Page 67 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

But we’ll find land, just follow me!

We’ll take our rats, an’ set ’em free.

On a sandy isle with trees o’ green

With water as clear as ale!”

Kitten looked around with a sluggish grin fleeting across her lips. “Sing wit’ me ye bastards!”

The crew raised their glasses high, then sang with her the final verse.

“Steady now, ’cause we can’t slip.

But mark me words, we’ll end this trip.

It’s up t’ us t’ outlast this ship.

’ave courage, face yer fears!

Now rum we ’ave, but it’s all f’ naught.

It can’t be drunk ’cause it’s all we’ve got.

If we do, then we’ll meet our ends like sots.

Let’s die like buccaneers!”

Boots scratched his hairy belly, then shouted Kitten’s name from across the deck.

“Why don’t you chasse your voluptuous little tooshie my way, my love?”

She flashed a sluggish smirk and tumbled forward, falling into his arms. A passionate kiss landed upon her lips, and his hand wrapped around her neck to pull her even closer. Then, he slowly traced his other finger down to her décolletage.

“Aren’t I one lucky bastard,” he hummed before leaning down and pecking small kisses between her breasts.

Mazie averted her eyes from the lovebirds, then stood and stumbled forward, sitting next to Lincoln and Nola.

“Here, drink up, you two!” she shouted while holding two mugs to their faces. “You both look miserable. It’s depressin’!”

Nola took the cup and stuck her nose in the drink, inhaling the sharp scent. It smelt like freshly poured glue.

“Thank you, mate.” Nola cheered.

Mazie smirked. “I’m your mate now?” She caressed the edge of her hat, shooting Nola a cunning look, then said, “If you can drink like a pirate, then you may call me whateve’ the hell you want.”

“Oh, that may be a challenge, Nola,” Lincoln teased. “No one can outdrink Mazie.”

“Aye, we’ve got about seven bloody barrels of it now,” Boots said, wiping red lipstick from his chin. “We can just drink until we die, really.” He chuckled to himself.

Suddenly, everyone fell silent.

The reminder that they were out of water hit all seven of them.

“I’m in for the challenge then,” Nola said, trying to divert their attention and placed the mug to her lips. She took one sip, trying not to heave at the bold flavor that bathed her tongue.

Holy shit,Nola thought as she swallowed.

It was not as if she had not had booze before, but strong liquor was a luxury in Zemira, and only the elite who resided could afford it. A time or two, she and a few village girls snuck out of their houses, fled to the nearby city, and drank the leftover booze thrown out behind each tavern. It was always the old kind that no longer tasted good, so the bar could not sell it.

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