RED SKY

Once the storm settled, the fog rolled in. A thick, choking blanket of the white shroud fell upon the decks of El Cazador. While everyone else seemed bothered and disturbed by the fog, Elizabeth felt strangely welcomed by the mists. She danced, waltzing among them, trying to raise the spirits of the crew, but to no avail. Even Jack the monkey curled closely against Barbossa's neck, pressing against the captain's face as if out of terror.

She looked to Will. "Dance with me."

Her fiance smiled slightly. "No. I have the feet of angels encased in lead." Elizabeth giggled, but Will sat before her on the foredeck, watching curiously. "You go ahead. Dance for me."

Elizabeth whirled into a waltz with no one.

"She feels it, y'know?" Barbossa whispered in Will's ear. "She knows we be so very close to the island."

"How can you tell?" Will inquired in a breath.

Barbossa pointed, chuckling at her, "Because women on a vessel are nothing but ill luck, Mr. Turner. Of course she would enjoy this!" The man laughed heartily now, slapping his hand upon the blacksmith's shoulder. "Come."

Will followed his captain, surprised at his own obeisance of the barbarian. The crew had stowed the sails long ago, allowing El Cazador to just glide through the water, carried by the current and but the storm gib alone. All was calm and quiet on the sloop as the just drifted through waters of this strange, seemingly surreal realm of this corner of the Caribbean. The crew just stepped out of the way for Barbossa and the man who quickly seemed to be turning into his first mate.

At the bow, Barbossa stood proud, drew in a deep breath, and shouted, "LAND HO!"

All glanced forward, but Barbossa held out a hand, staying their sudden jump to action. The captain gestured to his feet for Will to take up a massive crossbow at his feet. Will did as was needed by his captain.

Again, Barbossa called into the mist. "LAND HO!"

There came an echo, faint and muffled, distant.

"Bring a light," Barbossa instructed to Gibbs. It took but a moment for a lantern to be drawn forward, and the captain snatched it up quickly. "Here!"

At first, Will couldn't tell what exactly Barbossa meant. Then, he glanced down, at the bolt loaded in the crossbow. It had been bound at the head with fabric, soaked in oil. Turner could smell it with its stinging, acrid scent. He nodded and barely graced the cloth in the flame of the lantern. The cloth immediately ignited with a hot flash in an instant.

Will looked to his captain, who bellowed into the mist. "Ho!"

"ho..." came the echo, sharper now.

"THERE!" Barbossa shouted. "NOW!"

Will whirled around to where his captain pointed and flung the bolt, watching it soar into nothingness, into the mists. The flame flickered as it soared through the air. Then, suddenly, it stopped dead, as if hovering in mid air. But Will knew better.

"Hard to port!" Barbossa ordered.

Will called it out, like the perfect little first mate. "HARD TO PORT!"

El Cazador swung around harshly, almost knocking Elizabeth down from her dance with the sudden turn. However, it was just in time, as the bolt came closer to view. It had been lodged by the shot against a massive boulder jutting from the ocean as if from nowhere. Will counted his lucky stars as El Cazador just slipped past the dangerous thing.

He glanced to Barbossa. "How did you know that?"

"Stay on your bolt. There be more of those little things out here, I'd wager." The captain grinned from ear to earn when he did finally look back to Turner. "I told ye we'd be in trouble with Miss Swann in such good graces."

For the rest of that day, the two threaded El Cazador through the rocky atoll slowly and carefully, narrowly avoiding the jagged rocks with sheer luck. Elizabeth never stopped dancing the whole time, not until the fog cleared and they were left sailing in open, safe waters again.

Just their luck.

xxxx

"Should we go ashore?"

None of the crew had dared speak once the island had started to come into view. Silence fell upon all who were gathered as the very tops of the jungle trees slipped above the water, creeping over the horizon in an almost sinister way. The only one who made any noise, was Barbossa, who sang to himself softly.

It took Elizabeth's bravado, having been steeled by Tia Dalma, to say anything. "Should we not get the boats ready?"

Barbossa leaned across the rail slightly. "Be ye sure, Miss Swann?" He glanced to her with knowing and teasing eyes, sparkling with sarcasm. "Do ye have any idea what manner of creatures be living on that spit o' land?"

"No..." She looked to her fiance, who gave but a shrug. "No."

"Let me educate ye, Miss Swann, then." Barbossa glared upon the tiny bit of land, really just a jagged mountain stabbing out of the blue Caribbean, wreathed with a shallow coral atoll. "That be the home of old gods, not yet come to terms with their own partin', so to speak." He rubbed his chin. "And she is most definitely not going to be pleased with me."

Elizabeth felt a shudder run through her. "Who..."

But Barbossa ignored the question. "To the boats!" He turned to Elizabeth, the solitary woman of the motley crew. "You, my dear, will remain here." She went to protest. "The things on that little island there are far worse than any cursed Aztec gold or sea monster. And pirate as I may be, I would rather not have your lovely visage ripped apart by some ancient demon or another."

And, with that, they left her behind.

xxxx

Darkness settled quickly and hung over the island.

This place was silent, almost holy. Not even the crickets dared chirp. The moon blazed nearly as bright as the sun, casting an eerie, pale light upon everything. Here and there, a moonflower bloomed its large, billowing wile flowers. Ragetti reached out with his hand for but a moment, to touch the soft, velvety petals, but Barbossa snatched him by the wrist.

"Ye best be leaving that alone."

Ragetti nodded, his wooden eye swiveling wildly. "Yes... sir."

Barbossa stared at the flower for a moment, an almost thoughtful, dazed look in his eyes, distance and cool. "Yes, even the plants can breathe here." He looked upon the landing party, his eyes wide and almost insane looking. "They can smell ye. They smell yer life." Upon seeing the confusion in their faces, Barbossa softened slightly. "They want it, crave it with each an' every one of their thoughts."

William shook his head. "What? The flower desires our life?"

"No, not the flower, but everything else does."