Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Thirty-One: A Hand In Your Destiny

Together, they race down the shore with Torkin leading and Eleanore carrying what was left of her clothes in one sack, her rapier tied to her hip. Her soft, colorful cotton dress makes running far easier and comfortable.

The ship, a modest sloop, is coming closer. However, it does not appear to be berthing ashore - only passing by.

She pauses at the edge of the beach, catching her breath. "Too far," Eleanore looks around. "Fire!"

She hauls the lying branches and leaves from the ground and flicks her hand, starting a fire. A decent smoke rises up in the air. But the ship is moving away already. "I'll lose time-"

The bird harrumphs. "I can heeelp! Send me!"

Eleanore huffs. "Oh, yeah? How?" Torkin flies off, hovering in front of her face. She gasps. "Torkin! You're a genius!"

"Ack! Torkin, geniuuus!"

Eleanore drops on the sand and takes out her her old ruffled shirt.

Swish. The blade cuts a portion of the lace trim on the sleeve. "Take this."

"Aye, aye!" Torkin swoops down, biting the lace between his beak. He dashes away, chasing the ship.

She shakes her head. "He's too smart for a bird."

~*~

Unfortunately for Eleanore, the old captain is facing away from the island as he walked and missed her smoke signal. Until the young deckhand squints at the colorful bundle swishing to their direction. He straightens up, brush in his hands.

The bundle now becomes an outline of a bird. It flies nearer and nearer. The deckhand's eyes widen.

The brightly-colored parrot flaps its wings earnestly, clutching a strip of cloth between its beak. He moves closer, meeting the bird halfway. It dives for his hand, forcing him to take the strip. The young man tugs at the lace and the bird squaks. "Ack! Lady overboard!"

"What?" The captain's ears pick up the last word. The deckhand lifts the cloth to his face and realizes it is delicate lace. Torkin settles on the railing for the ship, patiently waiting.

"Captain!" he turns around and holds out the strip to his boss. "Lace!"

"Ack! Lady! On the sand. On the sand!"

The old captain frowns. He swipes the lace from his sailor and strides to the bird. Torkin flaps his wings, craning his head to look at the seaman. The old captain looks up to the direction where the flying messenger came from and spots the outline of what looks like an island.

And black smoke on the shore.

"We must save her, Captain," the deckhand mutters.

"Heaven have mercy," Torkin mutters demurely.

The captain nods. "Very well, maybe this pet truly has a mistress...Even if this is a terrible joke, we will need fresh water." He turns around. "Land off port side! Let us save her!"

~*~

Eleanore's pacing wears the sand under her boots.

Her mind is drifting to many places: the hopelessness of her situation and now her little bird is gone too. She sinks on the steaming, scalding sand. "Argh! Get it together! I've waited many days, I can wait still..."

With an exasperated sigh, she buries her head between her knees. "Oh, Lord-" Her throat dries up. Eleanore wipes her face with her hand.

"Hallo!"