The bastards actually came for me, Gillian thought, they tailed us right into the middle of a storm. The sky was black, the only sources of light coming from the rapid flashes of lightning and the rare glimpse of the moon through the moving clouds. Any chance of communicating with the crew was drowned out by the torrential downpour, rolling thunder, or the grinding of the deck. Several unfortunate sailors had already been drowned along with the noise.

Gillian led her crew far west into the Indigo Wastes. A futile effort to escape her would-be captor, Dy-Lee the bounty hunter. Her ship, named the Lazuli but oft mistaken as the Seawolf due to the carved wolf head at the bow, was a swift vessel, but it had been weighed down to counter the winds. Dy-Lee’s vessel, however, was a far more advanced ship capable of speed, firepower, and durability, paid for by Capital dogs. Dy-Lee had christened it the Stake Driver. Gillian had a small crew of less than 30, compared to the full 120 of her opponent. There was no avoiding it this time, Gillian thought.

She stood on the deck of her vessel with sword in hand. She had to struggle to stay balanced as the waves rocked the ship. A dozen of Dy-Lee’s men laid bleeding out or dead around her. Many of her own crew she forced to retreat below deck, with a scant few manning the vital stations to survive the storm. If any blood were to be spilled, it was going to be hers and hers alone. The Stake Driver had managed to keep pace long enough for the third wave of bounty hunters to board, jumping from ship to ship.

Gillian shouted at them knowing they could hear nothing. She readied her cutlass in one hand and a short dagger in the other. Even amidst the deluge, her enemies could tell she had been sweating, exhausted. Her grip tightened on the blades to keep them from falling out of her shaking hands. She abandoned her captain's coat after the first wave and stood wearing a simple white shirt and blue short pants dyed black from the rain. She was fortunate enough to still have her hair stuck to her back in a long ponytail. Whether it was a dark red or black in this downpour, none could tell. Blood tried to seep from wounds lining her hands, arms, and one large but shallow cut along her stomach. It was washed away in an instant.

This time, Gillian ran toward her assailants. Lightning flashed behind her. The bounty hunters were taken by surprise as she rushed into the group of ten, stabbing one of them in the side as she moved to swing at another. Her opponent managed a guard, taking a light cut to the shoulder. She took a step back, avoiding a swing from her left and a counter from the man she had just hit. The stabbed man took a step forward but slipped, too injured from the wound. Nine to go. One woman charged her with another man following. The woman lunged forward with a sword unlike the others, a rapier. The tip grazed her side, distracting Gillian long enough for the man who had followed to jump forward, his blade landing a deep cut on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth and slashed with her dagger arm, cutting the man's throat. The woman tried lunging at Gillian as a wave crashed into the ship, knocking both of them off balance and sending one of the other men overboard. Seven to go.

She dropped her cutlass to her feet, her shoulder too weak to properly wield it. The woman wielding the rapier took another lunge, Gillian stepped back as she deflected it with the dagger. The other six men and women formed a half-circle in front of her. She squeezed the dagger with her hand as hard as she could and shut her eyes. She opened them just as the rapier was about to pierce her stomach, her eyes now an infernal red. She slashed the blade away and drove her dagger into the woman’s neck, tearing it out and lodging it in the eye of a man to her right. Another wave threw the man and her blade across the deck, leaving her unarmed. Five to go.

A smile spread across their faces in unison, as if they were one collective opponent. Three of the attackers stepped toward her, one with a cutlass, one wielding two daggers of alternate sizes, and another with a steel-bladed hatchet. The other two stepped back. The cutlass slashed her arm as she dodged away from the twin blades. Before the man with the cutlass could swing again, she pivoted, darting at him and ripping at his jugular with claws now sharp as the steel of their blades. She flashed her fangs at the others, intimidating the axe wielder who took a step back. The dual-bladed woman remained steadfast and rushed her with a cyclone of slashes. Gillian dropped low to the floor on her back, using the watery deck to slide underneath the woman. She tore wildly at the backs of her ankles as she slid by. The woman dropped to one knee, her left tendon shredded and bleeding, she was as good as dead. Three to go. Before Gillian could return to the hatchet wielder, she spotted the other two attackers fighting her first mate, Lillia, across the deck by the wheel. She knelt on all fours and rushed forward, leaping into the air over the stairs and railing. She landed with her claws in both of their necks, dragging them to the deck with her. She continued to tear away at them like a feral beast until Lillia grabbed her shoulder. Gillian whipped her head around with intent before realizing who it was. Her first mate had a gleam of gratitude in her eyes and a reassuring smile. Gillian stood, flashed a sharp, toothy grin back, and moved to the railing. One to go, she thought, before spotting two more men and Dy-Lee standing next to the hatchet wielder. The clouds moved enough for the moon to shine down on the ship.

Lee had a smile so wide that it looked to Gillian as though it would be painful. He held a straight sword tipped with a shining silver point in his left hand and a pistol like none she had seen before. A revolver, she recalled from the stories her mother read to her as a kid. A beast hunter's weapon. The firearm was small with a fat, cylindrical barrel and a smooth wooden handle lined with silver etching. He had black hair in a similar ponytail to Gillian, but draped around and hung low in front of his right shoulder. He wore a white shirt under a black captain's vest, with standard-issue black tight pants. His vest had what appeared to be a belt of bullets pinned to it, running along his left shoulder. Each bullet had a glistening sheen, easily visible even in the downpour. Gillian knew she stood little chance, but fighting was her only shot at saving her crew.

She dropped down to the main deck and cautiously walked toward her opponents. As she approached, Dy-Lee took out Gillian’s dagger that had been lodged in one of his men and threw it over to her. He nodded his head. She picked up the blade, her eyes never leaving his. Lee turned and nodded to his men, who all proceeded to stand back. He took out a coin from his pocket and held it out towards her, a quizzical look on his face as he pointed up at his head and then down to the deck. Gillian knew little about Dy-Lee, but she had heard of his career as a prolific bounty hunter and gambler. And despite her hatred of him, he was considered a fearless duelist. She tapped her head and stood ready with the dagger in hand. Lee flipped the coin, catching it mid-air. Opening his palm, he smiled and lowered it so she could see. Heads. Her move.

Lee spread his arms wide in an inviting stance before returning to a defensive position, sword in front of him. Gillian took a deep breath, her body running low on adrenaline. She took two large steps before bringing her dagger in for a side slash. He deflected it with the hilt of his blade and pushed her back, returning with a vertical cut, narrowly missing her wounded shoulder. He followed with a side slash aimed at the neck, she blocked it but broke her stance in the process, sending her to the floor. She scrambled to her feet but was too late. The sword came down in the centre of her forehead, opening a gash. Blood and water would have blinded her, but the searing pain forced her eyes shut. She knew she had lost. Lost the duel, she thought, but not their lives. Not yet. The thunder intensified.

She felt the sword tip on her head, a symbol of his victory. Dy-Lee may be considered a feared bounty hunter, she thought, but he has never accepted just any bounty. She was worth little as a pirate. He has only ever accepted the most lucrative of contracts, the Feral Hunts. Similarly, many thought her prized ship, the Lazuli, to be named the Seawolf, but in truth, it was Gillian who held the title of The Seawolf. She could barely make out the click of his gun over the booming clouds.

She raised her gaze to the sky and let loose a howl loud enough to drown out the very sky and ocean. Lee stumbled back before letting loose four rounds in front of him. All missed, in the blink of an eye, Gillian leapt and soared above him, landing on two of the men behind him and throwing them overboard. Lee turned to face her. A thick greyish blue fur coat covered her from head to toe, her frame had changed to that of an imposing wolf-like beast over eight feet tall with limbs stretching an unnatural five feet. Her claws had grown far longer than her dagger, and her teeth long enough to match the now-useless blade. Her eyes lit up like a fire raging against the storm. She roared towards Lee, a roar loud enough to deafen his last remaining boarded man. Lee signalled his ship to come around, ready to retreat. He unloaded the remaining two shells at her, landing one in her right shoulder as she dashed on all fours towards him. He took one claw to the wrist before his sword could shield him from the other four. She continued swiping at him while on her hind legs, occasionally catching his skin. After several cuts, Lee pushed all of his weight into the blade, jerking it upward and piercing just below her collarbone. She recoiled, the wound smoking. He reloaded his gun one shell at a time, stopping at three before unloading each of them into her. Two landed in her chest while the third took out her left eye. She roared again, lunging forward and slapping the gun out of his hand. He gripped his sword with both hands before glancing over his shoulder. She slashed at his face, her claws gliding over his right eye and cheek. He rolled to pick up his gun before jumping overboard while the Stake Driver passed by. He caught a rope halfway down the side of the ship and climbed it up to the deck. The thunder calmed, if only slightly.

Gillian sat back on her hind legs ready to leap over to the Stake Driver before a hand gripped partway around her soaked arm. She snarled as she moved to swipe at her assailant. The claws cut through the flesh of Lillia’s forearm, the cuts too shallow to be lethal. The beast took two steps away before kneeling and lowering her head. A hand rested atop her, scratching between each ear. Friend, the Seawolf thought, need rest. The Stake Driver sailed back the way it came towards the Capital Breach, while the Lazuli continued westward through the wastes. Even as a flea-addled beast, she knew they would see Dy-Lee again. And next time, he will already know exactly what she is capable of. She howled, with the rolling thunder as her chorus.