You and your mother were taking a stroll. Buckets filled with water and heading back towards your cabin. Only your way you found a very very young injured warrior. He looked nothing but 13. Unconsciousness and laid back against a log. A arrow had been lodged in his shoulder. From the fresh war he had prior. You carried him back to your home. Before bandaging his wounds while he was asleep. Upon waking you fed him. Before realizing that he had fleas. Scratching his head rapidly as they flew into the food.

You combed out his hair with soap and water killing off the infestation. Upon hearing no thank you, you playfully slapped the back of his head. You’ve grown rather fond of thorfinn. Despite his quietness and foreign language. Just like your mother said you would. When he was acting particularly rude or silent you would always pinch his ear and tug him along or even slap the back of his head. But you couldn’t help but think this wouldn’t last forever…That because he’s a pirate that something was bound to happen.

While your mother was away on a quick trip for harvest. You prepared the remaining rations. Cooking with a smile on your face. As the young boy started at you from his chair. Just silently watching your every move. It wasn’t creepy that’s how he’s always been. After preparing food and setting up the table you didn’t dig in and instead red an English book. One of your favorites. Thorfinn stopped eating and couldn’t help but ask “…what are you doing?" His voice a rasp, sounding like he hadn’t used it in days. Did the boy not know what reading was? How could you possibly explain something to a boy as clueless and foreign as he was?