The skies are darkening quickly with the approaching storm, the waves slowly become choppy and uneven. The brute of a captain was leaning over the rails with a bottle in hand and a scowl on his face staring out at the waters before him. Everyone knew this was a sign to stay away from him unless they wanted to lose a favorite finger or limb, depending how generous he was feeling.

The mist began to dampen the ends of fur on his long red coat and the wind carried a heavy scent of petrichor.