And we're back.

Check out my new story Adrift, which is basically the reason I have the motivation to keep this story going.

Hope everyone has been doing well.

Sincerely,

L & D


As Jeanne departed with a middle-aged hunter named Eric, the remaining folk spoke to each other in low whispers about coming attractions.

Poppy was discussing the geography of the island with the topographer (who was at least an octogenarian, but startling sharp).

"And this area here?"

Jeanne doesn't hear the long diatribe that was bound to follow from such a question, and she was honestly glad. Eric seemed like the quiet type, and Jeanne was grateful for at least that much.

They crawl through the dense forest brush, with tall pine trees looming far above their heads. She can hear swallows chirping in the trees, flitting above their heads, and it makes her wonder if it wasn't just the shape of the island that gave it its name.

Eric's eyes meet hers after an hour of trudging uphill, and he beckons her to follow. Jeanne inclines her head, and he climbs his way quickly up a tree, and she clamors after him, slower, less skilled, but she eventually meets him on a low hanging branch.

Her eyes glide over to the direction where he pointed out a town in the distance.

The layout was fairly standard; a piazza, shops, homes, and a main road that presumably lead to the dock, the lifeblood of any island. She sees smoke rising from chimneys.

Eric's soft voice breaks the birdsong in her ears.

"The path we took to get here is difficult to retreat back into. Any running will make noise—but most of the islanders here use the trees anyway."

Jeanne considers this as she takes note of the fortifications around the town. A tall wooden fence encompassed it—making it all the more difficult to get into it in the first place.

"How do we get them to come to us?" She whispers lowly. "With the amount of people we have, it'd be suicide to go charging in. But, if we flank the town, have people in the trees, we could shoot them down."

"No guns." Eric grunts.

"Bows?"

He nods. "We all know how to—the men at least. The boys as well."

"The women?"

"We've been teaching 'em."

Jeanne pauses. "Why no guns?"

"Marines took 'em." She sees his fingers caress the hunting knife strapped to his chest. "Marines took everythin'. Town included."

She sighs deeply, wondering if her captain's bleeding heart was rubbing off on her.

"You got men who can lead to other areas? Cover all the exits?"

Eric clicks his tongue. "Yeah."

"We should scout them out anyway. See what we're working with."

Eric doesn't reply, but they descend back to the forest floor.

Three exits, he lets her know with three fingers raised. She nods.

They continue on, pushing past the brush, around the perimeter of town, and when the reach the second exit, they scale another set of trees.

Jeanne tries to keep tabs on the route they had taken, but all the trees blended together into a great green labyrinth. The longer she was on Swallow Island, the more she realized that everything about it made it the perfect place for getting lost. Every bush looked the same as the last, every flower indiscernible to her unknowing eyes, and she thought herself to be the wrong person to be scouting for such an important affair.

Her guide, however, knew every tree as if it were his own. Jeanne supposed that was only natural. It was his home, after all.

He barely made a sound as he climbed rough bark, or crouched in the dry brush of the undergrowth. His dark eyes reacted to every sound, every breeze.

Eric only speaks in the safety of lofty branches. She's sure it's because the whole forest muffles their voices to him. Or maybe it was because he knew from experience that no one could hear them.

Either way, his confidence puts her nerves at ease.

When they get settled in their second perch, Jeanne is able to see the large home that jutted out from the humble buildings of the city. It's far enough that they don't worry about being seen, but Jeanne's illusions make them shadows anyway.

Eric gives her a moment before offering more information—information she hoped Anne was being told back at camp.

"They're packing rifles mostly. Their captain has a big ass hammer. No devil fruit users, to my knowledge."

"Swordsmen?"

"A few. I'm hopin' our little bow plan takes care of that."

"Whose house was that?"

Eric goes still, but breathes raggedly in his reply. "It was Lady Jane's. Their captain made it his base or somethin'."

Jeanne doesn't voice her sympathy, but she gets the feeling that Eric didn't need it anyway.

She watches small white people dots mill about in the distance. Among them were other colors too, perhaps the people that hadn't revolted, hadn't cared to, or were simply too scared to put their lives on the line. Jeanne had met plenty of people like that in her life—the kind that would acquiesce to every ever demand and endure every slight if it meant they kept living one more day.

She can't blame them.

Eric's face says otherwise as his featured morphed into a scowl, and as his hackles raised. She wasn't sure what did it, but the man's thick eyebrows almost blend into his eyelashes as they sunk into a glower.

Just looking at the town was enough to light a fire under his heels.

Jeanne didn't know much about that feeling. She had never cared for a place enough to be willing to die for it.

(But what did she know about family homes and tight-knit communities?)

Satisfied, they continue onto the last exit, being the on that led directly to the port. It was wide enough to let wagons and merchant caravans pass easily, and Jeanne crinkled her nose.

It was uncertain if they were getting reinforcements; uncertain if they were getting more ammunition or gun power.

She didn't like that one bit.

Eric seemed to agree, especially as they saw a gaggle of Marines come out to greet a covered wagon that did nothing to ease their concerns.

It was clear how much they didn't know—how much could go wrong in an instant. Neither of them say anything about it, but it lingers in the air like miasma.

As they hiked back to camp, Jeanne sends three little sparrows to go perusing through town.


Anne's fingers gingerly graze the surface of a beautifully drawn map of Swallow Island, tracing thinly drawn lines and lingering on changes in elevation, and the painted trees and streams that indicated their symbolized geographica features. Poppy's voice drones in the background, detailing strategies and plans according to the knowledge she had gleaned from the map-maker. Her eyes flutter closed as her navigator waxes on about the thick foliage and the tall and towering forest that could serve as their help or their hinderance.

Her thoughts drift only momentarily, back to memories of black market murders and the hell she had raised in making the seedier side of her home a bit more respectable. Instead of the vast land of a mountainous island, she had buildings and ledges to take account of, and it seemed so much more simple than the grand task ahead of her.

Poppy's fingers snap in front of her face.

"Captain? Are you even listening to me?"

Anne's index finger lands on the dock. "We burn this. No ship can moor here—and we absolutely can't have the Marines calling for backup. I would prefer destroying all the den-dens on the island, but that seems unlikely at this point—even if they don't have any devil fruit users."

Hyoji shakes his head. "We can't. That's how we get supplies as well."

"We have to. You can rebuild, and you won't starve until then. It's a summer island."

"We can't." Hyoji affirms staunchly.

Anne struggles with the map in front of her. She knew burning the dock, and then setting fire to the city would be the most obvious solution to secure the battle to come on the island. The dock would prevent escape. The city would force the Marines to flee into the forest—where they would have the best chances for victory.

"We need to burn the city then, at the very least."

Hyoji growls. "Absolutely not. Not our home."

"You're not making this easy for me."

"Think of a better plan then."

She bites her lip, chewing at it in thought.

Poppy's voice grinds her wheels to a halt. "We could have Jeanne conjure up an illusion of the ships and city burning?"

"The dock, maybe," Anne admits, "but the city is a stretch. The illusions don't hurt people, and if someone notices, then the jig is up."

"What if you're just looking at this wrong, Captain? We just need the Marines out of the city—we could do something to make them want to hunt everyone down." Of all of Poppy's proposals, this one makes Anne's eyes go feral.

"I could think of a few ways for that to happen—"

"We've got elderly and children. If we piss off the Marines and they find them, they'll kill them. I won't have that blood on my hands." Hyoji interjects.

Anne pinches the bridge of her nose and heaves a loud, suffering sigh. "Hyoji, let's find some middle ground here. I've been thinking about this already—we can put them on our ship and have Jeanne camouflage it. That way, if things go south, at least we can get some people out of here."

Hyoji still doesn't seem enthused, but he doesn't say anything in opposition.

Anne arches her back, nestling her fists in the small of her spine to stretch the tension she knew was already accumulating. "Alright. We wait for Jeanne and Eric to return for scouting. Hopefully they can give us some numbers and a vague idea of what we're up against."

Her two collaborators seem to agree with the idea, and Anne is quick to hurry out of Hyoji's tucked away tent.

She stops by the main hearth, admiring the fragrant soup that a stooped old woman was preparing for waiting children. Anne leans over, hoping to get a glimpse into the pot, as the woman turned, wrinkles carving out the lines of her face.

It was clear the woman wanted a swift and proper explanation as to why someone was breathing down her neck. Instantly, Anne bowed, her cheeks a bit flush.

"Sorry! I was just—smells good!" Anne splutters out, and the woman's silence is concerning until Anne hears a chortle and has the courage to look up.

The woman must've been beautiful when she was young and smooth faced—her eyes were a deep black, and her white hair was well taken care of.

"Here on Swallow island we use anything we can find." The woman began. Anne knew when she was about to get a story, so she set her expectations accordingly. "You see, along the shore, we have palm trees, and then pines. Unusual for most islands. We have citrus trees and little plants hiding in the brush. Nettle and and ginger and star anise and roasted young coconut meat—that's what my mother taught me to use. We don't have much space for cattle, but the swallows and rabbits are always around." She stirs the pot, and Anne can smell lime and coconut. "This is a soup she taught me to make—swallow and young coconut meat. We've made oil from coconuts for decades—and when you bloom the spices just right, with some sea salt, you have Swallow island soup. Wild onion and wild garlic first. You grind dried nettle leaves, dried star anise, and ginger, and add it just as the onion and garlic finishes. After the slices bloom, coconut water and lime juice. Then you add the roast swallow and coconut meat."

Anne nodded dutifully as the woman started serving the children, ready with their own wooden bowls, and after a child was served, they zipped off to enjoy their food amongst a gaggle of friends.

"Thank you." Anne says, as the woman handed her a bowl of the stuff.

"Anika." The woman introduced gesturing to herself. "And you're Anne."

"That's me." She confirmed, sipping from the bowl.

It was foreign to Anne's tongue, but comforting all the same—warm and bright.

"You've only been here a while, but you've helped." Anika prods at the hearth with a long branch. "I must thank you for that."

"You don't have to thank me. I want to. For Swallow Island soup."

Anika laughs heartily. "Then I must thank you for wanting to save Swallow Island soup, then."

Anne sips again, shaking her head. "I wish more people wanted to save soup."

"You're a strange girl."

"I suppose."

Anika settles down on the ground as Anne finishes her soup, and she pours a helping for the woman who made it.

"Thank you, dear."

Anne pauses, and suddenly— "Let me rub your shoulders, Anika-obaa-san." The woman gives her another look, but offers her another smile.

"These old bones of mine ache, you know? I don't have any children left to help."

Anne thumbs work out tired muscles, and she's glad that her mind wanders off from strategies and responsibilities.

If only for now.


Jeanne and Eric return as the noon sun begins sinking behind the trees.

Poppy sees them as she's helping hang laundry to dry. Maigo is quiet by her side—but as her head turns, his eyes follow.

He goes off, and Poppy doesn't need to ask to know he's looking for Anne.

"How'd it go?"

Jeanne rolls her shoulders in circles. "I'm tired, but we scouted a few routes. Eric pointed out that we could have people in the trees shooting people down."

Poppy accepts this summary with ease. She hears Anne's voice drifting closer and closer towards them. Her captain trots up to them, motioning for them to debrief with Hyoji.

They start moving, and Anne stops, "Eric-san, you as well. You're more knowledge than Jeanne concerning the details, so we'd like you expertise."

The man nods, and they crowd into Hyoji's tent.

Hyoji doesn't bother inviting them to sit, but puffs at the pipe dangling from his lips.

"Eric, how'd it go?" He breaths out a cloud of smoke.

The man's eyebrows furrow deeply. He brushes a strand of auburn hair away from his face. Poppy sees grey amongst the red. "Well. We know the trees here. I'm not too concerned about that. However, they have rifles. They could snipe us easily, Hyoji."

"Fair point." Hyoji meets Anne's eyes.

Anne strokes her chin. "My crew and I can be on the ground for the most part—expect Jeanne. She's more long-range anyways, so I'd like to take advantage of that. You have people skilled in hand-to-hand?"

Hyoji cringes. "We're hunters for the most part. But we do have a few men who know their way around a knife."

Anne crouches over the island map spread wide across Hyoji's earthen floor. "Not what I wanted to hear, but it'll do. Do we have any estimations for how many Marines we're talking about here?"

"About a hundred." Eric answers. Hyoji gives him a slightly disbelieving look. "I've been scouting the town everyday. I see people come and go and mingle. They muster every morning as well. Numbers are easy when they list 'em out."

"So a standard company for a low-ranked captain in the Blues. Good to know. Thank you, Eric."

He grunts in reply.

"Captain, how're we getting them out of town?" Poppy hated to be the debby-downer, but Anne's previous answer hadn't been quite satisfactory to her, and she doubted it was to Hyoji either.

"At dawn, I'll go in and raise some hell." She says entirely too casually. "When I said a day, I meant it. I trust you'll be ready at daybreak and in your places. I'll make 'em come out, one way or another."

Maigo grumbles. "You're being reckless again."

"Maybe. Better me than anyone else, though."

Poppy doesn't like how no one disagrees with the statement, but can't really find a reasonable reply to refute it. She purses her lips. "I don't like it, Cap."

"I know, Poppy. But I've messed with enough Marines in my day to know their MO. Don't worry about me."

"Too late."

She's glad Anne sighs, because it meant she was doing her job.

"Alright." Hyoji taps his spent tobacco into an ash tray. "We've already started the preparations—bows, arrows, stakes. The works."

"Eric, you make traps often?" Anne chirps suddenly.

"I do."

"Can we get some set up at the edges of the forest, where it meets the town? You have enough men for that?"

"I've got four or five I would trust with the job."

Anne nods. "Alright. Add that to the list as well. Maigo, you help the elderly, children, and anyone unable to fight onto our ship, alright?"

Maigo hums in the affirmative.

"Jeanne, if you could conjure up some illusions of ships burning at the dock, that's be grand. Also, more men to scare those shitheads."

"Aye."

"Poppy, help with preparations. You'll be on the ground with those fists of yours."

"Can do, Cap."

Hyoji's pipe wafts more fragrant smoke into the room. "Any other assignments for your crew, Anne.

Poppy's Captain shakes her head, confidently, and it's the first time she seriously considers Anne to be and entirely competent leader.

"I'll see you all in the morning. I'm going to scout the town myself."

Anne ducks out of the tent.

Poppy's gaze lingers after her, and the crew of the Vyssini Zeyphr share a collective look.

They had a long night ahead of them.