Sam Roddy

Secret Song of the Sea

“Wench! Half hour, then you’re out,” the sailor called down to her. Sabine didn’t answer. The cell reeked of bile and the iron tang of blood long dried on her clothes. She had long been familiar with death before boarding and now, bound in chains and minutes away from her own, it felt like an old friend. She stared at her bound hands and chafed wrists. There was still some blood under her nails.