The Weaving Pirates

The air held a chill to it. Winter had come to the tropical planet. It was quiet except for the sound of wind chimes and frogs. Gentle and calm. The house closest to the beach has a few lights on, adding to the air. If one is rude and listened closer then there had been before, you could hear quiet talking. Hylotl. 

The speech is calm.
Till there’s a scream.

A crash and a thunk and the sound of door tracks grinding. 

A small figure is running from the house to the beach. Her sandals digging into the sand. One flung off behind her as she tripped over the edge of her dress. She spun around to face the house.

“I AM NOT WEAK!”

She took off the other sandal and threw it in the direction of the house as someone else came from it.

“Child, we don’t act like monsters and Floran. Calm down and come back in.”

“NO. I WILL NOT CALM DOWN. THAT’S ALL WE EVER DO. WE GO INSIDE AND ‘CALM DOWN.’ I AM NOT CALM.” Her voice was breaking, “HOW CAN I BE? YOU JUST SAID I WAS UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING.”

She backed away, her tone quiet now, “You said I was small and weak.”

“You are small. And you can barely lift a sword.” The other shook their head, “So yes, you are weak, child. And I don’t think you can get stronger. Look at yourself.” with a gesture, they ruined what little hope the younger Hylotl had.

“You don’t have the self control to learn anything that can help you. Come inside once you’ve gained some insight on how to control that nasty temper of yours.”

The Older Hylotl turned and went inside, stepping over the lost tossed sandal. Ignoring the shouts and panicked words coming from the child.

“I HATE YOU.”

They did not seem to care. They stepped back into the house, and shut the door silently, the glint of three eyes soon hidden by the thin wood.

The child continued to scream.
She fell to the sand, digging her hands into it. The sand blurred as she cried. And cried. Sobbing and scream about how she was not weak. She was strong. She would prove it.

The night dragged on. And she was huddled now. Knees pulled to her chest. She faced the ocean, whispering and begging the tide to rise up and take her.

And she heard whistling.

She rubbed at her face to get rid of tear stains and sand. She stood and listened as the whistling got louder.

It was a Human boy, not much older then her. He was kicking up the sand as he walked, boots tucked neatly under his arm. He stopped when he saw her. She sniffed. And gave her best glare.

“Hey now, why so unfriendly?”

She kept up her silent glaring.

“Just one question before I go. Do you happen to know where I can find a Hylotl willing to abandon their way of living and become my second command in a pirate-like crew? They’ll need to be strong willed to contend with my jackassery.”

Her glare lightens up just a tidge, “I do know someone like that. Me.” Her gaze was strong. And she looked this boy in the eyes. He had these weird dots tattooed under them. She would swear forever after that one of them winked.

He smirked and stuck a hand out, “Captain Sar Tela. Pleasure to meet you. And what am I to call you…?”

She grabbed the hand and shook hard, “Panda… for now.”

“Welcome to the Weaving Pirates, Panda.”

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A message left in the sand, in the scrawling letters of the boy:
Dear resident of the household,
The young Hylotl child has joined my ranks. If you see them again, you’ll most likely be at the end of her weapon. Thank you for not being good at keeping an eye on the child.
With Pleasure,
Captain of the Weaving Pirates.