Jut random things I write

started and continued, story - 3

Once she had reached the abandoned hut her and her siblings were staying in she divided up the bread into three pieces, one for her, one for Gabe and one for Ruth. Gabe was 13 years old – 2 years younger than Charlotte, who was 15, and 8 years older than Ruth, who was 5. Although they were all siblings, Charlotte's little family shared so few similarities that they might as well have been from different corners of the globe! Charlotte had short wispy brown hair which floated around her head like a halo and wide set amber eyes which she had inherited from her mother. Ruth looked more like their father; like a Norse god with thick wavy bleach blond hair and stunning, sparkling blue eyes. Gabe was a mixture of the two with dirty blond hair and large green eyes with a scattering of bronze freckles adorning his lightly tanned face.

All the children were paler than normal but Gabe was the one who got out the most in the coastal sun to go foraging for shellfish and crabs. He was their lifeline and Charlotte didn't know what she and Ruth would do without him. In the short time they had had to acclimatize to the reality of living wild with the strays it was Gabe who had dealt with the sudden death of their parents in the shipwreck the best. At the start it hadn't seemed that Charlotte was mature enough to lead her little family through the hard times that lay ahead of them, but she had stepped up and done the right thing for them though it took much courage and perseverance.

When their parents died 7 months ago it was hard on them all. There had been no one at all to look after them, not even an orphanage and much to their dismay they found that they were to be shipped off to Africa or some such other far-off place to work as slaves for wealthy English merchants. So they had escaped from the clutches of the poorly run government and found refuge by the coast. The search for the missing children had lasted only a week before they were deemed insignificant and left for dead. Since that time the memory of Charlotte, Gabe and Ruth Sway was a ghost in everyone's minds, foreshadowing that someday they would return and seek to find truth in their family tree, but never fully there.

That night they feasted on stale bread, cooked trout and raspberries which was by far the best meal they had ate for a long time. Now that summer, raspberries and other fruits grew in an abundance over the grassy hills. Ruth loved picking raspberries and running through the bracken that carpeted the fields next to the beach. And Gabe learnt fishing in his Boy Learner group. And Charlotte, though she definitely didn't enjoy stealing, was excellent at slipping her hand into a rich Gentlemen's pockets while trying to 'sell' them something. But one day she wasn't quite as careful.......

Chapter 3 –

Cassie

The Boathouse, 1867

That night the waves crashed and rolled menacingly outside the Watcher's boathouse. The wind growled and howled at them like a pack of hungry wolves circling their prey. Cassie wasn't usually scared; but this was different. This had to be the worst storm in years and right next to the angry sea was the last place she wanted to be. Swinging in her hammock she listened out into the night, she could faintly hear whimpering coming from one of the other children and, by instinct, she was drawn to seek out the poor child and comfort them. Clambering like a cat over the neighbouring hammocks and onto the wooden walkways suspended from the roof of the boathouse, Cassie grappled with the long ropes that kept the hammocks from plummeting to the hard wooden floor below. Her sharp ears had to strain to gain purchase over the deafening storm raging outside and even then she could barely hear herself think. She climbed higher and higher trying in vain to find where the cries were coming from. Finally – when she thought she had lost the sound for good – Cassie traced it back to the far corner of the boat house where she found a small girl with wide, tearful eyes sniffling sadly. When she saw Cassie's deathly white face staring down at her from a solid beam she let out a muffled shriek that was immediately lost in the terrible din.

''Its ok,'' mimed Cassie to the girl, ''Just a storm,''. The girl mouthed back ''I know, but it's just such a terrible one. Nothing like what we had back in London!'' Talking was almost impossible at this point and most certainly useless. But the girl looked a bit better and Cassie was glad she came. She couldn't have been more than seven years old and to travel from London to Scarborough at such a young age was a perilous journey; Cassie wondered if she really came alone. All through the night Cassie stayed by the girl's side, comforting her while outside the dark shadows of the night prowled menacingly. And when in the morning she finally woke to find herself still balanced on the hard wooden beam, the girl had gone.

Clambering nimbly down from the canopy of hammocks, Cassie went over to the dart board that the Watchers used to hang important notices – so it was more like a notice-board or pin board than a dart board. On it hung a single list of chores and next to that the people who would do them, she scanned the list and found her name close to the bottom and traced her finger along the rough wood behind the paper until it rested on one task. Hunting. Cassie had never really enjoyed hunting, even the idea of taking the life of an innocent animal hurt her head and made her want to throw up. But on the other hand it had to be done because they needed food and meat was top on their list of priorities. Sighing and fighting down nausea she swung herself up to her hammock and dug down deep to the bottom where there was a slit which lead to a bag hanging under the fabric of her bed. In this was a beautifully crafted bow and set of sharp arrows in a leather pouch. Cassie jumped out the door bounded away all in one long graceful movement before anyone could look to her go.

Once far enough in to the dense heather that shrouded hide next to the watering hole she stopped and looked up into the sky at the tall trees, trying to work out which way the minuscule breeze that lingered in the air was going. West, it was going west. So she would go east to make sure that whatever prey lay in the undergrowth couldn't smell her scent on the wind and sense her coming.

Authors note

For those of you that don't know, if the wind is heading west and our young huntress goes east, then the wind will be blowing in her face and also will be blowing the prey's scent towards her. If she went west, wind would be blowing towards the prey carrying her scent with it so she would become more easily detectable.

Creeping silently and skilfully through the overgrown shrubbery Cassie slung out an arrow and pulled her bow string taught. Taking aim carefully she poked her tongue 

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