Aquavista came alive with the dawn. Nets heavy with silver fish swung from cranes, gulls screeched overhead, and children splashed barefoot along the piers chasing crabs between the planks. The salty breeze carried the scent of grilled mackerel and brine.
Hunter stretched wide on the dock, breathing it all in. "This island smells like heaven!"
Emily tugged him back before he toppled into the sea. "It smells like fish. Don't exaggerate."
"Fish is heaven," Hunter declared, ignoring her.
The crew spent the day weaving through the market streets. Stalls displayed polished shells, ropes of dried kelp, and spears carved for the sea. Old women bartered loudly, and fishermen boasted about their catch.
James walked slightly apart, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded but sharp. His accent drew stares whenever he bothered to ask a question. "Not much discipline in their knots," he muttered once, glancing at a pile of tangled nets.
"Oi," Vince growled. "Are you criticizing fishermen now?"
James didn't look at him. "Just an observation. You'd be surprised how much a detail like that can sink a ship."
Vince's jaw tightened. Hunter whistled, sliding between them. "Boys, boys! No fighting on a fishing island. We'll scare the crabs."
They ended up in a small eatery near the harbor where a cook, hearing James complain about bland soup, shoved him the ladle and said, "Do better, then." James did, and by the end half the tavern was lined up for a taste of his broth.
"Unbelievable," Emily muttered as James passed her a bowl. "You really can cook."
James gave a small shrug, almost smug. "Of course."
Even Vince had to admit—quietly—that it wasn't half bad.
The day rolled by, the crew drawing curious eyes from locals who'd already heard rumors of their fight with the U.I.C. Fishermen muttered about "the rogues who stood up for even a dead enemy's name," though none dared approach.
By evening, Ryder tended to his goats on the dock, murmuring to them as if they'd scold him for staying this long. Emily charted courses with furrowed brows. Vince sharpened his blades, James adjusted the redstone pistols with delicate precision, and Hunter leaned on the rail, watching the sunset bleed across the sea.
He grinned. "Alright. Time to shove off."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "We just got here."
"Exactly. If we stay too long, I'll eat this whole island."
With supplies loaded and nets of dried fish stored, the little boat creaked back into the tide. Aquavista's lanterns shrank in the darkening distance, voices fading into the crash of waves.
James sat near the bow, arms folded, face unreadable. Vince kept glancing at him, distrust still simmering. Emily sighed, already predicting trouble. Ryder clutched his goats like lifelines.
And Hunter, steering them badly but smiling wide, shouted into the sea air:
"Shaders! Next stop—adventure!"
The ocean swallowed his voice, carrying them onward into night.
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