Ol' Flint the Crow

Barmaid vs. Boatman

Hobbs wiped his brow after rolling up the sails to slow down the ship. They were long gone from the horse riding nobles and their sharp arrows. He was rather proud of himself as he breathed in the crisp, river mist. With his throat parched from lack of alcohol, the sailor fumbled through the contents of Miss Bleak's supply bag to find the red wine he had earned for their daring escape.

Before he could touch the slender neck of the bottle, Hobbs was seized by Bleak and thrown to the ground. She grabbed him by his wrinkled shirt collar and yanked him up close to her glaring face. Her nostrils were tense, and she seemed ready to hurt the boatman without hesitation.

"You idiot!" she screeching in his ear. "Why didn't you see the boulder blocking our way? We could have been killed because of you! Any seaman worth his salt would have noticed it in time!"

The riverboat captain's chest heaved from being pinned down by giant woman. Her flaring eyeballs glimmered in the moonlight, making Hobbs sigh in regret. He felt the woman's soft golden locks caressing his face as she threatened him. Everything about her right now frightened him, yet he was glad to be so close to her; he could almost touch her if he dared. However, now was not the time to hold her tightly in his arms; that chance had sailed away a long time ago.

"I-I'm sorry!" he pleaded in a low remorseful voice. "It was my fault! I should have seen it."

Hissing while being cradled in Samuel's arms, Flint squawked angrily at the barmaid, "Leave Hobbs alone Miss Bleak! He can't help it! Stop harassing him."

"What?!" the bartender yelled, appalled by Flint's words.

"He's not the only one who almost got us killed today!" Flint growled as he did his best to raised his weak body in a defiant stance. "And it's not like he wanted to become a drunk. You helped him out with that remember!"

Realizing what the bird meant by this, the barmaid lifted herself off of Hobbs and snarled at her friend. Her hands wobbled a little as she walked up to the bird. Shaking all over, Samuel could barely keep a tight enough grip on the crow. The minstrel worried he would become a casualty as a result of Bleak's wrath.

Thankfully for the flute player, Miss Bleak's head dropped as she walked past them and went to the stern of the ship. She gazed up at night sky as the light of the stars enveloped her. Her eyes closed as she listened to the soothing sounds of the rapids.

Samuel stared at the bartender as she secluded herself from him and the others. Still holding onto Flint, the minstrel's countenance drooped as he felt a pang in his heart for Miss Bleak and her frustration. It did not seem right the way Flint had treated her. Wishing to make her feel better, Samuel's chest heaved with sympathy... Or was it the worm steadily growing larger as the second day of their adventure ended?

"You think she's okay?" Samuel asked the crow. "You were not very nice to her."

Flint did not answer the flute player. Instead, the bird spoke to Hobbs as he laid sprawled on the deck with a listless expression. "Hobbs, you good?"

Hobbs moaned as he rubbed his face with his shaking hands. "No... I'm not. Bleak's right; I'm a stupid drunk!"

The bird grumbled in annoyance and said, "True, but it makes no sense to cry over it. And you don't have to take that from Miss Bleak. Stop being spineless and stand up for yourself!"

The minstrel hushed the crow to keep him from saying such harmful words. Wondering what had befallen the barmaid and the sailor to cause such friction between them, Samuel looked at Bleak and then Hobbs as he pondered.

"You can go have your drink now," Flint said.

The crow leaped out of Samuel's hands and fell on the floor. Letting out a yelp as the pain from the wound worsen, the bird collapsed on the deck. Samuel went to Flint's aid as the animal clenched the laceration on his side. Warm blood squirted out as his black feathers to turn a sickly pale color.