Pirates and Pigs

I had begun to hope that the worst thing that would happen that day would be Madonna's fever. Her wound had become infected, and her health remained negative. She remained pale and unresponsive, whispering obscenities in over a dozen languages, some of which I knew.

Alas, it was the Benapongo who made things worse, showing in eight new people, two of whom I recognized instantly.

"We found these ones on the beach. You will make new huts." the elder said. He was the only tribesman the same from the day before.

"I have those skills." I said. "Where would you have me harvest the wood from?"

He leaned on a tree. "There is wood somewhere on this island." he said.

"That is green wood, living wood." I said. "There will be some dead trees, but..."

He shrugged. "Either you shall make new huts with the resources on this part of the island or you will not."

"Trees? I can kill trees." said one of the Hound's crew.