Chapter 7! Finally! Okay just to brief, Tiller's been punished, and he's seen something in an unnatural fog bank. Short brief, but whatever. Note- There's a rather grim part at the end of this chapter, so beware. It's not too bad, but if you're not into that kind of thing, just skip that parta bit...Here we go!

A shadowy shape drifted into Tiller's view.

His blood froze.

A ship, he thought fearfully.

His claws and legs began to shake uncontrollably from the dead cold and the horrible sight before him. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was it the fog that made the shape? No.

There, upon the grey waters like a lost spirit, drifted a ship larger than any vessel he had ever seen.

It's great hulking stern was highly ornate, and appeared to have five decks, something near unheard of for ships of the time. Four great masts towered above the decks and torn and tattered sails moved like grey wraiths amidst the swirling fog.

Tiller stood, too terrified to move. What in the name of hellgates was this thing? It just sat there, floating on the turbid sea, as if waiting for something….

Tiller wished it would show it's side so he could see it's name…He then realized something.

Wait, the current should be washing it against the dock…so why isn't it? Is it anchored?

Even as the question raced through his mind, a faint groaning of ancient wood hovered over the mist and reached Tiller, and he watched in petrified terror as the ship's rudder moved silently through the waves. The ship began to turn.

Be careful what you wish for…He thought regretfully.

Slowly, the ship's bow came into view, and Tiller realized in growing horror that the anchor was drawn up.

How does it fight the currents! It's impossible…unless, he gulped, It isn't a real ship at all…

he gulped,

As the behemoth ever so slowly came into full view, Tiller realized that this ship would have been beautiful once. It would have been a floating fortress of pride and power, prestige and glory…but now…..the ornate carvings and inlays were dull and wrecked beyond recognition, the gold was faded and tarnished, and the wood cracked and aged by the endless pounding of salty waves. Tiller could faintly see through the drifting fog that the ship had once been painted a dark colour, most likely a black darker than death itself. The mooring ropes that held the sails to the mast and ship were fayed, most of them were broken and hung there, motionless like dead serpents.

Tiller heard the whispering again, and the fog twisted around the haunting form like a dark claw, running slender flingers through the sad remains. For a moment, Tiller could not see the hull through the misty cloak, and he waited, terrified, for the ship to turn all the way onto it's starboard side. Perhaps the name still remained…

Just then, a mournful wind blew up against the harbour, or was it a wind? Tiller had never felt anything so strange. He felt the thick air move around him, yet it was empty and breathless, it had no chill nor warmth to it; it was…hollow.

The "ghost" wind filled Tiller with a sense of deep sadness. He felt as if his soul had left him, as if there was nothing happy in his life. His life was no longer worth living.

The wind blew again, moaning in his ears.

He looked to the ship.

It had stopped, and although the unearthly breeze blew, the sails and ropes did not stir. Tiller shivered as he thought he heard the timbers of the ship groan mournfully…as if weary…

It weeps…he thought sadly.

Tiller gazed at the ruined vessel in bleak sorrow. The apparition radiated with doom and hopelessness, and he swore he heard cries of pain and blood carried on the phantom wind, the cries of lost souls…the cries of death…

He held is breath as the fog withdrew it's spectral grasp on the timbers of the ship.

Slowly, slowly, along the side of the great vessel, the faded letters came into view…

Tiller's heart jumped to his throat.

The Grimwake…

His breath became laboured and he felt a bead of cold sweat run down is face. He had heard of the great ship Grimwake, oh, he had heard of it. He heard gruesome tales of the high queen of ships, the black terror of the seas, the reaper of the waves…

He thought his heart would tear itself from his chest as he read, over and over, not believing his eyes, the dull letterings on the timbers. A lump grew in is throat and his stomach tied in a knot. He couldn't tear his eyes from her…The Grimwake held his gaze like a snake would hold it's prey in it's coils.

A great moaning and creaking of aged timbers drifted out across the harbour, dampened by the thickness of the fog.

Why does she weep? Tiller asked himself, almost pitying the sombre phantom.

The spectral wind blew again, and the Grimwake turned head on, showing it's grim and bloodied figurehead. The fog seemed to pulse and quiver asthe great ship's timbers groaned once again.

The misty cloak began to rise higher above the black surface of the water and Tiller felt a dead cold come about him as he came under the Grimwake's phantom shadow...

Tiller choked in fear and horror.

Bodies, dead bodies of pirates floated in the water. Searats, weasels, stoats and ferrets, all drifted in the dark waters. The water…it was red…red with blood….

Tiller fainted.

O.o Creepy! Who are these poor shipbeasts? And what is the Grimwake, truly?Well, you'll have to keep reading! That's it for chapter seven! R&R .!