After half a month of sailing across unpredictable waters, the White Pearl had finally dropped anchor near a small, lush island. The salty sea breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers and fresh herbs growing wild along the shore. Palm trees danced in the wind while seagulls circled lazily overhead.
Standing on the island's simple wooden dock was an old man with rat-like ears and wiry whiskers, dressed in a patched vest and loose trousers. He eyed the majestic ship with both admiration and caution. Behind him stood a few islanders—young men and women with wolf ears, rabbit tails, and alert eyes. They looked strong, well-fed, and battle-hardened despite their rural surroundings.
"You'd better go around," the old man warned, tapping his walking stick against the dock for emphasis. "These water routes up ahead—dangerous for a merchant ship like yours. Especially a fancy one. Pirates call ships like that 'fat sheep.' Easy prey."
