front of the food for a moment. They hadn't really planned on how to transport it out of the camp. That didn't matter. Without pausing, Derrin grabbed a hanging shirt nearby. It had been recently cleaned, which was perfect. He wrapped the remains of the turkeys inside and turned.
He froze.
The tent in front of him was rustling. He hadn't sensed an aura within. That meant whoever this was was strong. Dropping the meat, he drew his blade silently. The flap flung open as a bulging man stumbled out. He held no weapon. Derrin knew that didn't really matter. Weapon or not, he could still be deadly.
The man's eyes widened. That was all. There was no other reaction as the blade sliced across his neck. Derrin dodged back to avoid the blood spurting from the wound as the man crumpled to the ground. There were many ways to have slain the man, but taking care of the vocal cords was important for silence.
Not paying the man a second glance, Derrin flicked the blood off his blade. It seemed he hadn't even possessed a proper heart. Scooping up the makeshift sack of meat, Derrin disappeared into the jungle as quickly as he had come. He had killed more innocent men than before.
While it may not have been as honorable as he liked, the man was a pirate or, at the very least, worked for them. That was reason enough to call for his death. That's what he told himself at least.