"MAYRA!!" Peter screamed, launching himself across the deck at her. He skidded to a stop in front of her, kneeling, afraid to touch her for fear of making the injury worse, whatever it was. His eyes combed her face, head, and neck, but not finding the source of the bleeding, he took her by the shoulders.
"Mayra! Mayra, tell me where. Where are you hurt?" He demanded.
Her eyes didn't focus on him immediately, and his angst grew.
"Peter?" She asked vaguely.
"Yes, it's me, I'm here. Where are you hurt?" He asked, a little more gently. He needed the question to get through to her.
"Peter." She said a little more clearly, blinking and focusing on his face. Her eyes filled with tears, and his heart broke. He suppressed the emotion to deal with the situation.
A sob escaped her throat and she threw her arms around his neck. He paused, wanting to comfort her, but also wanting not to injure her further.
"Where? Where is it?" He asked.
"Where is what?" She responded, drawing back in confusion. She looked down at the medical bag beside her. "Do you need medical supplies?"
"I don't know," He took a deep breath, trying hard to push away the frustration he felt. She must be in shock. "How bad is your injury?"
She stared at him for several seconds. "I'm not hurt."
"Mayra," He took her hands gently, and lifted them to her eye line. "You're covered in blood."
"Not mine," She shook her head, and a wave of relief flooded through him. He nearly sagged to the deck as the tension of feeling she might be dying left him. "Barnabas. I couldn't save… I tried my best."
Peter had been so intent on Mayra that he had completely overlooked the body of the man lying on the deck beside her. His eyes were closed, and he did not breathe.
"I'm sorry, Mayra. I know you did your best. I'm sure he was glad to have you with him in the end." Peter grimaced at how cliche the comforting words probably sounded. He meant them well.
Tears overflowed her eyes, and Peter opened his arms, now understanding that her quest for comfort was emotional, not physical. Mayra fell into them sobbing. He didn't care that she got blood on his clothes, or that the boat might still be sinking. There was not much he could do about either of those things. What he could do was support her while she worked through the grief of seeing a man die.
"It was my stupid plan. It's my fault." She cried. "And I couldn't do anything. You were right. I shouldn't have said anything, and I shouldn't have come."
"Shhh," He pulled her so that he was sitting with his back to the railing, and she was curled into his side like a sobbing child. "Your plan was the best one anyone thought of, or no one would have agreed to it. This man volunteered for the chance to save his people from the famine of poor fishing. And, Mayra, look at me." He tilted her chin up.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and pouring tears. She looked broken inside.
"Hear me on this. Assuming we can keep the ship afloat and get to shore, your plan was a success." He didn't want to encourage her to come up with more outlandish plans in the future, but she deserved the truth in this moment of despair.
"What?" She blinked at him.
"I'll make whatever apology you want. We got the nets in. Something enormous chased off the attacking sea creatures. Have you noticed we stopped getting pummeled?"
Her sobs wracked his soul. In the army, the burden of commanding others, possibly to their deaths, was one that had been ingrained. Though Mayra had to have known that her plan had heavy risks involved, seeing the consequences so close and so clearly was taking a toll on her.
He hugged her tightly, and she sobbed into his shirt.
"Shhhhhh," He hushed her. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, but he wasn't entirely sure of that just yet.
The atmosphere around them seemed to be slowly calming. The stench of all the rotting flesh that had been pulled aboard was foul. Men were throwing what they could overboard as they cut it free from the net, but there was just so much of it.
The captain of the vessel walked by, stopping when he saw Barnabas's body. He cleared his throat to gain their attention, and Peter helped Mayra to her feet.
"I've been apprised of the situation with Barnabas. Being injured or killed by a shark is a risk on any voyage, not just this mission. I won't say it's common, but it does happen. Your efforts to save him were admirable, and I thank you for them." He gave Mayra a stiff half-bow, and she self-consciously pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket. It was blood-soaked, and her tears threatened to begin afresh.
Peter quickly pulled out his own and offered it to her, and she hurriedly wiped her face and nose before answering the Captain.
"I am sorry I could not do more." She said.
"You have done enough. The net is in, and the sea appears far calmer already. This plan of yours may have saved us from starvation this winter."
"The hull breach–" Peter began to ask.
"Patched enough to get us to shore, with the help of the pumps, I hope. Thank you for your help as well. I saw how you aided, though you had no training. It made a difference, and I'm glad you were here. You'd make a fine sailor, if you wanted." The Captain grasped Peter's shoulder before moving on to attend to other matters.
Peter's chest swelled with pride at the thanks. He didn't particularly have a desire to be a sailor, but he knew that compliments among the Cetoans were not common, and he appreciated the gesture.
"You hear that, Mayra? You're a hero. You can join the ranks of myself and your brother." Peter teased.
She looked down at Barnabas. A couple of sailors had been sent by the Captain to collect the body, and she was quiet as he was taken away.
"I don't feel like a hero," She said.
"That's probably the main mark of a hero… except for Riley."
That earned him a small smile.
"He's always felt like a hero," Mayra added. "If he so much as got something down from a high shelf, he expected the praise of a celebrated warrior."
"I can imagine," Peter smiled, though he knew that Riley was one of the few men he would want most to have around in a truly dangerous situation. He'd give the man all the praise he wanted afterward, provided they both survived.
"And what about you? Do you feel like a hero?" Mayra's voice turned contemplative. "You saved so many lives before, and just now, to get such high praise from the Captain... Does it make you feel proud, or sad?"
"A mix," Peter said. "Very few important things produce only one emotion, I think."
Mayra's eyes narrowed slightly. Her mouth dropped open as if she were about to speak, and then closed again. Her eyes drifted to the left, a little lost in thought.
"What's that expression for?" He asked curiously.
"I… was just thinking about how you said I make you miserable." She admitted.
"But now you know how to stop that," He reminded her with a little grin.
Her eyes flashed, and she rocked up onto her tiptoes and lifted her chin before immediately dropping back to her heels.
"Sorry. You're far too tall. I can't reach." Her lips twitched, "I suppose I'll just have to wait until I grow as tall as you."
"You're going to leave me in agony forever?" He put on a tragic expression.
"It's possible I could still grow!" She defended herself. "Riley's tall! My other brothers are tall!"
"It's probably more likely for me to shrink than for you to grow any more," He teased.
"Very funny," Mayra's mouth twisted in chagrin. "Making fun of me is surely the way to get everything you desire."
"It's worked better than I had hoped so far," He chanced a wink, and she blushed. This was definite progress. He'd distracted her momentarily from her grief about the man who had died, though when she glanced down at her bloody hands, her face crumpled again.
Blast.
"Let's get washed up," He said. All his efforts at helping her would amount to very little as long as she had such a vivid reminder of death smeared across her. A change of clothing would have to wait until they made it to shore, but at the very least, they could get her hands clean.
She swayed as the ship rocked on a wave, and he offered her his arm. She pulled on it sharply enough to bring him down, and planted a brief kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, Peter." She whispered. "You're a good…" She paused, and he was afraid she would say 'friend' and crush him.
"Comforter," She finished, and his heart swelled.