Eighteen
The waves carried our boats gently on our way back home.
I breathed as the wind playfully raised my red curls, trying to process what had happened in the last hours.
We rescued over a hundred prisoners, most of them Irish. None of the Area Three prisoners, except for Rahab, whom Manasseh tried to get as far away as he could, I guessed.
There was so much I wanted to talk to her about, so much I wanted to ask. But somehow I sensed that nothing was the same.
Bearclaw grinned this morning, the dirty teeth shining through the thick beard. The stern and boasting Irish warriors turned into playful boys celebrating a victory they had never expected. Before we left, Bearclaw gave me a solemn nod. An acknowledgement that I had poked the bear for a reason, forced his people out of hiber
