The village was a secluded thing, hidden in brush on one of the most isolated areas of the world. The villagers themselves were simple people for the most part. Wise in their own ways of the land and how to survive in one of the most deadly islands known to man, yet naive on many of the goings on tied to the rest of the world.

Zecora was wise in many ways the others were not.

Her father was the chief before her, as was his father before him, and as such, they were required to aspire to even greater heights of knowledge than the normal men and women of her tribe. Her father’s father traveled, bringing dozens of books back to her tribe. Her father became one of the strongest warriors the tribe had even seen, and one of the best trackers since the days before them all, and the legends shrouded in mystery, names and allusions to their accomplishments the only trace of her people from then. Herself? She walked many paths in her time. She stood proud as a warrior, as a scholar, as a medicine woman. There was one path she had not walked yet, however.

A woman carrying a large clay jar upon her head walked past Zecora, saying a greeting in their rhyming, gentle-toned tongue. Zecora smiled and returned the greeting, before walking with purpose to a small straw-coated house made of bamboo shoots. She entered, speaking a small apology to a weary old woman wrapped in shawls. The woman responded in kind, apologizing somberly for wasting the tribal chief’s time. Zecora shooed her concerns away with a gentle brush of the older woman’s hair, speaking in a gentle coo to reassure her. She moved over to the old man on the bed.

His true name was lost to Zecora and had been for years. When she was a child, the other children and herself called him Babi Babo. Babi meaning grandfather, which he was to several of the children in flesh, and all of the children in spirit; Babo for baboon, which he reminded them of with his wide nose and unkempt silver-grey hair.

He took in several shallow, phlegm-filled breaths, hacking and turning toward her, his rheumy eyes taking her in before a hand reached to her, brushing her hair to the side, and running a thumb over one of the hundreds of scars her body held, each a testament to her people. He leaned back onto the bed and spoke quietly the woman’s name. She made her way over to Zecora and Babi, and Babi weakly, weakly gestured for her to come closer. She leaned over to his mouth, her ear almost resting against his lips. Zecora felt a small pang of empathy grace her, reminding her of the path she herself had not taken yet, but otherwise showed no outward emotion.

On finishing, he shut his lips and closed his eyes. The woman stepped back, biting one of her knuckles as he took in Babi’s emasculated body and Zecora stepped forward, knowing what she needed to do.

She spoke the quiet chants of her people as he lay upon the bed. From what she had gathered, there was a similar ritual to the people who followed Elondrie’s light. She never bore witness to it, but from her studies, it seemed true.

Zecora reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a small mortar and pestle. She mixed a collection of green a black herbs together, her quiet chanting and the grinding of the stone the only sound in the hut. When the herbs were ground into a fine powder, Zecora added a dab of water and stirred the concoction until it was a thick black paste. She took two of her fingers in it and trailed them over Babi’s sunken cheekbones, leaving two parallel lines. Zecora then added more water to the mixture, giving it the consistency of soup, which she brought to Babi’s mouth.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded, swallowing the mixture. Babi clenched his teeth, shut his eyes and gave one hard convulsion, before laying still, breathing no more.

Zecora shared a look with his wife, putting an arm around her wispy frame for a moment, speaking quiet condolences to her loss. When the old woman finally had the strength to stand on her own, Zecora gave her a gentle peck on the cheek to comfort her and left the tent. She passed by a few of the younger boys at camp. She told them about the body, then went right away to remove it. Babi would be buried by his father, at the western edge of the village.

Moving back to her own home, she entered and lit dozens of herbs with a weak, small flame she made with a quick brush of her knife over a flint. As the aroma filled the room, she sat, cross-legged on the dirt and reached for a small clay bowl filled with a fine white powder. Zecora chanted a familiar tone to her, a requiem for the dead, and brought the blade close to her body. Without hesitation, she drew the blade across a thigh, drawing blood. As it lazily fell down her dark skin, she took a thumb, licked it, then coated it with the powder, before wiping it across the cut. In a matter of seconds, the wound closed up, leaving behind another white lined scar on her body to match the dozens, almost hundreds of others on her, each a reminder, each a name the chieftain was obligated to carry and know. Every part of her dedicated to her tribe and its well-being.

She stood, walking to her makeshift bed, and lay down on it, briefly acknowledging its size. Her father was a larger man than her, and that left the bed far more empty when she was on it.

No, that is not quite right, she thought. It is only truly empty at night.

Zecora stared up at the ceiling, a hand opening and shutting one of the buttons on her jacket. The woman--the Princess, as the man Lew was quick to state--had intrigued Zecora. There was no speaking against that. She carried herself well. Like a true warrior. Honest, uncompromising, brave. In many ways, Zecora saw parts of her father when she gazed at the princess.

Well, there were other parts of the woman that drew her attention as well…

Zecora brushed that thought away, though it admittedly lingered far longer than she cared for it to. But at the same time, how could she just throw those thoughts to the side? Their entire people were one of the most intriguing things that had happened to their island for a long time. The pirates, there had always been men like that. Her father had said to her once that there would always be vultures, beasts that prey on weakness. They came before, and would come after. But the others? The men who sought solace on her people’s island? They were something unusual for these lands. They intrigued her. She intrigued her. And if the island and its bounties were hers and her peoples, then so too should the princess be hers. Provided she strived for her, that is. It was not different than hunting, when Zecora put it in perspective. Their Luna was like a jungle cat, piercing eyes and deadly claws. Yet also a certain deadly sensuality to her as well. Grace in motion and beauty at rest.

Zecora chuckled at her own analogy, the mental image doing well to take her thoughts away from Babi, at least for the moment. She rose, and left her hut to breath in the morning air by the town’s fire.

From the north came the murmur of dozens of villagers, their speech frantic, urgent as they seemed to run in every direction. Zecora hesitated for only a moment, briefly considering the spear in her hut, before forgoing it and rushing to her people.

The trip to Zecora’s village was quiet, but tense with an atmosphere that was half curious excitement and half trepidation at what was to come. Lew was glad for this--twice he had made a mistake in his nervousness, losing the path Zecora had explained to him. Thankfully, the princess seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts to comment, if she even noticed.

The path drove on more or less parallel to the coast, passing from the rocky, open ground into the strange woods that seemed so randomly distributed on the island. It became easier there, as a clear path had been made, twisting and turning this way and that. On the other side, they came to much larger hills, which slowed them down, making them work up quite a sweat in the increasing heat.

From the top of the hill, Lew could easily make out the signal that led to the hidden village. A lone tree, scorched and broken from a bolt of lightning, pointed the way, but looked as if it simply had fallen in the spot naturally.

Down the hill brought to view a break in between the rocky sides of another. It was through this passage that Zecora had said her village lay. And after they passed through, it was here Lew got his first look at the place, surrounded by the wall behind them and the high brush all around.

It was a strange thing in a way, something so orderly existing amidst the chaos, but that’s truly what the village was, a safe haven against the chaos outside the natural walls. Circular, with huts at regular, almost clocklike intervals, some traditional things made of straw, grass and wood that reminded Lew of a few bits and pieces of information he had read in his studies, and others made from improvised materials, sheets of metal, bits of rope tying it together, straw for insulation. Children chattered in their native tongue in a corner nearby, splashing at a water pump that had seen its fair years of use. Up ahead at the center of the village was a large bonfire, a place of community where many of their meals were cooked, and where many celebrations happened during the colder seasons, according to Zecora’s words.

It was all very quaint and homey, in a real, unique way, not the tacky and manufactured way that so often brought about those words. However, it didn’t take long before Lew noticed something odd.

“Where is everyone?” he asked suddenly, realization kicking in.

“If I am not mistaken, I believe I hear a large gathering at the other end of the village,” replied Luna, continuing forward in the direction she’d indicated.

They rushed between homes and quickly saw a crowd formed around one of the largest buildings in the village. It was mostly comprised of people of the same dark complexion as Zecora--these turned and looked at Lew and Luna for just a moment before they let them pass--but Lew also saw his men scattered amongst them. He stopped when they neared the entrance, pulling one to him.

“Raleigh, report. What’s going on here?”

With a quick salute, the middle-aged man said, “I’m not entirely sure, sir. None of us saw nothin’, and these fine people speak the damndest tongue. But one o’ the men says they found somethin’, carried it here. Or maybe a pirate scout.” He spit at the ground. “That one lady--Zecora--said we should let you and the princess in when you arrived.”

“Good man.” He clapped the soldier on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you all what’s up in a moment. Lady,” he said, bowing his head to Luna as he stood aside so she could enter first.

Taking the hint, Luna complimented the soldier as she entered, Lew hot on her heels. The inside was large, spacious, as it was just one room. Heavy shades on the window kept the hot sun out, with slits at the top to allow heat to escape. Three different fireplaces suggested their solution for when the weather turned cold.

All along the back wall were low beds, with grass walls that could be moved between them. Lew wasn’t entirely sure what the place could possibly be used for. It was too large for just a home, and there was little more than the line of beds.

“A hospital,” Luna said quietly. “Something of a surprise, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

“Yeah it’s—” he started to say when Zecora’s voice said, “Come my friends, please be a dear, I’d like to see you over here.”

The pair found her standing next to one of the beds. Which, as they approached, they found was occupied by a very large man. Lew blinked. The man almost looked like…

“No! It’s not… There’s just no way,” he said, rubbing at his forehead, a grin splitting his face.

“Is there something that you’d like to say? The emotions on your face betray,” Zecora remarked, her hand working a mortar and pestle easily as she walked along the bed and took stock of the two.

“He… seems familiar to my recollection, yes,” said Luna, curious. “And he is no native. Nor pirate.”

“That’s because he’s a farmer,” Lew said, matter-of-factly. “His name is Macintosh Apple--you remember Jack Apple? This is her older brother. Big Mac, everyone calls him.”

“Oh yes! The big Apple, I remember seeing him during one of my visits. A very quiet sort, but by all accounts a noble soul.”

“‘Big’ you say, is quite true, I say. His height is as obvious as the day.” Zecora put a finger into the mixture she was stirring, and put a small dab to her tongue. She nodded, then moved to the back wall and added a small vial to the mix and stirred it. Zecora dipped her finger into it again and put it into her mouth before nodding once more.

“So what in Elondrie’s name is he doing her?” Lew asked. “It makes no sense.”

“Do not ponder when you have an answer-filled up,” Zecora replied. “Simply ask when I wake him up.”

“How long has he been out?”

“Since you and your princess went away. If I had to estimate, I’d say midday.”

“Indeed?” Luna said, raising a curious eyebrow. “That seems interesting timing. Perhaps there is something more to this than just odd happenstance.”

Lew nodded. “I’m incredibly curious, myself.” He nodded at Zecora, saying, “We appreciate this, Zecora.”

“Is it not custom within your lands, to aid and provide a near-drowned man?” She quirked a brow, then brushed a dismissive hand in front of her. “I simply jest. My humor may be dry, as my tribe can attest.”

“I think he simply means that a little caution in these uncertain times would not be out of line,” explained Luna. “But perhaps our own recent troubles have made us think too practical.”

“A pragmatic life is one hard to do,” she replied, glancing over to Luna. “I’ve experienced it, believe me you.”

“As have I,” replied Luna quietly.

The captain looked from the tribal warrior to his princess, curiosity on one and the shadow of the past on the other. He forced out a small laugh, saying, “Well, I for one can not wait any longer. You were going to bring Mac around, you said?”

“Indeed,” Zecora agreed. “Let’s return him from the dead.”

She took the fine powder she had crafted and placed it in a modestly ornate dish. Thumbing through her jacket, she produced a worn, dinged lighter, which she flicked on after several attempts. She held the flame underneath the dish, and soon the room was filled with a peculiar scent of ammonia and ginger. She held the dish under Macintosh’s nose. The large man twitched, then inhaled deeply, snapping awake and coughing at the harsh scent. Zecora flicked the lighter shut and put the dish on a side table next to the bed. Mac weakly rose to a side, resting on an arm as he tried to get his bearings. Finally free from the dumbness of sleep, he looked around him.

“Where…?” he drawled out, clutching at his head.

“I’ll leave you three to talk,” Zecora remarked. “Your princess can tell me the details later during a walk.” With that, she sauntered past the two and left outside.

Macintosh finally rose to a full sit. Taking just a moment to think, he then threw his legs over the side of the bed and rose, only to stumble down to a knee.

Lew, expecting nothing less, rushed forward and offered the farmer his shoulder, saying, “Whoah there, Mac, easy. Get back on the bed for a bit.”

Mac took it and hoisted himself up and back on the bed. After another moment to collect his thoughts, Mac let a snort of humor out. “All sorts of damn questions. Like they’re bottleneckin’ in my skull.” Taking another breath he looked at the two. “I guess I should ask where I am first. An’, uh, excuse me fer not bowin’, princess. I ain’t never been good at rememberin’ formalities.” He narrowed his brow. “Nah, hell with where I’m at, either of y’all seen Alice?”

The captain looked to Luna, who simply shrugged. Turning back to Mac, he said, “Alice, your youngest sister, right? Surely… Are you feeling alright, Mac? I don’t see any head wounds, but you never know.”

“I suspect he’s made of tougher stuff than that,” said Luna, amused. “You said it yourself, Captain—him being here makes little sense. But if he was on a quest after a missing Apple?”

“It would answer that question, yeah. Is that why you’re in the Rim, Mac? Is Alice here, too?”

The man nodded. “It’s a hell of a long story. Things back on the mainland have gotten worse. A lot worse.” He stared at Luna. “Yer sister’s nuttier than squirrel shit.”

Lew winced, expecting an angry tirade. But Luna laughed, and laughed hard. He simply stared; it was unusual, to see that much mirth on her face.

“That is certainly—” The princess started between laughs. “Certainly a unique way of describing it. Oh do not look so mortified, Captain. Can we possibly disagree? There is no other explanation save that my sister has taken leave of all her senses.” Her laughing fit quieting, she told Mac, “I had hoped she might come free of it but… I see our lack of information is even worse than we suspected.”

“Mac, my sister… How is she?” Lew asked, worried.

“She’s with mine, Twila’s—” Mac started to tell Lew what they had been doing for the last few months, but decided to stop himself, wanting to ease Lew’s concern. “She’s fine. Keepin’ her head ducked low, like all of us. Save fer my lil’ sister.”

“I told you it was foolish to worry, Captain. Your sister is perhaps more capable than all of us.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Yeah, she is. Well, Mac, we’re not really going anywhere for now, so if you don’t mind telling us what’s going on, maybe the Guard can give you a hand.”

“Alice got it inta her head ta try and find Luna, so she snuck off while we were all sleepin’, an’ came down here lookin’ fer ya.” He pursed his lips. “Somehow, pirates got involved with her.”

“There’s little else around here, I’m afraid,” said Lew. “But damn--she managed to get all the way down here on her own? That’s impressive. And a fair bit scary.”

“Yer tellin’ me,” Mac said. “I managed ta find her by accident, but, well…” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “I couldn’t get her off the ship. They ended up bootin’ me inta the ocean an’ I got washed ashore. Got lucky. Real lucky.”

“I’ll say. They dropped you off the coast of probably the only inhabited island in the entire Rim. This small tribe are the ones who found you--we only just got here, ourselves.”

“Those pirate fellas know yer here, I take it?” Mac crossed his arms, frowning a bit as he glanced to the side.

“It has been a harrowing time for us,” replied Luna. “They seem to think I am worth no small amount of reward to my sister. Thankfully, they are fools, especially to the Captain’s well-disciplined Guard.”

“We’ve been lucky just as often as not,” Lew said, grimly. “It’s not a situation I’d like to perpetuate for too much longer. We’re actually going to take the fight back to them soon, now that the locals here are on our side.”

“Locals?” Mac repeated. “On the Rim?”

“I know, I found it hard to swallow at first myself. But it’s true--one even speaks our language thanks to an old Elondrie missionary. The pirates have apparently been using them for sport while they look for us.”

He shook his head. “An’ what are ya gonna do when they find ya? There a plan?”

“The plan, my large Apple, is to no longer play this game of cat and mouse.” Luna put on a wicked grin. “Tonight we discuss specifics, but the goal is already known: We shall take the fight to the pirates, and return to our homeland so that we might save it.”

“Count me in,” Mac replied, putting a hand to his neck and twisting his head until he heard a satisfying pop come from his body. “I’m gonna have ta fight through ‘em ta get Alice back anyway, an’ I reckon yer gonna need all the hands ya can get.”

“Your assistance is gladly accepted, Apple. You should rest for now, but you will be invited for our planning later this evening.” Turning to Lew, she said, “I shall go to our host and report my success. I’ll trust the men to you, Captain.”

Saluting, he replied, “Yes, my lady! We’ll be ready.”

“Very good.” And with that, she left the building, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Don’t worry, Mac. We’ll get your sister back and see you both home safe.”

“I’m countin’ on you an’ yer boys ta do jus’ that,” Mac replied. “Savin’ her is the only thing that matters right now.”

“I understand,” Lew said, quietly. “Well, you rest up. I’m going to check on the others. I’ll come get you when it’s time to plan.”

“Eyup.” Mac nodded, leaning back on the bed and shutting his eyes. He frowned a bit at how his feet hung over the base of the bed, but said nothing, his only thoughts on the matter homesick ones, where he had a bed that fit him and the world was, if not safe than at least safer.