You were breathing heavy when you made it to shore, but the winds hadn't favored the Punk Victoria, and you made it to the beach without having to ditch the rowboat.

The winds hadn't exactly favored you, either, and the ship wasn't that far away. They'd be weighing anchor and row boating themselves to shore shortly. You needed to be as far lost and gone into the woods as possible.

You were already acutely aware this wasn't Three Rivers Island, but with luck it would be big enough for you to disappear into it for long enough. Your survival skills weren't exactly expert level, but you knew a lot of fruits and foods available in the area thanks to the heavy commerce of your home island. There was a small harpoon in the row boat, something maybe for just holding the small vessel next to a boat while the occupants left, but it was sharp and came with enough rope you could tie it to yourself.

Fortune favors the bold, or something.

You smile, taking a bite of the lobster tail and nodding. "No, you're not wrong." You admit. You were enjoying yourself. The meal was fantastic, and Kid was remarkably good at carrying a conversation. For someone with impressive scars and a missing arm, he didn't let either hold him back.

He looked different too. Dressed in clothes that any merchant would appreciate, with his hair falling down around his face in messy loose waves. He had a metal arm, but it was much smaller than you'd seen before, and was mostly concealed by the puffy sleeves of the shirt he wore.

"In the end though, I like it here." You say easily. "It might not be the life I dreamed of having, but it's functional."

He smirks, and you're sure a couple people joined his crew because of that smirk. "Functional's hardly living. I've seen how you work, didja ever think of being a pirate?"

You almost choke, laughing a little and waving your hand. "Pirate? By the seas." You shake your head. "I don't have the constitution for that. I barely like the blood I see when the cook's prepping meals."

You wanted to get as high as you could for starters. If you could get your bearings sea-wise you had a far better chance of making it back to your home. If Three-Rivers wasn't visible on the horizon then you'd have to weigh a few unpalatable options.

Did you turn yourself into the pirates who were hunting you? Trapped on a ship might be better than left effectively for dead on an island that may or may not be able to support you.

Did you attempt to sneak back on board the ship as a stowaway until the next port? You were small, and the crew wasn't many in number. The ship was huge, so keeping yourself out of sight and sneaking crumbs was plausible. But if you got caught you were probably going to be worse off than if you surrendered yourself.

Your last option, if you couldn't see another island from whatever vantage point you found, would be simply taking your chances on this island. The idea of living alone on a, most likely, deserted island for an indeterminate amount of time until a friendly-looking boat stopped by wasn't exactly high on your list of options.

But if you passed fresh water on your way into the interior, and found some fruiting trees, then it wasn't an impossible option. The longer you could dodge your pursuers the better your chances of making the most viable decision.

Diving into the underbrush, you do your best to avoid snapping twigs or bending anything, walking gingerly through the forest. You were less thrilled about not having shoes right now, but it was easier to tread softly without heavy shoes, you just had to ignore anything that squished between your toes.

Ten minutes in you found a creek, and stepping into it found it was pleasant temperature wise, and the silt was well packed. It wasn't like walking on rocks, but it wasn't slick with algae or deep and muddy. You kept your feet in the water as you walked to avoid splashing, but you hadn't heard any concerning sounds since you got into the woods.

The crew was likely just now coming ashore as it was.

"A second date?" You look down at the ground for a second. "I..."

"You had fun." It's not a question, it's a statement. The confidence would usually rankle you, but not only is he not wrong, he knows he's not. It's not hollow confidence.

"I did." You admit, looking away with a scowl on your face.

"We're in for another couple of days. Not tomorrow night, the night after. Just," He bends over a little, turning his head to catch your eyes before he smiles. "Walk along the beach with me. Let me talk to you."

"Talk?" You cock an eyebrow at him, and he flips you off.

"Yes, talk. You brat." He nearly barks the words. It's disconcerting that he looks hotter when he's a little hot under the collar. "I said I wasn't going to force my way into your damn pants."

You smile, closing the short distance between the two of you and kissing the tip of his nose quickly. The action causes him to freeze in place for a second. "Sorry, I didn't mean to irritate you, cap'n."

You needed to follow the stream for as long as you could. If there were enough rocks for you to come out on you'd consider it. In the dark it wouldn't be so easy to notice as a wet foot mark, especially since they'd have to watch every inch of the creek's banks while they pursued you.

You were focused on reaching a vantage point, but you realized that your biggest problem was that you had rowed your happy ass for nearly forty minutes to reach this island. The crew had been on a ship. The really big pirate crew, with bounties that proved how formidable they were, and by association, how much stamina they had.

You shook the thought from your head. One problem at a time. You weren't racing them to a destination, you were trying to get yourself lost in a jungle enough to not get caught. You didn't need to have an excess of stamina to manage that.

You were tired though. Rowing was a whole body activity, and trudging through a jungle wasn't easy either, especially with the slight incline you were dealing with from working your way into the interior.

You noticed a big, leafy tree, and decide to climb it. Barefoot tree climbing was something you'd done as a kid, but adult you was far less thrilled about it. It took a couple minutes, but you managed to get comfortable in a thick collection of branches. You had a good view of the sky, a bad view of the ground, but up in the tree you could rest a little.

You didn't need line of sight to the ground to be able to hear either, so you'd be able to hear if any of those oafs wandered nearby.

You had walked the mostly deserted shores of the island with Eustass for almost two hours. All the two of you had done was talked. He talked about his crew, their adventures, their plans, and he kept reassuring you that you'd be safe from harm with him. You talked to him about your life on Three Rivers Island, dreams you'd let go of, the quiet life you enjoyed.

"It is a tempting off, I'll admit." You muse quietly, watching the waves roll in for the nighttime high tide, sitting on a patch of grass as the fire Kid was starting warmed the area. "But I mean it truly, I'm not a fighter. You can't possibly have use of a barmaid on your crew."

He scoffs, the clipped grunted laugh shaking his shoulders once. "I don't. I'm not asking you to join the crew because I want to make use of you." He admits. His back is to you, his eyes on the fire, or out to sea, you weren't sure. You imagined there was a heat in his cheeks he didn't want you to see.

Heat that was in your own cheeks, admittedly.

You'd been wooed before, by sailor, merchant, and wretch alike. You weren't a stranger to sharing a bed with someone, but working in a bar meant you knew how most sailors and pirates viewed someone like you and it left a sour taste in your mouth. You had nothing against being promiscuous, you only detested anyone thinking it was expected of you.

"Are you going to make me say it?" He asks. There's an edge to his voice, some of it sounds like anger, but most of it sounds like embarrassment.

"... No. I... I can't leave with you. I can't return it, so I won't ask you to say it." You admit. There's a pain in your chest, a sadness in your voice. Neither are there to appease him. You really had been enjoying yourself. If you thought there was any chance he'd accept, you'd offer for him to stay on Three Rivers.

"It's there though." He says flatly. It's not a question, and so you don't answer it, but you already know he wouldn't say it unless he was certain.

You wake up from your brief nap. The sky is a little brighter than before, but not by much. Dawn is approaching, but there won't be any real light for another hour. You stay still for a moment, listening to the surrounding area as best you can before you descend from the tree and continue the hike into the island's interior.

If Kid and the crew walked through the night they might very well be ahead of you. They also might still be behind you, if they hadn't managed to pick up your trail then they'd be forced to hunt tree by tree. Of all the little skills you'd picked up over the course of your life, tracking someone in the wilds was not one of them. Unless they left painfully obvious signs of passage, you weren't going to know where they were until you heard them. Fortunately, the little nap you'd had, put some life back into your limbs and it was easier to move than it had been.

The soft light of the impending dawn was enough to help you get a better idea of the island. You passed several trees that produced fruits and nuts you could eat, and knew how to eat. The stream you'd traveled in was fresh and clear – you might get a stomachache for a couple of days adjusting to water different from your own island, especially since you didn't have any survival gear, but as long as there weren't any poisonous plants growing along the riverbed it wouldn't be fatal.

Considering how comfortable the night had been, the days probably got warm and humid, but you and your clothes could easily adjust. This island wasn't likely to have much of an autumn, never mind winter, so you wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death before someone came along. Your biggest problem, assuming you needed to stay here, was going to be maintaining your sanity. Humans were social creatures, and isolation could crack a lot of people.

The land evens out as the sun rises fully. Again, you were glad your clothes were darker shades. If you'd worn pastels you'd be another beacon against the darker shades of the deep forest. Looking around you found a promising tree, grumbling only a little as you began another barefoot climb.

Your first order of business was going to be making shoes out of something. It was harder climbing this tree than the last one because your feet were torn up from the first climb. It was small wounds, nothing that was bleeding badly, or in need of stitches, but the callouses you had from being on your feet all the time could only protect you from so much.

At the very least you could make a ladder from driftwood and gather fruits and nuts without more climbing.

"I wonder how long it would take to whittle a pair of clogs from driftwood?" You mutter to yourself as you brace against the tree's topmost branches. Scanning the horizon you can see the Victoria Punk anchored off the coast, and work your way around to the other side of the tree carefully.

Moving branches aside with the end of the spear you look out over the horizon. You could see the outline of an island in the distance. It was possibly Three Rivers. You were hungry, but you hadn't been ravenously hungry, so it was unlikely you'd been passed out in Kid's bed for days. Chances were this was just the day after your beach date.

So this was probably the Countess – an uninhabited island that some of the merchants would vacation on from time to time. Perfect. That meant that aside from a few territorial birds, there weren't any aggressive animals on the island to be wary of. Plenty of nuts and fruits, a decent supply of fish, you were certain, and the chances of rescue were incredibly high.

If it was the Countess, it was still Three River on the horizon, and with little more than time on your hands you could start building a boat. Rowing from here to there would be exhausting, but not impossible. Three Rivers had a yearly rowboat contest that went around the entire island. It took three days, and competitors slept and ate in the rowboats.

Island currents and open ocean were two different beasts, however, so it was certainly a last resort idea.

Climbing down from the tree you stayed by the trunk for a moment, trying to listen for any sounds. Countess Island wasn't very big. Hopefully it was big enough you could continue to shake a crew of a dozen or so pirates, but that was your biggest challenge right now. There wasn't enough land to really get lost.

You needed a cave or root hollow to hide in, and the sooner the better.

"Hm?" A glimmer in the growing daylight catches your eye, but as you turn to look it disappears. You look around more, senses on edge, when you feel something cold against your wrist a second too late.

Pulling your arm away does little more than clamp the spiky metal bracer into place. A force you can't fight pulls you down into the dirt with a sharp tug.

"Shit!" Just as you hit the ground your arm's yanked up and back pulling you through the air before you slam into the tree behind you. The spike's locked into the rough bark and you're effectively pinned to the tree.

Your whole body aches from being jerked around, but your shoulder's screaming the worst. If it's not dislocated, it's not far from it. You're too far up the trunk to touch the ground with your feet, so your battered soles are trying to find footing against the bark again.

A sense of dread washes over you. You're not worried about your shoulder or the bark anymore. You're not just caught, you're being stalked. Hunted. You had a healthy dose of fear and respect for Kid and his crew, but this is the first time you're scared down to your bones.

You recognize Conqueror's Haki, it's quieted streets on Three River several times before now, but you've never had it feel like this. It's not washing over you, it's slipping under your skin and clawing at your muscles, almost like it's threatening to tear your organs from you if you succumb to it.

"There she is," the sound of his voice pushes you deeper into your rising fear, and you wish you could disappear into the tree itself. There's an almost jovial tone in his voice, but it's manic and on edge, and that edge is pressed against your throat like a knife.

"My little pet mouse."