For the rest of that day and two days hence the Scavengers trained, exercises ranging from the maintenance of simple strength and endurance, to running entry and clearance drills through the streets of the town, always with mixed amusement and irritation from the residents. Whatever the weather, however the hangover, they were out in the world practicing their craft, and in those three days they were all pleasantly surprised to find that Puffin took to it all without complaint. What’s more, she had the makings of truly meshing with the others.

The girl’s claim of being a proficient climber had not been exaggerated. With lithe, deft movements, she could get atop any building in the town in seconds and would have climbed the entire damn mountain if Goose had not worried she would fall and break her neck. Her martial skills had been shown as non-existent but she was willing to learn at least.

‘Grouse watch th’ stairs, Sparrow an’ Peacock take th’ lower, Puffin upstairs wi’ me,’ Goose whispered, hunched over with the rest of them. ‘Ware th’ fore and go!’

With a meaty thump he kicked the door open in one mighty blow, following through with pistols drawn, his newest recruit a step behind with an exhilarated grin. Grouse came behind, musket up and trained on the staircase, Sparrow and Peacock slipping round her to pile through the empty barroom in a rush for the snugs. Sveigir, the landlord, watched impassively from the counter. He was happy enough to give over his establishment for training so long as nothing got broken.

First door, clear, second, clear, third, a sailor in a red hat was swinging a length of wood at her. ‘Bang!’ Sparrow shouted, her carbine pointed at the man’s chest. He collapsed to the floor, groaning theatrically. Precious little powder meant there was only enough to be fired in anger, and training exercises needed to get creative. There was a brief crackle and a yelp from next door as Peacock found his own target, hitting them with a restrained spark of power. A quick glance around the room and Sparrow was back out, colliding with the mage as he came back the other way.

‘Watch it!’ she snapped.

‘You watch it, I was already here!’ he retorted.

Bastard... Sparrow bit back her words and turned on her heel, back into the barroom, ignoring Grouse’s questioning glance.

‘Clear,’ she grunted, taking up a watch position at the entrance.

Three more “shots” from upstairs, two Goose’s stentorian report and the third an over-enthusiastic shriek from Jenta.

‘Five, that’s the lot,’ Peacock commented, lowering his stance and smirking.

‘There’s six,’ Sparrow replied.

‘No there aren’t.’

‘Yes. There are. Goose clearly roped in six of Cursed’s lot to help.’

‘No, I’m pretty sure there are five.’

‘Six,’ Sparrow snapped, rounding on the man.

‘What’s gotten into you! There’s five!’

‘I’m telling you there’s six!’

‘Then where’s the-’

‘BANG!’ Grouse’s shout was over-loud, deliberately so, and caused the bickering pair to jump like startled cats when she “fired” from so close. Over at the bar, a sailor swooned melodramatically and draped herself across the bar. Sveigir prodded her until she moved out of his way.

Grouse lowered her musket and looked at the other two. ‘You done?’

Sparrow looked at her then back to Peacock, contemplated hitting him, then growled and pushed her way out of the inn.

‘Where are you going?’ Peacock shouted after her.

‘For a walk,’ Aina snapped back.

Goose found her perched on a barrel in the market place, watching the stalls being set up for the afternoon market, colourful canvas and gaudy wood fulfilling a tradition that dated back from before the island was settled. It was a relic of a different time, a snapshot to the old world, preserved for posterity. It reminded her of why they protected this place; at least someone should be allowed to keep on as they had before.

‘You don’t have to like ‘im.’

‘Never came into anything.’

Self-reflection was a harsh creature. What had started with Agata had led her here, ready to stick her head in a hole out of self-pity and frustration.

Never needed to like him to let him betwixt my legs.

‘I know, cuffin.’ Sitting on the muddy cobbles next to her, he still managed to loom. His craggy brows were knotted in concern as one weathered hand stroked his chin. He didn’t just know, but he knew. Can’t keep secrets on a ship, nor a tiny island. ‘But I need you t’ fight together. I need t’ know that when sailing gets choppy, yur both going t’ be fine. I want t’ worry about myself, not you looby loons.’

‘Aye, chief.’ Easier said than done.

‘Aye, chief,’ Goose mimicked, meeting her shocked expression with a lopsided grin. ‘Words’re fine, but action is what I want. Save yur bickering for Aina and Alvard, not Sparrow and Peacock.’

‘Aye, chief,’ was all Aina could say in response.

Goose shook his head and silently watched as Kal the farmer spilled a barrow-full of cabbages on the street, swearing loudly and moving to push a nearby mule away from his precious cargo.

‘Considering everything, if yur problems amount to spilled veg,’ he looked at her, ‘Or romantic entanglements, then yur doing quite well all told.’

He had a point.

‘Knew men like ‘im afore I got hitched meself,’ Goose continued, letting slip part of his old life that seldom surfaced. ‘Not worth gettin' all akimbo over.’

‘You aren’t the first person to say that.’

‘Then th’ other person knows their stuff.’

They watched silently as Kal recovered what heads he could, occasionally fending away that persistent and marauding beast, eventually gripping his barrow and continuing on his way.

‘Goose?’

‘Aye?’

‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

‘Being you.’

The man smiled and patted her on the leg. It was like getting hit by an oar. ‘Least I could do, cuffin.’