I've had this hanging around in my school folder for ages, and figured it was probably time to do something with it. I always did wonder what the answer to this question was…
Oh, and the title comes from one of my favourite games, because I couldn't think of anything better: "Brave adventurers? You two couldn't find your way out of the village without training!"
A cookie to you if you know which game I am referring to…
Brave Adventurers
No place was safe from a determined Whitebeard Pirate. The tiny cave hidden halfway up the side of a sheer cliff, in the middle of a dinosaur-filled jungle, on an otherwise uninhabited island, might have posed more of a challenge than most places, however.
Thatch staggered the last few steps to the mouth of the cave, and flopped down heavily on a patch of damp green moss near the entrance. "Phew! I won't be goin' anywhere in a hurry. Come pull up a seat, Ace." He patted the moss affectionately, cocking his head to the side and grinning mischievously. "Has anyone followed us?"
Ace glanced back along the narrow goat-track they'd just traversed, having to lean precariously out over the cliff in order to get a good view. "Doesn't look like it, though I wouldn't put it past Marco to be out there somewhere."
"Yeah… you gotta be always on the lookout for him." Thatch dug in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled scrap of aged parchment, so brittle it threatened to fall apart between his thick fingers. Scowling in concentration, he gently unfolded it, smoothing out the corners and squinting at the faded ink.
"Okay. Would you say we're about halfway up the mountain?"
Ace leaned out over the edge of the precipice again, glancing down at the rainforest below, and then up at the snow-lined peak far above. "Yup."
Thatch glared at him. "Would you quit that?"
"Quit what? This?" Judging by the ingenuous smile on his face as he performed a jog along the very edge of, Ace knew exactly what Thatch meant.
"Gah!" Thatch leaped up and grabbed Ace's wrist, dragging him away from the edge. "You're making me nervous. What would Pops say if I let you fall off?"
Ace shrugged, unconcerned. "It probably wouldn't kill me, so no worries there. Are we in the right place?"
Thatch wrestled with the map for a moment, flipping it upside down, then up the right way again, holding the ancient parchment up to the sunlight. "I think so. Where's the rule that says pirates can't spell? This is the fourth treasure map I've seen that spells 'treasure' with a 'z'."
"It actually says 'treasure'?" Ace crouched down beside the older pirate, peering intently at the map. "Huh. Why do we make treasure maps, anyway? Any old joker could come along and steal it, and it'd lead them straight to your loot."
Thatch shrugged. "Same reason we hide the loot in the first place. So we can come back later, having spent all the rest on booze and women-"
"And food," Ace interrupted peremptorily.
"-yeah, that too… and go spend the second lot as well, I suppose."
"What happens when you run out of money?" Ace asked, every inch the attentive student.
Thatch glanced at the boy out the corner of his eyes. Somehow, he got the feeling he was being made fun of- but Ace had long ago perfected the innocent expression he wore now, and Thatch failed to find any proof.
In the end, he settled for sighing in feigned resignation, and said, "Then we go steal more. You still have much to learn about being a pirate, obviously."
Ace punched him on the bicep, but it was still worth it.
Word Count: 545