His head still spinning some, Lew muttered the first thing that came to mind. “B-boy? I’m n-not a boy, damn it.” He closed his eyes, trying to focus. Opening them again, he adjusted for his vision being upside down and examined the trickster more closely.

He could see it was a woman, rather than the man he had suspected. Cadence would give me hell for that, he thought automatically. Her skin was dark--darker than any he had ever seen, and he had been around. He might’ve called her Somani, but she was far too small. More curious than that, white scars the width of a pen cascaded in horizontal streaks down her body, going from her face, past her bare--and well cut--torso, along down the one visible leg he could see under her blackened sarong.

She stood, one hand on the hilt of a knife, and the other briefly reaching to touch a pocket on the unzipped flack jacket she wore. Lewin briefly looked away when he noticed the only thing she wore to cover her sizable chest under the open jacket was a furred bra. She paid his brief distraction no mind, instead pulling out a small crinkled and warped package of gum from her vest--no doubt a prize from some conquest or another--and briefly chewed a piece as she looked at the royal guardsman.

“A man is not the one I see, if he fell into his own trap for me,” she replied in her thick accent, adjusting the belt she wore around the shoulder--Lew could see the tip of a primitive, but well-kept spear peaking out from behind her long, free-falling hair.

She’s got you there, he told himself. Now what, genius? “Uh... Who are you? What are you? Pirate?” he asked carefully.

“I assure you, I wish to see no blood on the sand. My tribe merely lives upon this land. The ones you slaughter without remorse--they’re a far cry from our course.”

That upset him. “Don’t judge me! I do what I have to--those men make their choice, and I get to live with the--” He cut off, his mind registering something. “Why--why are you speaking in rhyme?”

She wryly smiled, putting a thumb to the side of her narrow mouth in thought. “This tongue I speak is a foreign beast--I learned your language from a passing priest. My rhymes are a bridge between, and help to keep my sword-words keen.”

“That makes sense... I guess...” He chewed his lip, thoughtful. “A traveling priest? Of Elondrie? And you said Torani is foreign to you... Do you...” He almost couldn’t believe it. “You live here? Here? In the Rim?”

She nodded without hesitation. “My fathers and the ones before, had the ocean as a house and the islands as a door. The dirt upon here you stand, is where I reside with my own band.”

“But...” He couldn’t seem to find the right words--plus he was beginning to suffer from hanging upside so long. “L-look, can you get me down from here? It’s hard enough with your rhyming, but I’m starting to see spots.”

“If you are seeing spots, perhaps you should connect the dots,” she easily replied. With a fluid flick of her wrist, she unsheathed her knife and propelled it through the sky, cutting through the rope holding Lew up.

Before he could protest, Lew found himself falling with a cry of, “Dammit!” Luckily, he managed to shift his weight just in time, landing on his shoulder to go into a roll. While taking no injury, Lew still found the breath knocked out of him from the impact. He sat on the ground, heaving a couple of deep breaths. The strange woman simply stood, giving him an almost comical smile.

“Don-- Ugh, don’t look so... so amused,” he coughed out. “...and thanks.”

“Your thanks are not needed, my young friend.” She easily walked over, offering her palm. “Take my hand. Ascend.”

Taking the offered hand, Lew was surprised at the strength in the pull. He started dusting himself off, rearranging his holster and the sword at his belt. Looking up at the now severed rope, he remembered to bend down and remove the loop on his ankle. As he did so, he asked, “So, natives huh? That’s something else--no one from the mainland would ever suspect anyone lived here. Even the pirates just hide out, and then only the bravest.” He slid the small bit of rope into a side pouch. “Or the foolish.”

“The foolish and the brave go hand in hand. Together they fight--together they stand,” she cryptically replied, nodding.

He nodded slowly, unsure exactly what to say. He tapped his forehead with a palm, exclaiming, “I’m sorry! Uh, hi,” he said, offering a hand, “I’m Llewellyn Shields, Captain of the Royal Guard attached to princess Luna, of Torani. Just call me Lew, though. You are?”

“You learned your manners well.” She put a hand to her heart and briefly dipped her head down. “My father named me Zecora Zasamel.”

“Well, points for originality there, I suppose.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “You’ve been following me. And killing pirates. Why?”

“It surprises me you express shock. Is it so unnatural for a shepherd to tend to her flock?” she retorted, tilting her head. “The pirates have transgressed upon my land. It is no surprise I rise to make a stand.”

“That I certainly understand.” He thought for a moment. “But alone? There’s no one else to fight with you?”

“Our warriors are few and far between. The fighting falls upon their Queen.”

That made Lew raise his brow. “Queen, huh?” He laughed. “What’re the odds of that. I think princess Luna would enjoy meeting you, Zecora. You’d have a lot to talk about, I bet.”

“Perhaps we might, young Lew.” She briefly glanced at the rope trap he had failed to set on her and couldn’t help the small, sly smile that crossed the corner of her lips. “Tell me: is she a hunter too?”

“One of the best,” Lew said, simply but surely. He hadn’t really ever seen his princess in action until recently. Though he’d be reluctant to say so, she made the best knights of the realm look like green pages. He shivered--watching princess Luna, the Nightmare Knight herself, fight had chilled him. Quietly, he said, “She’s a terrible beauty to behold on the field.”

“A beauty in its own right--a man or woman who knows how to fight.”

“She certainly knows that.” He leaned against the nearby tree. “Well, Zecora, if you’re an enemy of the pirates, I’d like to consider you and your people friends to Torani. You’ve nothing to fear from us, I swear to you. On my honor as a knight.”

“An oath upon your honor? Quite bold.” She looked him over for a moment, gazing over his face. After a long, drawn-out pause, she nodded. “Very well--until proven otherwise, I will consider your words gold.”

“I’m glad to hear that. So, were you watching me to see if I was a threat to your people? Our camp as well, I assume?”

“Your homestead I watched with growing alarm, until I realized your people meant no harm.” Zecora gestured to the side, sweeping across the numerous trees lining the area. “The wandering seafarers battle your tribe. I saw your kin suffering and wish to keep them alive.” She stopped, looked over the man once more, sweeping his torso and arms with her piercing eyes. Moments before he spoke to break the silence that came between them, she quickly asked: “Have nerves reduced your appetite? Your armor is not fitting right.”

He blinked once. Then twice. Then he spoke, a little defensively, “It’s not easy surviving in lands you’ve never even dreamed of visiting, filled with plants and animals you can’t even begin to recognize.” He crossed his arms and stared hard at the ground. “Yeah, I’ve skipped a few meals. I can take it--but the men? They can’t know how low our supplies are starting to get. Not before I find a solution.”

Zecora walked past the knight, going to the trunk of the sturdy tree and retrieving the deeply embedded knife she tossed earlier to free him from his self-made prison. After wiping the blade along her sarong she turned, walking the other way. She gave a small, downward beckoning motion toward Lew.

A bit confused, he followed her lead. Though something told him he could trust her, he kept a ready hand for the pistol at his belt, just in case.

“Sated hunger for your people, safety for mine. Perhaps our destinies can intertwine.” She silently walked, treading along the undergrowth as if she were simply walking in a homestead. Without missing a beat, she began pointing at what seemed to be random plants with reckless abandon as they traveled. “Heartwreath for the injured hand, Gramsbeast to cure sore glands. Dimsleaf makes a tasty dish, Groomsweep is for a bug-bit itch.”

Lew took careful note of the look of them, though he’d have to work on the names later. Herbology was taught to all the knights and, now that he knew what did what, he could begin to see similarities to more familiar plants back home.

She pointed to a black-laced leaf with red, veiny lines running in its innerworkings. “That belongs to the Ravensgroan. Do not eat it if you wish to make it home.” She smiled, looking at a blue, rounded flower that seemed foreign amongst the flora of the ghost rim. “A Blue Maidenlife. It’s my people’s tradition to give one to future wives.”

Bending over, Lew examined the flower. It was one of the oddest, yet alluring, plants he’d ever seen. Carefully, he reached low to the ground, pulling the flower up by its root. He placed it in his satchel. “This is fascinating, and helpful, but here’s a real curious thing. Even after several weeks here, none of my scouts have seen much in the way of wildlife. Not counting those horrid things from the sea and the fish in the river we’ve camped at.” He shivered, remembering the cook’s disastrous last meal.

“Do not judge on looks, young Lew. The ocean beasts sate your hunger--they do.” She glanced across the dense jungle. “Quiet mouths and keen eyes, will be your most powerful allies.” With a point, she gestured to a toppled log about thirty feet away from them. “Over there is a lodge--the creature inside hides in camouflage.”

“What sort?” asked Lew, curious. “I’ve seen creatures that look like rocks or sticks, others that simply fade into the background, some that have distracting abilities to let them escape.”

“The beast inside the wooden den is a large lizard, my friend.” She began slowly creeping forward, lowering her voice as she continued to speak. “As for the creatures of rocks and sticks, they will keep you full--even if they taste like candle wicks.”

Crouching low just behind her, he followed. While he had become somewhat adept at moving silently, compared to Zecora he might as well been blowing a bugle as he moved. When Zecora came within ten feet of the log she reached behind her, arming herself with the spear she kept on her back. The ebony woman crouched low and tensed her legs. She snapped like a coiled spring, leaping forward and plunging her spear squarely into the log. There was a pig-like shriek, and the log shook and trembled briefly before remaining still. Zecora pulled out her bloody weapon and nodded. “The meat of a gulag sweet and filling. You will find none better, I am willing.” She reached inside without hesitation and pulled out a creature similar to a chameleon, save for the fact it was far larger--about the size of a dog, and had several barbs surrounding its torso. Its forked tongue hung limply out of its mouth and the creature’s rounded eyes gazed emptily to either side.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied, giving the thing a distrusting eye. But within he was excited. If Zecora could teach him and his men more about the island... They still needed to find a way off, a way home. But now they had time, something Lew desperately thought they lacked.

“I can’t thank you enough, Zecora,” he said solemnly. Then he gave a boyish smile and asked, “One more thing--any idea where the pirates are encamped?”

“They vary their location each passing day--where they are now? It’s hard to say.”

He gave a small grunt, then was silent for a moment. Shaking his head, he said, “Guess that was too much to hope for. We’ll worry about that a little later. Right now, I’m more interested in dinner.” He pointed to the lizard-like creature. “In the old stories my parents used to read to me, warriors would often share a kill to foster camaraderie. Shall we?” He smiled again. “Then tomorrow, let’s combine our skills and take the fight to the pirates. That’ll be by thanks to you.”

“Tomorrow we tackle different beasts. But tonight?” She returned his smile. “Tonight we feast.”

Jokingly, he asked, “You wouldn’t be able to spear up something a little harder than water, would you?”

Zecora threw her head back and laughed. “The fermented juice of the orange band... well, try it. It’s grand.” She reached into one of her vest pockets and tossed a small canteen Lew’s way.

He opened it and took a whiff--the scent was piercing, watering his eyes some, but faintly fruity. Raising it her way, he said, “To victory.” then took a large swig. He only hoped he wasn’t counting their chickens before they hatched.