Free Blood Storm: The Second Book of Lharmell by Rhiannon Hart Page A

dock. Wiping his mouth he muttered about something he ate. A handful of sailors sniggered from the rigging.
    We found a spot on deck that seemed to be out of everyone’s way and sat down. Leap’s ears were flat, and he had his paws splayed to steady himself against the rocking of the boat. Griffin was in the rigging, hunched up with slitted eyes as several gulls swooped around her. Rodden was still an unnatural colour. He slumped against the rabbit hutch and put a hand over his eyes.
    Several sailors grinned at me as they passed and gave me cheery hellos, clearly pleased to have a female on board. I helloed back, and shielded my eyes fromthe sun to watch them shimmy up the rigging. Rodden managed to open his eyes long enough to glare at them. Turning to me he said, ‘Stop distracting them from their work.’
    ‘I’m not. Don’t puke on the rabbits.’
    From the helm the captain gave the call to cast off, rather too loudly and with lots of flinging of his arms. All manner of garbled instructions poured from his mouth but the sailors seemed to understand well enough. The sails filled, the ship gave a lurch and we were away. There was a bit of tricky manoeuvring to be done to get past the other ships but the captain seemed to be managing it well enough, though his tongue was poking out the corner of his mouth as he spun the wheel to and fro.
    We’d been going less than a minute when Rodden leaned over the side and threw up again.
    ‘Do you get seasick?’ I asked, passing him the water skin.
    ‘Yes,’ he said thickly. ‘I thought I might have grown out of it by now but apparently not.’ He rinsed his mouth and spat into the sea.
    I, on the other hand, felt perfectly fine. I wasn’t quite ready to feel sorry for him so I left him where he was. His moans and retching followed me all the way to the prow of the ship. We were sailing west,straight into the setting sun. The tor-line tugged at me as we pulled out of port, but I felt strong enough to ignore the pain.
    Leap jumped up onto a crate next to me and peered over the railing. He gave the sea a long, hard, distrustful glare. Then, apparently deciding that was enough to keep the sea down there and him up here where it was dry, he looked up into my face and purred.
    I wondered if he knew he was going home, if he would remember Pol. His history was unknown to me and I didn’t even know if he had been born there. It occurred to me that, once we arrived, he might even want to stay. Patting his sleek fur, I knew the noble part of me would be happy for Leap if that was what he decided. But the rest of me would be terribly sad without him.

    I woke the next morning to screaming gulls and the smell of porridge and seawater. I’d spent the night stretched on my cloak with Leap’s warm body curled against me and my new poncho covering both of us. By midnight Rodden had thoroughly expelled the contents of his stomach and managed to fall asleep.He awoke looking very drawn and unhappy and refused water, breakfast or blood. I left him dozing in the shade and went to get some porridge.
    The sailors were excessively polite, urging me to the front of the line and fetching a bowl and spoon for me. The cook was a tall, thin man with auburn hair and wide-set eyes. There was something familiar about his aspect. I realised when I turned away what it was – he reminded me of home. He was Amentine. Before I could go back and say hello properly, the first mate, Orrik Lobsen, introduced himself.
    ‘Best ship on the Osseran, the Jessamine ,’ he said proudly. He was about Rodden’s age, and sandy-haired and robust. ‘It’ll be a smooth passage to Pol, mark my words.’
    We sat on a bench near the captain’s cabin with our breakfast. Loud snores emanated from within; the captain was still abed.
    ‘He was up most of the night,’ Orrik explained. ‘Right now it ain’t safe when the sun goes down. Been attacks. He likes to stay up and keep an eye on things.’
    I wondered if it also