Mid 1700s Caribbean Islands

Isabella Mendoza woke with a start. Peering around in the semi- darkness, she remembered. Today was the day. She slipped out of bed, her bare feet softly hitting the carpeted floor. Peeking through the heavy curtains that covered her large glass window, she looked towards the horizon. The sun was nowhere in sight, and the sky was just beginning to hint that morning was coming. She smiled, tucking the curtains back into place. As on any other day when she would go out, she had woken early before the servants were up. Moving quietly across the room, she reached her wardrobe. Opening the doors, she fished around the back, her hand connecting with a bundle of cloth. With this bundle came boots, stockings, and a canvas bag. Dressing quickly, she paused to examine herself in the full-length mirror.

'Once a Lady, now a rogue.' She thought. The last word stuck in her mind. She laced up her boots and then went about checking the contents of the bag. Coins, pieces-of-eight, gold mixed with silver winked back at her. Eyes roaming, they soon found the other objects. A compass, a bottle of ink and a nib pen, parchment and sealing wax, and lastly, her burgundy kerchief. Satisfied, she closed the bag and crossed the room to her bedside table, grabbing at the small array of jewelry that lay there. After shoving small golden hoops into even smaller holes in each earlobe, she fastened the silver cutlass charm around her neck. Reaching for her hair ribbon, she pulled her dark, curling locks into a tail, tying the ribbon round the strands swiftly. She was ready. Approaching the door of her room, she turned the handle quietly and stepped out into the hall.

Making her way down the curving, carpeted steps, she sneaked into the kitchen. Seizing half a loaf of bread, some cheese, and an apple, she tucked them away in her bag, then began searching for a water skin. Finding one, she added it to her growing collection of items. Now, the last step. Poking her head around the kitchen door, she saw that the coast was clear. She set out across the great hall, hoping no one would hear the noise. Opening the large front doors, she exited, listening for the 'click' of the latch. There. She was free. Repeating that word in her head, the world seemed to open wider. She turned, not bothering to look back at her former home, her cage, and her prison. A beautiful one indeed, but nonetheless, a prison. Reaching the front gates, she opened them slightly and squeezed through them. Returning them to their original position, she turned onto the road, whistling her favorite tune.