Delta Touchette sheathed her machete and nodded in self-satisfaction. For the Monster of Ebony Island was, of course, no monster at all. Just an ordinary man. But perhaps, not so ordinary. Delta took a cautious step forward to get a closer look at the person she was spying in the clearing ahead. Oh, he was most unpleasant. Filthy he was, with long, snarled, and disheveled hair, and an even worse beard. And that beard was becoming more unsightly every moment. For the man was gnawing on some such bones he was pulling from the fire in front of him, seeming to care not at all what dropped or dripped onto his whiskers. His fingernails were long and yellow—the same color as his skin. Occasionally, he looked up from his unwholesome repast to flash a set of crooked yellow teeth at the crates, boxes, and chests that surrounded him in his den. Ill-gotten gains, no doubt. Delta pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. Why, of course! She was looking at none other than the Pirate of Diamond Island.
