Chapter Three: The Island
"Well, what be this?" Traug asked himself. "My old island! Never thought I'd find it again."
The steers ferret shouted at his captain. "Where do we land, cap'n?"
"Anywhere!" he shouted back. "The entire island is steep as Hell's walls! This is a good a spot as any, ferret!"
Turn around... Go away...
"Wuzzat, mate?" Traug asked, to nobody in particular. Several crew members cast him wary glances. "Mus' be hearing things... been a while since any of us saw land, anyhow."
No... this is no longer... Traug's island...
The ferret captain was puzzled. Nobody else seemed to be hearing the voice. Though it sounded familiar, he just couldn't place it. "Oh well," he said to himself. "Just git climbing..."
It was a long and grueling climb to the top of the sheer cliffs. Having anchored the Marauder's Solitude, her crew tied ropes to sturdy-looking rocks and began the treacherous climb up. Several fell into the water behind, but luckily their rope was often saved by a quick-fingered climber near them. It was nearly midday when they assembled at the top. Five of the already-small crew had been left behind to guard the boat, and four had fallen. A score and some crewbeasts were left with Traug at midday.
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"Fan out, crew!" he ordered. "Search this here spit o' rock. Anybody who don't come back better be a fast runner, too!"
The small crowd broke up, and they spread out, checking around for any sign of, well, anything. But not one rat, ferret, or weasel found any other creature, or sign of habitation. Several lizards scurried by, but they were soon skewered on a dagger blade for fun.
Meanwhile, Traug sat and waited. The scraggly, dried-up trees provided little shade, and the captain's discomfort grew. The sun rose high into the blue sky, and the heat became unbearable. Scratching an arrow into the dirt, the captain went to go find a source of water.
Along the way, Traug met several crew members headed back to the cliffs. Each and ever one turned back around the moment they saw him. The captain paid them no mind; fear was his weapon, and he was quite used to this sort of thing. Hacking through the fallen trees, the ferret soon found what he'd been looking for.
A pool of water, flowing from the small hills further on. Crystal clear and cold, it dripped from the pool into a cave below. Handholds had been carved into the rock, by the captain on his first time down there. Taking off his sword belt, daggers, and hat, Traug jumped into the half-lit crevice.
The freezing liquid made him gasp as he hit. But soon he was enjoying himself, once his body had adapted to the water temperature. The ferret took a large drink, glad to be back in the presence of unsalted and unrationed water. Floating on his back, the captain looked up the hole. Something was peering down at him.
"Who're you?" he asked lazily. A slingstone missed his head by a fly's wingspan.