stole the queen from her bed

The morning was warm and humid, the air thick with the moisture it held, though Cutthroat could not determine the exact position of the sun given the thick obscuring clouds that seemed to keep the blazing orb out of the inky teenager’s view. There was a part of the Pirate that felt weird about leaving Fox’s den - of which he was obligated to share with her so she could keep her eye upon him for though he wore the rank of Sigma he also mentally tacked on Captive because essentially that was what he was in less fancy wording. Fox’s captive. Of course it was more desirable than being a lifeless body in the sea, admittedly, as Cutthroat had first feared he might end up as. Even Cutthroat had to admit that it was no less than he deserved given what he had done. He did not fancy telling any of them that he highly doubted Cutlass and Corsair would be back for him - for a slew of reasons: treason being the primary, secondarily, he didn’t mean that much (if anything really) to either woman, and thirdly, they had no doubt learned from their mistake from the incident with Crossbones. So, no, he did not gather that they would be back and even on the slim chance that they decided too they would not bring Crossbones back with them. Cutthroat was dispensable, easily replaced by the next well built, handsome lad that came traipsing their way.

No, Cutthroat had no intention of spilling those facts or opinions to anyone, any time soon. Not because - though he couldn’t be sure - he got the distinct feeling that was the only reason Fox was bothering to keep him around because she hoped to use him to get Crossbones back; but alas, his hands were tied - there was nothing he could do for either woman. Golden eyes the color of liquid treasure studied his surroundings with muted curiosity as he moved through the lands, salmon pink tongue flicking out to lick the excess blood from his breakfast free from the shorn hairs of his muzzle and lips, before he yawned wide, ears slicking back to his skull and teeth crashing together with sharp little clicks. Despite that he probably should have had nothing but his guard up at all times he slept fairly well considering that he was at Fox’s mercy while he slumbered so near to her.

If circumstances were different, Cutthroat realized with a relative ease (and according sheepishness) that he really wouldn’t have minded sharing a den with the fire kissed leader. She was nothing sort of stunning with the brilliance of her fur, her slender and femme features. However, circumstances were what they were and the Pirate did not think his Captor would be very appreciative of his flirting.

Cutthroat had not made any moves to escape, but also felt the weariness of not being really able to leave the lands claimed by Swiftcurrent Creek in his bones; being a adventurer he wanted to get out and explore and yet he viewed the scent markers that warded off trespassers as heaven touching iron bars keeping him caged in. That left his days with doing whatever he was ordered to do, or just wandering aimlessly as he did that morning, though in simpler terms Cutthroat was enjoying just stretching his legs, and reminiscing about the Sea whose gentle roar and salty brine he found that he missed now that it was no longer a constant in is life.

It was funny what you took advantage of, only realizing what you had until it was gone.