The Mended Wing

As the Vixen sails past I grit through the pain and muscle down a gulp of my own blood in the back of mouth to make it to a seated position. A few of the crew cycle in and out of the infirmary giving well wishes and the occasional gift of cider or rum as get-wells to those of us wounded in the fray. I make small talk and listen close for any sign of my Mr. Starkey and his ilk but no avail.
 
As the third day passes and we round the edge of the island Card visits me long enough to talk and catch up on the goings-on and the status of the rest of our watch. I find genuine concern rearing it's head when he speaks of the dwarf that healed me and how he currently lays a few beds down himself. I push away the care and question it's origin as I press on more important matters. The would-be assassin was already off the boat and well into a swim before he could be spotted on the waves, and yet in town no 'sign of him could be found. Cap't Aubrey assures me she will find him and have him hung, and I play along with the idea... but I have more ill intent for that man and those what sent him. I will have to play my cards right and find way of hunting him on my own.
 
By the time I find my sea legs I rise to the deck, still bandaged and bloody and a sight to behold, in time to see old Hollyhome pass on the back side of the isle. I even sneak a genuine and soft smile in my private moment, and think of mom. Perhaps it is again time to send a raven home. I wonder what fantasy I'll write this time. She could not take the truth of what my lot has been, but I cannot leave her un-attended for too long. I find parchment and and muster the magic for a casting of Little Birds begin to write....
 
"Dearest Renee, light of the honey dipped new day.
 
Time again to spin a yarn for my favored audience. I miss you most this ten-day and feel only the deepest of longing to catch you up on the gap of time I have since left this letter unwritten. I suggest you find grandfather's rocking chair empty and settle in.
 
I have made a tour of port town and found audience in the busiest courts in the villa. Even a few officials of the government were in attendance as I preformed and told my tallest of tales for their shock and awe. I have been working on this particular tale involving a dolphin falling into truest of love, but will only give a tease here as it is not yet so finalized to present to you. Only the best for my mother of course. The crowd did guffaw and gaggle at the rough version though so I have high hopes still it will be one the tavern dwellers share round in plenty. The judge in attendance was banging away at her table, so I may soon be called upon by the rich and entrenched in high society to preform!
 
On that note I have already received a writ of summons to travel with a true sailing ship as entertainment for their finely trained masses. We are only passing Masthead but I see grandfather's trees from the sea and pine to be home telling you tales in flesh and blood once again. A few of the fine sailors aboard have brought word of his ciders reaching even Masthead's fine drinking establishments and I beyond proud to spin them tales of growing up with the renown brewer himself. They jest and swear it cannot be but I convince them and brag still more for every sip that is taken. I even sampled some myself and please pass on to grandfather that this may be his finest season yet. I am no experienced lush, but I do taste the flavors of our family orchard and feel ashamed to have ever order any other kind of ale. I miss him so, and my best to he and granny.
 
I make now further south where I intend to touch hearts and fiddle in pubs for at least a few months before my writ is complete. Maybe then I will catch sail and return home for a visit. Though new stories and new faces for which to tell them call like sirens, none are better to preform for than you and my sweet home town.
 
Your most loving son, carrying your voice across the sea,
Ashley"
 
As I write and send the bird on it's merry way I sigh. The voice in my head chides me for lying to her so, but to each new end a well meant means I suppose. A wound re-opens and a few sailors hurry me back down below. One of the lads questions why i even made the climb up in my condition and chides me for not taking enough time to heal. To my surprise he perks up at my mention of Hollyhome being home. It is not un-heard of to cross a sailor that held seat in the Sea Swallow, but when the man began to babble about a re-built building and "new owners" and "Mended Wing pub" I nearly rear back and strike the man. Lucky for him my wounds keep me on leash, but I let thoughts of some little imp pissing in his next serving of soup amuse me and I am abated. Still, the thought of someone re-building my mother's bar uneased me, and only adds to the growing to-do list at hand.....