Tidal Hearts

⚓️

It's bizarre.

To live somewhere undiscovered. Untouched.

Miles away from civilization, you could assume we were something sacred. Perhaps we were too hidden, perhaps no one had ever come searching. Not since I was a girl, anyways.

Not since fate decided nothing would ever be the same.

I could still hear the arrows, doused in flames, whistling through the sky and piercing the white sails. The warmth of the flames eating through the ship's lifeline, I could still feel it on my skin. A feeling unforgotten, a lingering memory when I closed my eyes. As though I were still that innocent child tucked behind the berry bush many moons ago, watching the weapons of my people pierce the air and destroying the noble ship that had lost its way.

The war unfolded on our shore, salty tears spilling down my cheeks as the cries of my mother rose above the screams of the rest, her fight against my father futile.

I did not understand at the time.

Now all these moons later, the prickly berry bush swallowed me whole in its interlaced and complicated embrace. It was much larger than it was that night. It had grown more intricate over the years, much like everything else on this island.

Within my belly sat a sickly dread as thorns dug into my fingers that clutched the branches, my eyes anchored to the unfamiliar crew of shipmates fighting for their lives against the unforgiving pull of the tide. Their ship, once proud and sturdy, crumpled against the shore in a heap of mangled wood. The waves crashed against her body, seeping mercilessly through the cracks of the structure. The snapping sound of the wood tore through the night, sending the deer lingering around the shore darting into the safety of the forest.

A faint breath slipped through my clenched teeth, as though letting out a full gust would somehow trigger the rest of the island. Tucked beside the tree line, the forest around me swayed with the push and pull of the wind, leaves cascading across the beach as harsh rain pelted against the sand.

The sailors cried out to each other, their shouts echoing through the night.

"Shit," I whispered, glancing over at the cabins.

My eyes strained, searching for any sign of life. No torch of curiosity had been ignited.

Not yet.

A bellowing gust of wind rattled the cabins, the harsh rain drowning out the shouts of the sailors who now clawed their way up through the deep sand. I peered towards the sky, the menacing black storm cloud briskly moving over top of the mountains.

Sea foam seeped up the sand where the sailors laid now, shivering and slumped into a pile against the wet sand. Streaks of red trailed down the beach where they had crawled to what they believed to be safety. My eyes were anchored to them, willing myself to approach them. To find the courage.

To warn them.

"Soleil?"

The voice broke me from my trance, the thorns of the bush snagging in my hair as I swiftly turned to face the voice.

Despite my fright, I was only surprised that I didn't hear the deep tone of his voice sooner. He'd be damned if I slipped away from him for too long.

Springing to my feet, I hissed as the thorns ripped at my tangled dark hair. I scurried towards the cabins, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my thin shawl every step of the way. His olive green eyes reflected underneath the moonlight, like a predator locking in on its prey. They narrowed as they set their displeased sights onto me.

"Cooper—" I hesitated, "I'll be back soon. Just—I'm just getting some air."

The silence was deafening.

He would hunt me like a deer if thought I was up to something. Gut me like one too. Most women on the island would have done anything to be his mate. I would have done anything to give them that privilege.

The scrutiny of his stare lingered on me for a second too long, sending a shiver down my spine. It was his way of cementing his unyielding dominance before he raised a hand to rub his tired eyes.

"Don't get lost." He murmured, letting the cabin door slam behind him.

Bastard.

That wouldn't happen. I knew every inch of this stupid island, and he knew that.

With the weight of his gaze lifting and disappearing into the cabin, I spun to press my back against a tree, gasping in a desperate breath of air. Bark scraped against my skin, a plume of dust rising around me as I slid down to the dirt with a thud.

I waited, my breath held in my throat. It wouldn't be unlike him to play with me. To let me believe that this time, I had the upper hand. To let the cabin door slam while he was still lurking outside, only to pounce through the trees. His vicious fist would lace through my hair, dragging me back to the cabin. Punishment for daring to go against his word.

I don't know how much time passed with my body paralyzed in the dirt. The storm bellowed, the wind changing direction to pelt the rain against my bare thighs. I knew I needed to move before a vicious shiver took hold of me; I'd be useless to the foreigners if I froze hidden underneath the trees.

I opened and closed my stiff fingers a couple of times, swallowing thickly before pushing onto my hands and knees. The rough terrain dug into my palms, though I pushed on with my eyes squeezed shut. As if somehow, I could hide within my mind, hidden from anyone who may be watching me. I let my body carry me across the forest floor until I felt the brush of the berry bush against my face, only then did I work up the nerve to pry open my eyes. To see that I truly hadn't hallucinated.

They were still there, chests heaving on our shore.

One...Two...Three...

I raked my eyes over them repeatedly, counting far more times than necessary. My gaze darted around the beach, back to the ship, into the blustering woods.

Crack.

Twigs snapped behind me, sending me lurching forward into the prickly bush. The pain of the thorns pricking my chilled skin didn't set in. I could only stare silently, mouth agape at the dark figure crippling its way through the trees. Soaked to the bone, he hung desperately onto the trees as he moved. My hands reached towards him, wishing I could just grasp him. Pull him back to the false safety of the shore.

He paused, gripping a thin tree that threatened to collapse under his weight. It rustled with his staggering stance, crisp orange leaves raining down onto him. Even in the shadows, his limp was obvious. His left leg dragged behind him, a deep crimson stain seeping down the side of his white pants and smearing across the hand clutching them.

My medicine basket rested at my side, filled to the brim with herbs and medicines. Harvesting wasn't on my mind earlier that day, the storm wracking through the island most of the afternoon. It was a day to stay hidden within the walls of my cabin, with the curtains drawn and door locked. Though one too many rotten comments from Cooper was enough for me to resort to slipping away to work. Now as my fingers opened and closed around the wicker handle, for once I could feel grateful for his torment driving me to stock up on supplies.

In the silhouette of the sailor, I could see his laboured breathing with the heavy rise and fall of his back. I watched with my breath held in my throat, not willing to even blink, afraid he would slip from my view if I dared.

He pushed from the tree, ending his brief break to finish his journey to the cabins. I scavenged the forest floor around me frantically, searching for something. Anything in the mess of fallen leaves and rocks.

Before he could disappear into the darkness, I clutched a fallen acorn and launched it at his back, pelting him squarely between the shoulders.

"Psst"," I hissed, poking my head out from behind the tree.

He stumbled, a broad oak tree catching his fall as he swiftly turned to face me. His hair, black as a raven, stuck to his forehead sending a steady stream of water droplets running down his nose. His lips were peppered with a purple tinge. I raked my eyes from his face, down his drenched uniform, landing on his pale fingers that clutched his thigh. I sucked in a gasp at the sight. Protruding from the front of his thigh was a wooden stake, impaled through the fabric of his pants.

I flickered my gaze back and forth between the paleness of his skin, the violet lips, and the stab wound.

This was far out of my expertise.

"You need to come with me," I whispered.

As I stepped towards him, he moved back instinctively, prying one hand from his thigh to hold it between us. Thick drops of blood dripped onto the orange leaves he stood on.

"Stay back," He breathed, firmly holding my eye contact.

"You're hurt," I whispered. "I can help you."

He wouldn't die tonight. I had decided that back at the berry bush.

Not after what my mother had sacrificed.

From the frightened look in his dark eyes, despite the hardness in his face, I knew he wasn't ready either. Pressing my lips into a frown, I let my eyes fall to the leg trembling under his weight. He hesitated, drawing back a touch before reluctantly following my gaze.

"Please let me help you," I urged, taking another step.

This time, he didn't retreat.

We observed each other silently for a moment, leaves stirring in the wind between us. Then he nodded his head once. A curt, simple dip of his chin.

I rushed to his side, the chilled water from his clothes immediately seeping through the thin fabric of mine as my body pressed against his.

"Lean on me." I whispered, grasping his arm and laying it across my shoulders.

"You'll fall." He said, his voice raspy.

"You'll fall if you don't. Please!" I urged, tightening my grip on his clothes.

His muscles quivered underneath my hands that desperately tried to steady him. Reluctantly, he let himself lean into my grasp. I staggered for a moment. It was clear he still supported himself, though it was still enough to make my knees waiver. With the violent shivering of his body against mine and the bitterness of the ocean still fresh on his skin, I planted my feet firmly underneath me and tightened my grasp.

We moved at his pace, staggering across the forest towards the tiny medical hut nestled in the trees. He hopped beside me, using my body against his to balance himself. My sights were set firmly on getting him to the hut, my mind already reeling with what I should do first. Though, it didn't escape my notice how his eyes were fixated on the shore, his boots stumbling over branches clearly in his path.

His crew.

It crossed my mind to bring him back to the water, to gather up his men first. But his shiver only grew worse, his lips darkening into a deeper shade of purple. If I didn't get him help now—

The adrenaline rushing through my veins shielded me from the vicious bite of the wind. As my heart rapped against my chest, I could only hope my own worry wouldn't seep into him. My free hand hauled open the screen door of the hut, the creak of the rusted hinges stirring the birds from the trees. He pulled from my grasp and collapsed against the white mattress stuffed with straw. Bloody hands smeared across the white sheets, the wooden bed frame thumping against the wall as he crashed.

"Alright," I said, pushing my shoulders back. "Let me get a good look."

I plucked a blunt, silver knife from the desk, falling to my knees beside the bed. With wide eyes he pushed himself into sitting, before heaving his legs over the side of the bed with a wince.

"It's alright!" I whisper, holding the knife out for him to view.

"Look," I nodded towards his pants leg. "I need to cut those."

His eyes met the tiny dagger for a moment before reluctantly peering at his leg once again. With the realization, his shoulders slumped, his back of his head thumping against the headboard. Even if I had meant to hurt him, this was no true weapon. Even ripping through his pants would be an ambitious task.

The back of my hand swiped across my forehead, brushing away a bead of sweat despite the frigid and damp night air. A wavered sigh slipped from my lips, my eyes raking over all the damage littered across his body.

So so damaged. Glinting in the moonlight, his golden medals had unclasped from the lapel of his navy jacket, dangling slightly with his laboured breathing. I could just hardly make out what each shiny plaque said, with tiny beads of saltwater pooling atop of them. Through narrowed eyes, I strained to read what was written without being too obvious, though only one word was visible. Arguably the most crucial one.

Captain.

Sitting back on my heels, I gave my head a small shake, a hardly audible huff of disbelief slipping from my lips.

It all made so much sense now.

Why he was the one to leave the beach and seek help, why he couldn't bring himself to look away from the shore. This was the captain of the ship, and the crew was still helpless on the beach.

There was a strange stirring in my chest, seeing his foreign, noble uniform so soiled. Specks of dirt and sand were littered across the fabric, with even darker blood stains seeping through. Something so beautiful didn't belong here. Someone who wore a uniform like this didn't belong here.

A violent shiver ripped through his body, pulling me from my hypnosis.

"Okay, I'll get you fixed up. Get you back to your crew. Does that sound good?" I said, pressing the dull knife against the thick fabric of his pants.

Dark, hooded eyes watched me closely, the muscle in his jaw flexing. Yet he stayed silent.

I paused briefly awaiting his response, but it did not come. Only the firm, set gaze of someone still so unsure. Someone who was not willing to be taken advantage of. Even in his sorry state, his fists remained wound into tight balls, the veins in his forearms pulsing.

I couldn't wait much longer for his response. The fabric of his salt stained pants were thick, each forceful drag of the knife sending a painful jolt up his thigh. He handled it well, staring stoically ahead with clenched teeth. With the base of the stake exposed, we both gazed down on it with tense expressions, surely feeling the same sickly dread. Only it was I who needed to hide it.

"Okay, not so bad right?" I said, desperately trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

I offered him a weary smile, that quickly faded as he flicked his dark, stormy gaze to mine.

"Okay going fast, Got it." I breathed, scrambling to my feet.

My fingers grazed the jars lining the wall behind us, filled with carefully prepared herbs and roots. I read each one, desperately trying to decide what to use.

"Come on..." I whispered to myself, tapping my foot on the ground.

A pit settled deep in my stomach. I had been the healer on the island since I was old enough to make sense of it all. I had treated scrapes, sore muscles, fevers. None of my jars were labelled gaping stab wound.

A faint huff breezed behind me, mixed with the sound of the bed creaking. I plucked a jar of silversage from the shelf, as well as a full jar of clean, boiled water. My mother would use the sage on most serious injuries she handled. She'd tell me a sleepy patient was a cooperative one. The glass clinked together in my hands, my grasp tightening around them as I rushed back to the captain's side.

"Sorry, It's—it's a big injury." I stammered, holding the jars up to show him.

I let my head fall back a touch, my eyes squeezing shut as a simple please slipped from my lips. The blistering wind sent a draft through the hut, the structure creaking around us.

"It might sting a little," I warned, giving him a brief smile and popping the lid from the jar.

Hot, dark blood soaked through the cloth within the first couple of dabs. He hissed in a breath, the sage sinking into his skin around the stake. The herb provided a hot, tingly feeling that people often said made them itchy. I've used countless jars myself, slathering a black eye in the sticky sap. Nothing else worked quite as good, once you bared the initial irritation. The cloth grew warmer in my hand, becoming saturated with fresh blood. The captain worked to hide his winces, his fingers grasping around the bedsheet.

"It doesn't look so deep, that's really good." I said, easing up on the pressure.

He remained stoic, but the way his brows untied just a touch did not go unnoticed. My eyes roamed over his face, my lips pressing into a upside down frown. His lips still wore a deep purple, while the tip of his nose and ears donned a bright red.

"A fire!" I stammered, jumping to my feet. "I'll start a fire!"

His eyes went wide as I reached forward, my hand falling upon his broad shoulder. For a moment I thought he would shake my touch from him. Instead, he reluctantly moved into sitting, never taking a keen eye off me.

I shrugged his navy-coloured jacket from his shoulders, the thick fabric heavy in my hands. My fingers clutched around the sleeves, my thumbs running over the fibres. I hadn't felt such full, dense fabric. My own shawl draped over my shoulders, weaved from cottons grown in our gardens, the fabric featherlight and worn out. Useless for the cold.

Before I could step away to place the jacket by the fire pit, it slipped from my hands, an icy spray of water splashed up against my bare legs. The jacket slapped against the floor; the captain's fist clutched around the sleeve. I gasped, jumping away from the cold assault of water that seeped from underneath the slump of fabric. For the first time tonight, his gaze broke from me, flicking down to the medals that clinked off the floorboards. The jacket left a wet trail across the planks as he reeled the garment back onto the bed, his shaking hands struggling to unclasp the medals.

"Here," I whispered, kneeling beside him and holding my hands out.

His fingers paused around the golden plaques, guarding them in his palm. There was a mental battle going on within him since the moment I laid eyes on him. I offered him a gentle smile. I knew how difficult it was to trust.

Reluctantly, he let his fingers slip from the medals, his eyes flicking up to land firmly on mine. I ignored the intensity of his glare, reaching to unclasp medals. They slipped from the jacket into my palm, clinking together.

"There," I said, placing them onto the damp fabric pressed against his stomach. "Safe with you."

He blinked slowly, picking up the golden plaques and clutching them in his palm. I didn't press him any further and moved to spark a fire in the pit nestled in the corner.

The soft, orange flame illuminated the shadowy room, its warmth brushing against my skin.

My supplies laid beside the bed, and I drew in a heavy sigh knowing what I had to do next. I had spent many hours in this room, tending to wounds and sickness. What I had not done was remove a stake like this.

"I need to remove this," I said apologetically, taking my place beside the bed.

His eyes shifted to me, a tinge of worry mixed in with the orange hues of the fire. Then, he gave me a curt nod like before, his gaze fixating on the wall ahead of him.

"I—think you should bite down on this," I said, grasping a strip of leather from my basket, "It isn't safe for you to yell."

His brows pinched together, picking the leather up between his pale fingers.

"Captain," I said, my use of his title causing him to raise his eyes to mine. "I do mean that. You cannot yell."

With my warning, I had raised a hand to gently lay on his knee. The weight of my hand on his leg caused him to draw back, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the rest of our night.

Did he know?

Could he feel the dread seeping from the mountains? Was the true nature of the island that strong? Did he know gentleness was a far away dream, ceasing to exist on these lands?

His dilemma was obvious on his face.

Did I know what I was doing, or didn't I.

To trust, or not.

With a deep sigh, he placed the leather between his teeth.

With his silent approval, I desperately tried to steady the shake in my hands as I wrapped them around the stake. It was splintered and frayed under my palms, scratching against my skin.

I checked in with his expression, catching a twitch along his clenched jaw. The stake was imbedded firmly, not budging from the tremble in my grasp. The sound of blood rushing through my veins filled my ears, the rest of the hut drowned out around me.

"Okay, three..." I huffed, readjusting my grip for the hundredth time.

"Two..."

"One," I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut.

In one swift motion I hauled the stake upwards, yanking it from his flesh. The moment it had dislodged from his thigh my hands flew open, sending the stake clambering across the floor. I scrambled to snatch my herb-soaked cloth from my basket, putting direct pressure on the wound. The captain groaned, a deep animalistic sound slipping from behind the leather. For the first time tonight, I finally exhaled, a deep ragged sigh of relief.

"You're so tough." I said, a shaky laugh slipping from my lips.

It took a few moments for him to acknowledge we had finished. His world certainly reeling from the stake uprooting from his leg. His fingers clutched the bedsheets, crushing the fabric into balls in his palms. Then finally, as though the stake had been a plug in his emotions, he let the leather fall from his mouth and offered me his first weary smile of the night.

"Thank you," he said, his voice coming out hoarse.

The fire had spread its heat throughout the small hut now, though I wasn't sure if I was sweating due to the heat or the pressure.

It didn't matter. The colour had slowly returned to his lips, taking on a rosier hue as the purple faded. The shiver and goosebumps along his skin had ceased, even his white undershirt had begun to dry up.

"You're welcome," I said, sitting back on my heels and letting up on some of the pressure. "You look better already."

He winced a touch as I moved, but the tension melted from his face as the herbs began to ease some of the pain.

"I'm tired." he said, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

"It's sedative. You might feel a little hazy." I said quietly.

I didn't push him to speak further. I had begun to wonder if he even knew English, after holding his tongue for so long. It was a relief to finally hear his voice—to know I could communicate with him. The fire crackled through the hut, both of us keeping our silence. With his head resting back against the pillow, his dark eyes grew heavy, his thick lashes blinking slowly.

I don't know how long we stayed like this, myself dabbing dutifully at his wound while he rested. The once strained rise and fall of his chest had melted into a slow and steady rhythm, and he had finally shaken all of the purple from his lips.

What the captain did not realize—was how deep this ran for me. That this did not begin tonight. Perhaps for him, it did. For me, this was atonement for what I could not do before. It was finishing the job my mother had started.

"It was a bad storm." He said suddenly, his voice deep and groggy.

He did not lift his head, nor open his eyes.

"Yeah, it was." I said, biting my lip and dropping the cloth to my lap. "Do you have a plan to get out of here?"

His eyes fluttered open for a moment, before falling to rest again.

"No, we lost all communication" he said, his voice flat.

My silence lingered heavily between us, my remorse clearly obvious as his demeanour shifted uncomfortably.

"Why?" He said, cracking one eye open.

I sucked in a breath before grabbing a bandage wrap and some padding.

"I—I don't know how to explain this" I whispered, pressing the padding against his wound. He hissed in a breath, the muscle of his thigh quivering.

"The last ship that wrecked here—I was just a girl then. I couldn't stop it, I tried to—"

"Speak clearly," Kenji said, taking my wrist in his grasp.

My fingers paused against the bandage I had been wrapping, a shiver trailing down my spine with the firmness of his command.

"Take a breath." He said gently, as if he realized the tone he had used.

That had been the Captain speaking in that moment. I let a few shaky breaths slip from my lips before continuing.

"They killed them all. Not—not before enslaving them. You need to find a way out of here."

He nodded slowly, letting my words digest. Finally, the truth had been revealed. There was a strange weight lifted from my shoulders with the confession. Knowing I was not the only one bearing the truth of the island.

"And you—" He started.

"No! No, I'm not like them." I stammered. "I could never—"

"I believe you. And I have no choice but to trust you, Do I?" He groaned.

I shook my head sombrely, my lips pressing into a thin frown.

"What is your name?"" He asked, letting his head fall to the side.

"Soleil." I said, tying off the bandage I had snuggly wrapped.

"Soleil," He repeated quietly. "Kenji."

"Not Captain?" I teased, forcing the corners of my mouth up.

He rolled his eyes, a single amused huff expelling from his nose.

"Just to my crew." He said, raising a hand to rub his tired eyes.

My hands fell to my lap, my brow furrowing in sympathy as I watched how exhausted he appeared to be.

"I'm in no condition to fight, Soleil." Kenji sighed.

Fight.

Bless him. Decades of weaponry had been crafted here. Mostly for hunting, but Senora had also prepared to block any potential attacks on our shores. Bows and arrows, spears, sharp knives. As well as being incredibly outnumbered, four injured sailors would be light weight to Senora's feral brigade.

Visions of Cooper's vicious attacks on me flashed through my mind. Kenji looked to be his size, maybe even bigger. Perhaps in any other lifetime, he could fight his way out of this. But Cooper loved one thing in this world, and it was power. The opportunity to fight a wounded opponent—He would relish in it.

He could never find out Kenji was here.

"No," I agreed, "You need to hide. I—I'll set you up a camp. Do you think anyone will come searching for you?"

"Yes—"

My heart leapt in my chest.

"But not soon."

Oh.

"We were sailing to my brother. When we don't show, he'll come. But it might take some time."

I chewed nervously on my bottom lip, my fingers fumbling with the roll of bandage in my lap.

"I'll make you a camp. You need to stay at there, And stay alert. People go all over the island but—I'll find you somewhere. You just have to stay put, please." I urged, my hands jumping to clutch the edge of the bed.

My voice came out as a desperate plea of warning.

Kenji slowly nodded his head, his gaze drifting to the array of herbs and medicines sitting upon the shelf.

"Alright," He said with a sigh, "My men are hurt too, can you help them?"

My fingers gripped around the wicker basket laying beside the bed. Lifting my chin, I mimicked his curt nod from before. Firm in my decision. Despite what this might mean for me. Despite the risk.

I wouldn't let history repeat itself.