New clothes. Regular meals. A soft bed. Community to call home. And guidance and support as she transitioned into a new life, in a new world, with nothing to her name but a ratty backpack of belongings and barely a month’s worth of personal history. Seste had arrived at the Trading Post just a couple weeks ago, fished out of the sea and out of the jaws of death by a passing merchant ship; Castor.
And now, just a couple weeks later, she felt those jaws of death breathing hot breath down the back of her neck once again. Pirates, just off the coast.
Seste hadn’t seen any of the action out at sea, but she’d heard about it. The..