You never told them about the box. It sat under your bunk, plain and unremarkable on the outside, but inside it was a secret treasure trove only you knew about. Trinkets collected over months: polished glass, coins, gemstones, scraps of jewelry, even a button or two. Anything shiny. Anything that caught your eye.
It was instinct—you couldn’t help yourself. A crow hybrid, after all, always needed something to tuck away. But the others wouldn’t understand. These were hardened soldiers, predators and warriors. You couldn’t picture Ghost or Soap understanding why you kept a bead you found in an alley. So you kept your box closed.
And cherished it in secret.
On the mission, you’d been helping set up camp. Tents staked, firepit started, perimeter checked. Normal stuff. But then—just as you were laying out supplies—your eye caught something glimmering under the sun.
The river.
You drifted towards it, boots crunching on the bank. There, nestled between two smooth stones, was a piece of quartz, sparkling white and silver under the water’s current. Beautiful. Precious. You reached down—
And another hand landed on it at the same time.
You froze.
Your head snapped up, feathers bristling instinctively. Price stared back, brows raised, the hint of a smirk curling under his beard.
“Caught you, magpie,” he rumbled.
Your beak would’ve clicked if you had one. Heat flushed your face as you immediately let go of the rock, bowing your head. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”
But Price wasn’t scolding you. His taloned fingers plucked the stone free, turning it in the sunlight so it flashed brighter, and for a moment his expression softened. A dragon hybrid. It made sense. His kind hoarded treasures by nature, shiny things no less than gold or silver.
And you—just a crow with a little box—felt suddenly small. You straightened up, forcing a polite smile. “It’s yours, Captain. Dragons need shinies more than crows do.”
You meant it, too. It was enough to know someone else understood the urge.
But then Price did something you didn’t expect.
He pocketed the stone, then reached under his shirt and pulled out a chain. Dangling from it was a small, iridescent scale—silver with a faint shimmer of blue, shifting colors like oil on water. He unhooked it and pressed it into your palm.
Your breath caught.
“Fair trade,” he said simply. “You give me the stone, I give you this.”
You gawked down at it, wings twitching unconsciously, feathers puffing with delight you tried to suppress. This wasn’t just shiny. This was his. A piece of him, shed and kept safe. A dragon scale, warm even in your hand.
“C-Captain, I—” Your voice broke, words stumbling. “I can’t take this.”
“You can,” he replied, tone firm but kind. “Because I gave it.”
You stared at him, then at the scale, then back again. Slowly, you tucked it into your vest pocket, holding it close like it was the rarest treasure in your collection.
Because it was.