The island was populated by all sorts of people. Serenica looked for Helen in the crowds dancing around the fires, but she saw no one familiar.
Rum was flowing freely. The smell was almost unbearable, the mixture of booze and pork in the air, along with the smoke, and the gyrating hips of the dancers made Serenica lose what little she had left of her mind.
She wanted to dance and drink, too. She was probably already dead. It felt outrageous to think that even after kicking the bucket, she had to fight and work and complete quests.
She mentioned this thought to Essieca.
The madwoman smiled.
"The world has taken a big bite out of you, Serenica."
"That's damn right," the healer said. "And they had no right to."
She tied her shirt so that her midriff was showing. She grabbed a bottle from a dark young lady who had rum to spare. Everyone had rum to spare. Everyone was smoking tobacco – the air was thick with smoke and the scent of human sweat. This seemed like paradise, not heaven.
