Once she was back on solid ground, Ana vowed at that moment to not step foot on another ship again, ever. She wondered how long it would take for that sensation of constantly moving and rocking side to side to actually stop. She wrapped her arms around her middle, face pale and inwardly groaned.
Don’t be sick, don’t be sick.
It seemed that the rougher the seas became, the louder and more drunk the men on board were getting. She stared at the table in front of her, hands around a mug of warmed bourbon, for nothing more than the heat it brought her hands, and it gave her something to focus on. She dared not make eye contact accidentally with even one of the drunk human men. She’d heard them, at least a few of them talking amongst themselves, very loudly, some of them, about her, and she was more than aware of the danger of the situation, but what could she do? She was stuck on board until the ship docked, and who knew when that was going to be.
She startled as a bottle flew past her face, crashing into the wall at the side of the cabin, jumping almost right out of her seat, and as the bottle smashed loudly, the men cheered, and moments later another flew past her from the other direction. They were playing catch with their empty bottles, and she was apparently the one they were trying to entertain. Her head actually started to spin as the noise in the room grew, and the boat seemed to rock even more violently than before.
“Hey sweetheart, hows about I show ya a good time?” This one, large and looming over the table right in front of her, grinning at her, his breath so rank that she almost gagged right then, but right as he appeared, she felt a hand grab roughly at her breast, a huge arm around her neck and shoulder, pinning her to the back of her chair. She’d been surrounded.
Screams then, as something or someone ripped the men away from her, and the cabin swam with energy, a dark energy was all she could describe it as later on, but one by one, the men were silenced, dropping to the deck, their screams of agony cut short as quickly as they began.
Oh Gods, what’s happening?
And then she saw him. The one responsible for the room full of dead men, and he was holding up the last surviving man, dangling him in front of her, almost, and Ana covered her gaping mouth as the man opened and closed his own mouth, or what was left of it, like some kind of fish, blood gurgling and spattering the table in front of her as he tried to speak. Why was he trying to speak?
“Hurry now, and apologize to the lady.”
The deep, smooth, but menacing voice reached her ears then, and at the same time another glob of blood hit the table right in front of her hands, and she stumbled backwards, as she began to retch.
On her hands and knees at the side of the cabin, vomiting into a bucket, over the sounds of the howling wind outside she heard the unmistakable crack of the man’s neck breaking, followed by a thud as his lifeless body hit the ground.
An audible cry escaped Ana’s mouth as she flew upright in her bed, forehead beaded with sweat, her breath coming in ragged fits and starts, she began to calm down after a few minutes as she realized that she was at home, safe, in her bed. The creature in the corner had stirred as soon as she did, and sat at the side of the bed, looking up at her from the floor, making a series of grunting, clicking sounds as it tried to communicate with her. She exhaled slowly out of her mouth, and spoke to it in an almost whisper.
“It’s okay, Ghaad. I’m okay.”
And she glanced over her shoulder to see, that, surprisingly the warlock was still sleeping, and she made a clicking sound with her tongue at the Felhound, and seemingly satisfied, he made his way back to the corner, settled back down and was quiet again.
Sinking down slowly into the pillows, Ana closed her eyes but it would be a long time before sleep found her again. When it did, at least, thankfully, this time it was peaceful and dreamless.