I scaled thelength of the beach, careful to keep the smoke of my fire withineyesight so I wouldn’t get lost. Sadly, I found nothing. No people.No ship debris. No sign of hope. Angry and defeated, I screamed tothe skies and yelled at the vast ocean before me.
“Why?” Icalled out. “What do you want from me? Why even let me come back?”I kicked at the sand like a disgruntled child. “You should havejust let me die!”
Just then, Iheard the distinct sound of branches crunching underfoot andwhipped around to see who was there. Strangely, I found no one. Myeyes scanned the tall grass and the bushel of trees in thedistance, hoping to catch a glimmer of movement. Still, I foundnothing. Could it have been an animal?
Or was itpossible that the island wasn’t as deserted as I thought?
“W-who’sthere?”
No oneanswered, and a chill crept down my spine.
For theremainder of the day, I watched my back. I combed the long, roundedbeach, searching for anything of use. All the while, my senses werein overdrive, listening for any sounds of life. No one surfaced,but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. If someone didoccupy the island with me, were they scared? Or were theydangerous?
Regardless, I’d probably starve to death before I ever foundout. My stomach growled in protest from the lack of food. Two dayswas a long time without sustenance when you’re pregnant. Especiallyafter expelling so much energy. The beach gave me nothing but atwisted bundle of fishing twine, broken sea glass, anddriftwood. So, I scoured theedge of the forest and lucked out with a handful of crowberriesthat had yet to fade away with the turning season. I hauled up acouple of roots to nibble on, but they were raw and hard on mystomach. It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. I needed realfood.
I spent hoursuntangling the mess of fishing line I found, hoping to fashion itinto some sort of net. If I could catch a few fish, I’d be set.But, even with a real net, the chances were slim. Still, I tried. Iwalked out to the ocean until the water reached my waist and Istood with my makeshift net submerged below the surface. Waiting.Hoping.
My knees beganto shake, and my legs went numb from the freezing November water.When I finally gave up, it was all I could do to get back to mycamp. When I finally plunked down on my bed of tree boughs, Iassessed my shoulder. It ached but it seemed to be healing alrightand I removed the makeshift sling. I tossed another log on the fireand sidled up to thaw my frozen bones, crying to myself.
“I’m sosorry,” I spoke to the baby inside. My hands lovingly held the tinybump that was my belly and tears flowed down my cheeks. “You nevereven got a chance to live.”
Igathered up the boughs to form a nest-like bed and curled into aball. It was too cold to sleep, especially with wet clothes. Ispent hours shivering and praying that Henry and my crew were okay.The very thought of him ceasing to exist was incomprehensible. TheQueen had to have made it. It just had to. I repeated those words over and overuntil my mind began to wander with exhaustion. Eventually, my bodygave in and crashed once more.
The nextmorning was bitter frosty. I peeled my stiff body from my crunchybed, clothes still damp, and immediately tossed two logs on theglowing embers and stoked it with a thin stick. I knew I shouldhave removed my clothes and let them dry, but I also knew I’dfreeze to death if I did. That’s when I noticed something differentabout my camp. Something new. There in the sand sitting next to mewas a thick, folded quilt and a bucket. My heart beat like mad andI craned my neck to search around. There were no signs of avisitor. Not even footprints in the sand. I scooted over and peeredinto the bucket.
“Oh, myGod,” I whispered in delight.
Not only didsomeone leave me a warm, heavy blanket, they also left behind abucket of water with two trout swimming around inside. I felt bothexcited and terrified because I had food and something to keep mewarm. But it also confirmed my fear that I wasn’t alone.
“Uh,thank you!” I called out to no one.
Orsomeone.
I eagerlydipped a hand in the bucket and grabbed hold of a fish. It wiggledin my grasp, but I quickly knocked its head against a rock andgrabbed my knife, expertly slitting the poor creature’s belly open.I’d gutted hundreds of fish in culinary school, as well as at the restaurant, somy hands moved with a memory of their own, removing the guts andcleaning the fish to the best of my ability. I grabbed a thinbranch and skewered my breakfast before holding it over the openfire to cook. My mouth watered from the smell. I devoured the troutand then did the same with the second. After I’d filled my belly, Iwrapped the heavy quilt around my shoulders and succumbed to theway my body begged to sleep.
The day hadlong disappeared before I opened my eyes again. Blacknesssurrounded me, and the fire raged by my side. For once, I actuallyfound it a bit warm, thanks to the thick blanket. I peeled it opento let out some of the heat but screamed when I realized I was notalone.
“Good evenin’ to you, too,” the man saidcalmly. He crouched in the sand on the other side of the fire as henibbled on something.
“W-whoare you?” I demanded. Discreetly, I felt around under the blanketto ensure my knife was still in the pocket of my jacket. Itwas.
“Name’sBenjamin,” he replied.
“What doyou want?”
His sharp jawwidened as a malicious grin spread across his dirty face and hisdark, brooding eyes glared at me from under a thick brow. “Oh, Idon’t believe you’re ready for that answer, sweetness.”
“My nameis Dianna,” I sternly corrected.
Benjaminfinished whatever he had been eating; some sort of baked good fromwhat I could see and stood tall. He was a large man, height wise,with shoulder-lengthblack hair that hung from underneath a tattered pirate’s hat.My visitor, clad in common
