Dawn threatened the edge of the Horizon as the light of a hooded lantern guided Oliver and Torim through the dark and allowed the men to carry and fasten their new empty barrels on their vessel. Eager to journey out in the early hours of the morning in hope of catching the high tide. Business was brimming these days; the pirates had intercepted too many trade ships off the coast which meant there was less supply. With less supply, came more demand for Oliver and Torim to bring in fish.

Back and forth the boat rocked as the slow onslaught of tiny waves churned below it, pushed by weak frosty winds that nipped at the uncovered patches in their clothing.

“Got everything?” the deep husk of Torim’s voice broke a long silence.
“Yeah,” Oliver returned, fastening a knot to one of the barrels “You?”
“All good. Ma gave us a pie, we should eat it before it goes bad.”

Oliver looked up from his knot to smile toward the burlier man, this was about as good as it got when it came to small talk. “We could save a bit. It will keep for a bit in this weather,” he replied, looking down at the reddish tint of his fingers “too bloody cold for my liking.” Rubbing his hands together to rid himself of the touch of the cold, Oliver watched Torim closely and followed his eyeline toward the mast. It was time for them to hoist the sails and set off on their catch.
“Let’s pray the harvest is better than it was last year,” the fisherman said, wandering round the starboard side to help Torim who returned only a grunt in response.

Heave, he could feel the slight tingle of the coarse texture of the halyards rub against his skin. It was unlikely. They would have to work hard to find a spot where the fish hadn’t been entirely depleted or close to depletion of its resources. In these kinds of times most of the boats that went out for a haul were in competition with each other. Some were better than others of course, but every community had that guy who just did not want to play fair.

Heave, the sound of the sails began to flap softly in the backdrop of Oliver’s thoughts as he continued to grip the lines.
“Heave,” the word came effortlessly from Torim’s mouth as the burly man encouraged his littler brother to put in his best work. Ever since they were children Oliver had lived in the shadow of Torim. Built for strength, it was always Torim that was good at the more practical side of life while Oliver excelled in less physical tasks.

“Heave…” the word came again and again and again. Until they finally stopped. Here was the final pull, the light at the end of the tunnel as Oliver grunted and secured the line to a cleat.

As they always did, the brothers took their positions with Oliver at the tiller ready to back up his brother as Torim ran around the ship and kept it running. It was time for them to embark on another ordinary adventure.