He fingered his coin lovingly. Bright...pretty...lucky too, he’d be bound. The others were spending theirs but he would keep his close. His gaze fell on the hulking figure of the boatswain, dusky skin studded with steel. Perfect...

When they came for his coin, he clutched his leg protectively and began to scream, but they held him down, sharp knives digging deep. The coin stuck tight, reluctant to leave and eventually they lost patience and pulled out an axe.

They plucked the coin hot from the ashes of his leg and he carved himself a new one and cursed his luck.



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