Somewhere on the coast of Brittany, France

Caitriona

I had to get away. Now. The shabby room I was in was no longer safe. Not that it had been when I paid for it; situated in the back of a saloon it was far from secure, and for me, a woman, the chance of intruders looking for a good time was considerably high. I had locked the door, but it rattled every time someone walked by, and the voices I heard outside were drunken and slurred. The looks I had gotten when I had come were lustful and the eyes had followed me as I had walked through the bar. But that was not why I had to leave. They had found me. Again.

After running day and night for thirty six hours, I had hoped to sleep, perhaps get a good meal, but rumor circulated around the tavern that they were coming. And when rumor said they were coming, there was more than a good chance that it was true. If they caught me I would be burned.

I was accused of being a witch. I was not guilty; I had only learned the art of being unseen. But when people said things not meant to be heard, and suddenly I appeared, it scared them, made them angry, and they started rumors. First it was only rumors that I could vanish into thin air, and then it was that I could read minds.

My beauty had a great deal to do with the rumors as well. Because of my shimmering red hair and cat-like green eyes I was rumored to have hypnotized a duke. He was a rich, lovely old gentleman, and I was the lowly daughter of a milkmaid. They hated me because the dear old duke showered me with money, jewels, beautiful clothing, and a rather high position in his house. Namely, I became the daughter he had never had.

I was also very learned in the art of healing, and some I had healed had lived stronger because of it, but people whispered that I was a magician. The persons I healed mended quickly, and began to trust me; that aspect also aided in the rumor that I was able to control minds. None of the rumors could convince the police to act until I accidentally frightened a few children.

Then the talk grew, and the police found false evidence and voluntary, false witnesses. I was accused of preying on children; it was said that I used their flesh and bones as a potion for longevity. I was only eighteen, but women as old as sixty swore they remembered me when they were but children hiding behind their mothers' skirts. So the rumors came, and now I was being hunted like a fox running from bloodhounds. And they had found me here, in the shabby bar.

So, I shoved the few things I had into a bag and glanced around the shoddy room, searching for some way of escape other than back through the bar. The dirt-covered walls were just barely secure enough to be inescapable. The window, set high on the wall, was too high to reach, as I was barely five feet tall and there was nothing to stand on besides the bed, which was bolted to the floor. I sighed and bucked up my courage, thinking perhaps it was better to just boldly step out.

Pushing open the door and looking through the men, I had an idea. There were many sailors in the bar; the tavern was situated on the waterfront and harbored many different crews. I inched back into my room, glaring once at a man whose eyes were traveling up and down the length of me. Once safely or perhaps not so back in my room, I pulled the clothes from my bag, looking for a pair of scissors I knew I had brought. I felt the cold metal in the bottom of the bag, pulled them out , and set to work.

When I was thoroughly satisfied, I stepped up to a dirty mirror hanging crookedly on the wall and peered at myself. The result was what I had wanted, but I was shocked. My long, coppery hair was gone; I had cut it no more than three inches from my head and it was raggedly chopped in short layers. I bit my lip and tried not to cry. The sight of my beautiful hair lying on the dusty floor was hard to take but I picked it up and tied it with a ribbon, shoving it into my bag and setting back to work.

I wetted my hands and swiped them across the wall, rubbing the muddy dust onto my face and neck. My somewhat ragged dress I switched for a pair of hastily packed breeches and a man’s shirt. I had learned to pack for disguise; now as I looked at myself I was almost satisfied. My face, dirty as it now was, was still too pretty to pass for a boy’s; I needed a hat to shade my face from any glances. I shuffled through my bag and was happy to find a floppy cloth fedora; I shoved it onto my head and looked again in the mirror.

What I saw was a slight figure, shabbily dressed, the floppy hat shading the face. My clothing was baggy enough to hide my well shaped figure, and along with the fact that I had pulled my corset so tight over my chest I could barely breathe I now looked more of a cabin boy than an eighteen year old girl. A highly observant person might, on close inspection, see that under the shade of the hat was full lips and almond shaped eyes, most definitely a girl’s, and the clothes , though baggy, still showed a slightly curving figure. My hands, soft and white, were slender and unmarred by work, too delicate to be even a boy’s hands; I hoped no on would notice.

Seeing that I had done all I could to disguise myself, I picked up my bag, stepped back out into the bar, carefully peering through the door first to make sure no one watched me, and made my way out. It was nearing dusk; the sky was turning pink and purple, and clouds, drifting lazily across the deep sky, were tinged orange. The sea was deep blue and stretched on to the sun, swallowing the bright orb as it tired of hanging in the sky.

The salty air was refreshing after the muggy, smoke filled bar. Gulls wheeled around above me and the air was filled with their cries; a few were being fed by small urchins and walked cockily about, their white heads bobbing as they scrounged for food. I walked over the hard cobblestones and sat on the edge of a rickety wooden dock ; the first sign of any ship leaving and I would try to slip aboard.

Grass grew up around the edges of the cobblestones, and several flowers, having survived the trampling of traffic, displayed brilliant colors from beneath the dust in which they were covered. The tide was high; my dangling feet touched the water from time to time as waves splashed up in cool wetness. I stared into the water, gazing at the slight reflections and letting my mind wander to the days when my father had lived.

I look like my mother, or so he said, and he would often stare at me, a far away look in the eyes that were the only resemblance we had. His and my eyes were both a startling green, wide and emerald. My mother’s eyes, my father told me, had been the most beautiful blue.

“They were as the sea in the middle of summer, Caitriona, bright and alive. And laugher was always in them. Aye she loved to laugh, your mother.” Then he had paused and gazed me. “Ye are so much like her, Cait. Alive, pretty, laughing.” A tear had come to his eye and he had touched my bright hair. “Your hair… it is just as hers. And your face; but for the green eyes you’d be her ten years ago.”

A sudden burst of raucous laughter woke me from my reverie and I glanced towards the tavern. A large crew of roughly clad, obviously drunken men walked past me, herded by a sober captain, towards a massive old ship. A small argument ensued between the captain and one of his men, and I caught the words “We’re sailing tomorrow. You will be sober.”

The bow of the old ship sported the brazen figure of a woman, scantily clad in a loose fitting dress. Her smooth wooden shoulders and part of her bosom were bared to an imaginary breeze, and her flowing hair crossed over her wooden neck beguilingly. She held a rose in her outstretched hand; the rose was the only thing painted on the brazen hussy and it was oddly colored black.

I pulled my hat further down on my head and stood, watching carefully as the sailors swayed up the gangplank. I could wait until they settled on the ship and then perhaps I would be able to slip up the side. One by one the shouts of the crew sank into deep snores, and as the sun finally sank into the wide sea there was a sleeping silence aboard the ship. I hesitantly slipped closer, wary of any sound.

A board creaked beneath my foot and I stopped a moment. The street behind me was bare of people; the old tavern had lured them in and laughter spilled from the smoky interior. Continuing on, I reached the end of the dock- which was nearly ten feet from the side of the ship. The gangplank had been pulled up and I shivered, staring down into the black water. I had to swim a few feet to reach the ship; but freedom lay within the ship and the coldness of the water was a small price to pay.

I sat on the edge of the dock and slowly slipped into the water; panic hit as soon as my body dunked under. I swam for the surface, hearing my heart beat faster as I pushed upward. A wave of blackness rolled towards my head, splashing into my face with a slap. The tide pushed me beneath the water and I fought. I am going to die each beat of my heart throbbed to me. Finally surfacing, I forced my limbs to carry me through the water and to the side of the ship. The hardest part would be how to get from the water to the deck. There were no ropes hanging from the side, nothing to grab onto but the anchor chain, and I was shaking from the coldness of the water, and from my panic.

I grasped the cold metal and stuck a toe into the chain, pulling myself halfway from the water. Another toe in the chain and I was halfway to the rail. I pushed myself up again, to within an arm’s length of the rail, and then I made the mistake of looking down. The water churned, black beneath me, its fingers reaching up to feather over my leg, as if the waves were trying to pull me back into the water. My leg shook under me, rattling the chain against the wooden side, and I saw a shadowy form peer over the edge of the rail.

“Who goes there?” A voice growled, and the shadowy form stretched out a hand towards me. I let out my breath, about to drop back into the water, as frightened as I was, but a hand snagged my arm and the figure roughly pulled me up over the rail. He dropped me onto the deck and put a foot on my stomach, stretching to reach a lantern and holding it close to my face. Surprise and glinting pleasure registered on his face; I had lost my hat to the waves below and there was nothing to shade my face.

“Well, well, well. A pixie.” He took his foot from my stomach and lifted me up jerkily, his hands around my waist. My wet shirt stuck to my figure, as did the drenched breeches, and he fingered my arm as he smiled mockingly into my face.

“Boarding without permission, eh? There’s a price to pay, missy.” He moved his face closer to mine, his hot breath warming my cheek. “ I’ll make you an offer. A night with me and you’re clear.”

I jerked away from him and slapped his bearded cheek. “Keep your filthy words for the prostitutes you play with!”

He jumped for me and caught my leg as I turned, his full weight falling heavily on my back as he dropped on top of me. I felt his beard tickle my neck and he breathed into my ear. “Watch your words, my pet, they will bring you war.” He carefully rose, dragging me with him and forcing my body to rest against his. “And we don’t want that, do we?” I tried to twist away but he held me. “Be nice.”

I spat into his face. He loosed his hold for one moment and I wrenched away from him, spinning and running straight into a dark, immobile figure. Hands clamped onto my arms and I was dragged into the captain’s cabin before I could scream. I was thrown onto the floor and the door slammed behind me.

“What is that?” I heard an angry voice snarl.

“Aw, Galen, come on. It’s just a girl.” The second voice was unafraid.

Galen scoffed. “You call that a girl? She’s a woman if I’ve ever seen one.” His words were heavily accented with a Scottish lilt. “You know the rules, Kevin. No women aboard the ship without my permission.”

Kevin’s voice betrayed his anger. “You run the ship like it was a monastery!” Silence. “Just this once, hey? I’ll let her go in the morning.” His voice had changed from angry to innocent

“No.” Footsteps neared the door.

“Gale, please? I didn’t even bring her here. She climbed over the side.” I wondered how that would help him. “Obviously she wanted to be here, let her stay. With me.”

“Give it up, Kevin. Go back to your watch.”

The door opened and the captain stepped in, his gray-green eyes stormy. I bit my lip and wondered what he was going to do with me.

“What do you think you’re doin’ ?” His piercing eyes glared at me.

“I-”

“Do you think you can just waltz onboard without permission?” He waved his arm towards the door. “Do you know how much danger there is in doing that?” He towered over me; I was still seated on the floor.

“I can explain-”

“I don’t want an explanation, I want you off of my ship.” He yanked me up.

“I wouldn’t stay here though my life depends on it.” I pulled my wrist from his grasp and tried to step past him, but suddenly my legs gave out and my vision swirled. My lack of sleep and the strain of running for three days caved down upon me with unrelenting pressure. I tried to take a deep breath, but my corset intervened with tightening fingers.

Before I entered the world of darkness I heard a voice grumble “Oh, great.”

A/N: Okay, this is a story I started a while ago. I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out where to cut the chapters, because when I began writing, I did not really write in chapters, but the story as a whole. I'm not sure what to name the story either, so its present title will have to do for now. I really, really want feedback on this. REVIEW!!! But um, I should say that the POV switches, and I will put whomever's name the POV happens to be from, thus the name Caitriona at the beginning of this chapter. I believe the next chapter begins the POV switch somewhere... anyway. Please, please review! Maranwe