She stands at the helm of her ship, boyishly short hair snapping about as her eyes scan over the dark water. Her lips twitch into a grin; this is her sea. Dark gray clouds embrace the sky. A storm is brewing, yet no rain falls. Somewhere on the deck, a fiddle is playing a haunting tune that sends chills up the captain's spine... though perhaps that much is the wind's doing. She's got something many men would kill to have: a map.

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