They say it's always good to keep track of things when a new chapter in life begins and when an old chapter ends. And while I can see how keeping a journal will help, all I can think of is eating some real, warm food once we get off this ship.

         "Approaching dock!" the lookout yelled from above. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of old wood crept up to my nose. It had been three years since I left my hometown to travel with my parents. And when I opened my eyes, everything was just like how we left it: drunk fisherman slapping each other over a couple whiskeys, young children tottering behind carts of fruit, hoping to sneak in an apple, and as always, the king’s navy ships. They were the strongest ships on the land, specifically for conquests or to transport royal subjects.

         While the ships were usually donned with banners of his Majesty's royal colors of bright purple, this time, there was a string of small posters lining the sides of each ship.

         "They say King Alberdeen is looking to recruit young men to find a cure for the princess's curse." My father walked up beside me and rested his arms on the ship. Despite being a simple tradesman with kind eyes, my father always knew what the latest news was in town. "Of course, no one has actually seen it. All they know is that the servants can hear terrifying screams every night from her high tower." Gently ruffling my hair, he sighed. "It's a shame we had to leave Dove's Cove. You’ll soon realize this place isn't as warm, open, or fun." I let my head sink until my chin rested on the rough, jagged edges of the ship.

         "You were the one who said I had to 'go off on my own' to sell all our goods this time," I said, trying to make it out like I was more unhappy than I actually was. I slyly watched my father for a reaction, but all he did was grin sheepishly. I made a face and groaned. "I could've spent more time talking to all the veteran traders from different countries – hear their stories and really learn some hard skills. But oh well…" 

         Suddenly I felt a pair of small, strong hands grip my shoulders and lift my head up from behind. The familiar smell of sea salt and roses breezed through the air.

         "You know plenty of veteran traders already," my mother said, with her usual no-nonsense attitude. Fixing my posture, she began adjusting my wrinkled green tunic from slouching over my shoulders. I broke away from her grasp and folded my arms.

         "You two do not count," I retorted. "There were people from all over the world living there! I'd be a lot more prepared if we had stayed longer." Dove's Cove had become my home, and I desperately did not want to return to a land with traditional people and a power-hungry king. My mother's soft blue eyes crinkled as she laughed and shook her head.

         "We stayed there for three years, Alma. How much longer did you want? It's high time you accepted your role in trade and step out of your comfort zone. Unknown land is great for exploring." Glancing at my father, the two suddenly began reminiscing about how they once captured a giant bear that had too many thumbs. I rolled my eyes and watched as my brother and sister bickered over a small green turtle scurrying on deck. Looking at the little green turtle helplessly moving about, I couldn't help but worry about the kind of dangers I would have to face. A trader's first outing was never easy. Even before we had talked about my first outing, my parents gave me a gift which seemed to imply that danger would be inevitable.

         It was truly the strangest gift I had ever received.

                                                                                          ~*~ 

         "I can't really that say I'm surprised…but I honestly thought you were dead at some point," I confessed, albeit relieved. I quickly covered my mouth as soot dissipated into the air. Both slightly dark and burnt, my parents looked like they had just walked out of a volcano.

         "Sometimes deals get tricky when the other party doesn't really agree with your terms," my mother said absentmindedly. Tossing her bag in my direction, she began to pick off dark, violet scales from her coat. I yelped as her knapsack burned against my fingers.

         "Isn't that just stealing?" I asked. My father patted me on the shoulder as his deep, throaty laugh rumbled throughout our tiny cottage.

         "It takes a while to convince a dragon," he said, plucking straw-like brown fur out of his pocket. "Especially when the creature is particularly fond of collecting magical pig figurines." Not even knowing how to respond, I looked to my mother, hoping for a more reasonable explanation. Instead, she reached for my hands. I saw her weary face showing newly formed lines that traveled along the hallows of her cheeks. The atmosphere in the room had grown suddenly serious, and I got nervous as she squeezed my hands. "Please let it not be a long-lost sibling," I internally begged.

         "It's your… going away present," she said slowly. "It’s something very special, and we thought it would be useful for you to have. Especially now that you're leaving to become a trader on your own." My shoulders immediately sank with relief. I would gladly handle a small gift over a new sibling any day. 

          From her pocket, she gently brought out a small, gold charm that was attached to an equally bright gold chain. Taking a closer look, I saw a pair of winged pigs: one was fat and smiling, while the other was thin and grumpy. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen.

         "Is this what kids like nowadays?" I cautiously asked as she placed the necklace in my hands. "I didn't realize the trend was to attach wings to farm animals."

         "Well, we can't attest to that, but we do know that it's just what you need. The luckiest luck charm ever." My mom exchanged proud looks with my dad. Then the two broke out laughing and continued to unpack their goods as if the entire exchange didn't even happen. Staring at the necklace, I couldn't help but feel like something was off. For a quick second, the thought of the underground black market flitted through my mind. But when I protested and tried to convince them to sell it for more, my parents insisted that it would protect me from anything dangerous–as if something was definitely going to happen. 

                                                                                         ~*~ 

It gets annoying to write these logs when you have little pigs dangling from your neck. They make me feel ridiculous. My parents insist that I wear them, but I have no idea if they'll even do any good. When I go to bed, I’m taking these things off.