People have always told me that I'm a true hunter. I don't think they'd think that if they knew who I am.
My name is Flora Joveson, and I hunt sea dragons with the crew of the faithful ship Valiant.
Now, before you assume that I wear an eyepatch, pegleg, and pepper my vocabulary with "Yar", let me set something straight. I am the fourth child of the late King Jupiter Goodson, and I refuse to let me, and the crew of vagabonds I've come to call my family, be sorted into that category. Are we clear? Good. Before we start this story, I'd like to give credits to Queen Heather Joveson, who is helping me write this account. I'm an awful writer. She's here making sure I don't leave out any important parts. Thank you, Heather. Now, the fun can begin.
Imagine you're on a ship. It's battered, weathered, and old, but looks as though it could survive anything. The crew is scattered about, busily tying knots, adjusting barrels, and unfurling sails. The kind of buzz you'd expect from a ship just left from port, belly full of newly made weapons and food that isn't yet rotten. You, however, are standing pressed against the rail, staring hard out to sea, because you've just seen something promising.
This is what I was doing the day everything changed.
I'd seen something promising to be certain, a barbed tail the size of a table, rising up out of the ocean just long enough for me to see it before dipping back in.
"Captain!" I shouted across the busy Main Deck, waving to the old, square-shouldered buck who was talking to Second Mate Viles on the Gun Deck. "I've seen somethin'!" There were downsides to living with a group of hunters. I couldn't say that I'd kept my grammar abilities to date in my twelve years on that ship.
"What's the word, Jenkins?" I smiled as the legendary Captain Septimus Snake moved from the gun deck to me in a matter of seconds, coming to a stop next to me. He followed my line of sight to the sea spray about three miles to our left, and his face broke into a grin. It looked out of place on his usually ornery face, but I'd seen it many times.
"Ya' see it?" I muttered, pointing.
"Aye, I see it." Captain Snake clapped me on the shoulder, and called up to Ophelia, who was steering the Valiant at the moment. "Ophie!" He waited for the nod that meant she'd heard him, and continued. "Set a course due southwest. We got ourselves a Sandskin."
A cheer went up around the ship. Sandskins meant good money back in Natalia, but they also meant a good fight to start our fortnight of hunting, something to warm us up, invigorate us.
"Get yer harpoon, Jenkins." Snake looked me in the eye, and placed both hands on my shoulders. "I'm putin' you in charge of this kill." You're probably wondering why he called me Jenkins, and not Joveson. There was a simple explanation for this, of course. Even though I was only ten years old when I joined the Valiant, I knew full well that if I told my real name, I'd be sent right back to First Warren Palace, which was the last place I wanted to be. Daggler had no qualms against terrifying my brothers and I.
"Aye, Cap." Even though inside, my heart was pounding uncontrollably, I remained calm outside, looking my Captain in the eye. "But yer sure ya' don't want ta' put Viles in charge?"
Snake raised an eyebrow. "Which one a' ya' is First Mate?"
"Me," I muttered, turning my head away to hide my smile.
"Well, then there be yer answer. I trust ya, Flora." I nodded. Snake had just called me by my first name, which he commonly did if I'd taken a prank too far, or if he just wanted to talk to me about something serious. That meant that this was no joke, and that whether or not I oversaw the kill of this Sandskin determined if I was really good enough to be the next Captain of the Valiant, and the first doe Captain at that. I knew full well that if I was made next Captain, I'd most likely never again venture farther than the port in my life. I was completely fine with that. I wasn't Flora Joveson any more, I was Flora Jenkins, First Mate to Captain Septimus Snake of the Valiant, Captain in succession. I could't have cared less if no one ever heard from Flora Joveson again, it would have been better if all of Natalia thought she was dead. And as far as I was concerned at that moment, she was. I'd just gotten rid of the last bit of princess that remained inside me, and if I killed this Sandskin, she'd be gone forever. I wanted that with a burning passion. So it was with a fire in my heart that I spun and called to Second Mate Viles on the Gun Deck.
"Ready the Harpooners!"
"Aye, Jenkins." It occurred to me briefly that Snake must have told the rest of the crew I'd be commanding the next kill while I wasn't around, because no one asked why I was giving orders or looked to Snake for confirmation. I was in control of this situation, and the many hours I'd spent watching the Captain command his own kills flooded back to me in a rush of adrenaline. Hunters needed adrenaline like water. Most of the time, it was all that was keeping us alive.
The ship sped towards the tail protruding from the water as I joined Skits in the Crow's Nest, peering at the glare on the water to see if I could tell the size of the Beast. Skits had earned his name from the way he skittered over the rigging like a rat, easily climbing the rigging from the Main Deck to the Crow's Nest in thirty seconds.
Now, he grinned at me, outlined the Sandskin with the tip of his index finger, and nodded. "Looks like a Seven-Toner if I ever saw one," He pulled a small flask from his back pocket. "Drink to a good kill before–"
" –Cause there might not be an after." I finished, taking a swig of mulberry ale and grinning. Of course, I knew there'd be an after, with the years of expirience I'd had. The only difference was that today I was commanding everyone else, too. I knew full well what I was doing, after all. That Sandskin was mine.