The reality of the situation was beginning to settle in for Serenica.
She would never share cheap wine with Helen again. She would never again be able to preach about responsibility to her best friend, because her best friend was dead, lying as a burnt crisp of a corpse in the sand of a cove that was hidden from the respectable world. Serenica could not respect anything anymore. She had lost everything. Her friend, her home, her captain.
She held Helen's body in her lap and cried.
She didn't know how long she had been tearing up and screaming until the strong hand of the first mate squeezed her shoulder.
"Come on, let's give her a proper burial. It's the least we can do for her."
