Augur's jaw tightened as the woman shifted, clearly testing how loose his hold was. He kept walking, expression flat, as if carrying hostile being was a common chore.
Jack, for his part, seemed delighted by the situation. He kept turning his head as if expecting applause from the dunes.
After a few more minutes of Crocodile's steady, venomous commentary, Jack's patience finally thinned.
"I'm taping her mouth," he announced.
Crocodile's gaze slid toward him with the lazy menace of a predator who didn't need to rush.
"Do that," she said, almost pleasantly, "and I'll put my hook somewhere you won't be able to sit again."
Jack stopped walking.
Augur kept walking two steps, then stopped too, because Jack had stopped and the captain's stupidity had a way of becoming contagious.
Jack blinked.
Then he lifted both hands, palms out in surrender. "Right. No tape. Fully understood. Excellent boundary. Respectable. Admirable even."
"Good."
Jack exhaled through his nose. "I miss the days when my biggest problem was Pintel eating fruit he didn't understand."
Augur's eyes flicked to him. "That was your fault, captain."
Jack looked around. "Anyway, we are headed toward sand. And all I see is sand, sand and more sand."
Augur didn't bother clarifying. "Everyone I saw fleeing was moving the same direction."
Jack pointed vaguely ahead. "And that direction is?"
"Alubarna."
Crocodile's posture changed.
It was subtle, but Augur saw it instantly, and Jack felt it in the way the air shifted.
Her shoulders tensed. Her expression went flat.
Jack slowed his pace. "That name do something to you?"
"It's a city," she said, voice empty. "In a kingdom."
Jack's eyes narrowed. He didn't buy it. Neither did Augur.
Augur, blunt as always, said, "Your reaction suggests history."
"I have no history," she replied.
Jack smiled, but it wasn't the usual grin he wore when he was lying to someone. It was the grin of a man recognizing another liar and enjoying it.
Augur's fingers flexed, as if he considered pressing harder.
Crocodile's gaze slid toward him like a blade.
Augur, to his credit, did not flinch. But he also did not advance the interrogation. There was a difference between fearless and foolish.
Jack hummed. "Well. Injured woman. Desert. Suspicious silence. The day is improving."
Crocodile shifted again, as if preparing to leap off Augur's shoulder.
Augur tightened his grip.
Jack raised a hand. "No, no—put her down."
Augur did, but not gently. Crocodile hit the sand on her feet, wobbling for half a second before she caught herself. Her bandages were poorly done—someone had wrapped them hastily, and now the heat had soaked them through. A dark stain spread along her side.
She straightened anyway, chin lifted, as if her blood had no right to inconvenience her pride.
Jack pointed at her. "You're not running."
Crocodile's lips curled. "I could."
"You won't."
She stared at him for a long beat. Then, with visible disgust at the act of conceding, she said, "I promise."
Jack tilted his head. "Promises from pirates rarely comfort me."
"I'm not—" she began, then stopped, jaw tightening. "…I won't run. Because you won't let me."
Jack seemed satisfied with that. "Excellent. Mutual understanding. We'll call it a friendship."
"We will not."
They walked for another stretch in silence broken only by Jack's occasional complaints about thirst and the sun's "personal vendetta." Augur scanned the dunes, steady and grim. Crocodile walked with controlled stiffness, hiding her injury like it was an insult.
Then Jack squinted.
Ahead, in the distance—green.
Trees. A smear of color in an ocean of sand.
And something that looked like water.
Jack slowed. His eyes narrowed, suspicious now. "If that's a mirage, I'm going to be furious."
Augur's gaze sharpened. He vanished, just a brief distortion of space—and reappeared closer, then again, short hops, as if stepping between cuts in reality.
Jack watched him go with a pitying expression. "He's going to eat sand. Poor guy. Would hate to be him when he realizes what it is."
A moment later, Augur's voice carried back, surprised. "It's real."
Jack's entire body lit up.
He ran.
It was the run of a man who had made a career out of escaping consequences and now believed he was about to outrun death itself. Arms pumping, coat flaring, hat somehow staying on—Jack Sparrow sprinted like the desert owed him water.
Crocodile watched him with an unreadable expression.
Augur remained still, eyes on Jack. "He trusts things too quickly."
Crocodile said, dryly, "He's alive. So perhaps it works."
Jack reached the oasis and dove without hesitation, splashing into the shallow water with a triumphant noise.
He came up coughing, hair plastered to his face, and drank like a man trying to refill his soul.
When he finally surfaced again, he exhaled dramatically and leaned back in the water as if it were a bathtub in a palace.
"I have reclaimed civilization," he declared.
Augur sat down by the edge, cupped water in his hands, and drank with a soldier's discipline.
Crocodile remained standing, gaze drifting upward.
Coconuts hung above them.
She stared at them for a moment too long, then stepped forward and reached up with a faint wince, plucked one free, and cracked it against a rock with practiced ease.
Jack watched, impressed. "You're useful."
Crocodile shot him a look. "Try not to sound surprised."
Jack held out a hand. "As your victorious captor and savior, I request tribute."
Crocodile tossed the coconut at his head.
Jack caught it with a yelp. "Assault! Betrayal! I should've taped your mouth."
Her eyes narrowed.
Jack immediately corrected himself. "A joke. Merely a joke. A harmless jest. No forbidden holes be attacked."
Augur looked away, shoulders faintly shaking—not quite laughter, but the closest he got.
They rested for the better part of an hour. Jack drank until his stomach stopped threatening mutiny. Augur drank until his focus sharpened again. Crocodile ate slowly, watching the horizon as if expecting the desert and the endless sand to absorb her.
When the worst of the thirst eased, Augur spoke again, tone businesslike.
"Alubarna. How far?"
Crocodile didn't answer immediately.
Augur watched her closely. "You know."
Jack, lounging in the water, raised a finger. "Yes, yes—she's the self-proclaimed Queen of the Desert."
A tic appeared in Crocodile's brow.
Jack smiled as if pleased with himself.
Crocodile exhaled through her nose. "It's a day's travel if you walk. Less if you stop whining."
Augur's eyes narrowed. "So you are from Arabasta."
Crocodile's silence was its own confession.
Jack sat up, sudden interest replacing his earlier thirst-driven joy. "So you're a queen here or what?"
Crocodile's gaze snapped to him. "Why would you think that?"
Jack shrugged. "The attitude. The sand. The cigar. The threats. It's all visible, Croco."
She stared. "Stop calling me Croco."
Jack tilted his head, grin returning, infuriatingly casual. "Crocodile is too big and vile a name for a pretty lady. So, Croco."
For a moment, the oasis felt colder than the ice.
Crocodile's fingers flexed as if her hook wanted to remember his face.
Then she looked away, jaw tight, and said nothing—because her injury was real, and for now, she needed the two idiots more than she wanted to kill them.
Jack's smile softened, just a fraction, as if he'd noticed that.
Augur stood. "We move."
Jack groaned and dragged himself out of the water, coat dripping, hat still somehow in place. He shook like a wet dog, then froze when Crocodile's glare intensified.
"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Dignity. We maintain dignity."