The Follower

The storm raged over the top of the tired crew as they tried to maintain their shelter. The wind whipped away at them as they gathered the same wood over and over; each time the planks were more battered and wet and the men cursed each other for bringing this fate on them. It seemed no one remembered being the one to suggest that they stay close to the water to wait out this monster.

In the first waves of the storm, Jason Gresham saw the first mate Jackie Swallow head towards the woods carrying something cradled in her arms. It had to be important. He had been a good crewman up until this point because that was what he did; but that wasn't why he was here. On this voyage. In this life. He was here to be filthy rich. The last thing his sister told him before she left on a voyage of her own years before was ringing in his ears now more than ever.

"Follow Jackie Swallow."

He had to listen. If he was ever going to see her again or find the treasure that she came searching for, he had to follow the first mate into the woods.

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