Despite harbouring a glittering maelstrom, the city passing beneath the ship appeared safe, homely. Captain Celaeno’s claws dug into the wooden taffrail as she peered down.
It made her feathers itch.
Macaw’s Landing had been safe, homely. When she was first taken to the Silver Sea Fete, she had clutched her corsair doll and glared. Streets framed by ribbons and lamplit stalls, laughter catching the star-studded sky. It's perfect, everyone had said.
It’s boring, Celaeno had said.
But when the pirates sailed by, their skirmish shattering that perfect night with smoke and song, Celaeno’s feathers were soothed. She knew then she'd always be the white crow of her family.
Until now.
She spun as claws skittered across the deck, sweeping up the giggling chick. Her most precious treasure.
“Whatcha lookin’ at, Mam?”
“The land below. Boring, right?”
Gazing down, her wide-eyed daughter scratched at her feathers.
Always the white crow.