Hellfire

Connall

Sunlight streamed through the clouds, breaking them up in the early morning. Connall had always been an early riser, and his habit was unbroken as he made himself a cup of tea in the ship's tiny kitchen. He silently walked up the stairs and onto the deck, surveying the sea stained golden by the sunrise. Quietly, he sat, enjoying the waves lapping against the hull, and the crying of the gulls fishing. They dove closer and closer to the boat, and he reasoned that a school of fish must be nearing them. Way out towards the horizon line, he saw a dark shape spearing for the ship. He sniffed at the wind carrying the dark mass towards him, and found Morgan flapping above the waves. He laughed quietly, and waited until she landed. She was carrying a burlap sack full of fish and she nodded to Connall as she began to descend to the galley.

"Did you catch those in the same method as the gulls, or did your technique have a bit more finesse?" he called after her.

She stopped, chuckling quietly. "I would like to think the second, but you'd have to ask the gulls to get your answer," she responded, golden eyes dancing as she glanced back at him before disappearing entirely. He laughed under his breath, sipping his tea. A sharper cry pierced the sound of the waves, and Connall looked up to see a hawk circling above the gulls. He smirked. Predators becoming prey. He was about to take another sip of tea when realization clanged through him. He stood up quickly, eyes searching for the hawk he had seen seconds ago, dropping his tea to the floorboards. Please, please, he begged. Then he remembered. This ship was from Maeve. It likely was cloaked and shielded from prying eyes. He knew what he had to do. He scanned the deck, and found some rope coiled against the side. He tied it twice around his waist, shifted into his wolf form, and jumped into the water. If that hawk was Rowan, which Connall hoped against hope that it was, he wouldn't see the ship unless someone was outside of the cloaking magic, which Connall was about to be. Rowan must recognize him, he had to. He was a black wolf swimming in the middle of the Great Ocean, goddamnit. Connall panted, swimming perpendicular to the ship, pulling the rope to its maximum length. Come on, come on. Please.