Incognito

1

A spare arrow flew free of its course and struck the tree beside her. She cursed carelessly as she inched away still taking in the scene that lay before her. The dark dye of the clothes she wore blended her body into the foliage as she watched the men battle in the cruelest form possible. She did not cheer on one group or hate the other; she was void of emotion as she analyzed the skill. The men were speedy but it was clear to see that the gang of thieves prevailed over the rich travelers. She toyed with the end of her braid and frowned when the youngest thief made away with some of the men's goods. She stood. It was time to leave. She needed time to complete the new shelter before nightfall. The move would be completed by the end of the fortnight and she once again would be safe from those barbarians. A shiver ran over her at the thought of Richard and his gang finding her or her precious treasure. Slowly she sneaks away through the leaves and weeds because movement is seen and she did not want to take an arrow to the back. Once out-of-sight she dashes through the night, dancing around the trees. She has left her treasure alone for far too long and her heart pounds at the thought of harm waylaying her little hut. When it comes into view she panics. Though the shelter she made last month with her own two hands still stands something else could be wrong. Terrified at the prospect that haunts her every night, she dashes behind her sheet door and tears open her trunk. Kneeling she parts the sheets and sighs as the little girl beneath coos in her sleep. Breathing once more she scoops up the sleeping child and hugs her to her chest.

"I will never forsake you, Prosper. Always I will protect you."

She kisses her on the head and lays her back in bed. The young mother then dashes away into the night. Later she will go to sleep as the rest of Leeland's population stirs awake.

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The Past: Angelica Roslin

When a father gets home from a year and a half at sea, it is customary that the children and wife left alone run out to greet him with embraces and kisses. Though her father left on awful terms it still felt wrong to eleven year old Angelica to watch his entrance from the upstairs window. Evangeline had already dolled up Elizabeth and as the ten year old bounced in anticipation, frills and ribbons flew in the wind. On the front lawn the butler, Mr. Edwards, dumped Master Roslin's causes and bags. While Darcy appeared on the porch behind his sister, a glare alight on his visage, their father emerged chatting and shaking another man's hand. When he threw hid head back in a laugh, his beard glistened and shook and the blonde curls on his head danced. Angelica almost forgot last time. She almost thought she imagined the incident that shattered her family alike Cook's favorite vase: beyond repair. But she didn't. As she slunk downstairs like a dutiful, placid daughter, she found herself wishing to spit the ugly words out right back at him. She tried one on for size and didn't regret it. It sounded good. It was as satisfying as a punch and ricocheted less though her arm. It made her feel strong.

"My daugh- ah, Gerald, another prize of mine. Why Angelica's hair is the king's folly." Her father smiled kindly. He laughed at his joke. He was a monster. Angelica glared, another cruel word floating around, teasing her tongue. She bit her cheek.

"My, she certainly doesn't have the face of an angel." Gerald laughed. Angelica wished she could cry. "Now, Roslin, where's your wife?"

In her room, hiding. From her husband. Angelica balled her fist and stared straight as the jolly men left to get drunk. She closed her eyes. At least Elizabeth doesn't realize yet. She can't see the cracks.

Darcy? With her eyes now open Angelica spies Darcy leaving. Not wanting to stay in the same house as her father, Angelica scrunched up her skirts and ran away. Away from all of it.