Captain Richard's Arc

Chapter 3 of 13

Richard moved through the dark streets with the chest under his arm. The dock came into view, the lighthouse blinking red and white above the water. He had left Alexis in the small room at the end of the pier. He climbed the steps two at a time and pushed the door open without a sound. He stopped cold. A heavy golden bench had been dragged into the center of the room, two carved dragons coiled along its back. It had not been there before. Someone had moved it in. Someone strong. Alexis sat on the far end of it, knees pulled up, alive, breathing, watching the doorway with steady eyes. On the cushion beside her lay a charred brown jacket, folded neat. Her fingers rested on one torn sleeve. A small stack of paper birds sat on her lap — folded and refolded, the edges soft from handling. So this was how she waited. She made small things with her hands and did not cry. A low sound came from the corner. A white wolf stepped from the shadow behind the bench. A pale scar split the fur over its left eye. Its yellow gaze met Richard's, and it did not bare its teeth. It sat. It waited. Richard knew that scar. He had stitched it himself, years ago, on a beach he could still draw from memory. "You came in through a window," Richard said. The wolf huffed once, almost a laugh. Alexis set the paper birds aside. She slid her hand across the bench until her fingers stopped a breath away from Richard's. "He scratched at the door," she said. "I let him in. He knew your name." Richard let out the breath he had carried since the tavern. The watcher was still loose in the world. The sanctuary was still unfound. But the thing curled at Alexis's feet was not an enemy — it was the last friend he had left walking, arrived without being asked. Richard sat down on the dragon bench. For the first time in weeks, he was not deciding alone.