Fatebound

Chapter Three ~ Boats

When Brea woke up the next morning, she had to admit that she was still feeling the effects of the jetlag she had come to Skye with the previous night. For a moment she didn't even remember the events that the day before had held, at least she didn't until she had looked down at her hands to find them hidden by the green oversized coat she had received from the curly-haired woman she had bumped into the previous day.

Brea put her hands on her boiling hot cheeks at the thought of the event.

'Stop it Brea. Your not allowed to fall for anyone while your here. This trip is purely for closure purposes and to maybe find your way again, nothing else.' She reprimanded herself.

After all, her mother had fallen for someone when she was last in Skye, and look how that had turned out. But still, Brea simply couldn't stop thinking about the adorable splotches of paint that was left on the far too attractive women's body, wishing that she had been the one to put them there herself and....

Yup, she had it bad.

Brea would just have to resign herself to the only thing that she could possibly do. She would simply have to return the jacket and the phone number Miranda had given her along with it.

After that she could move on as if the whole flirtation had never happened and than she would be able to focus on the real reason that she had come to Skye in the first place. To retrace her mother's footsteps, and maybe even to find her 'fate' while she was at it.

Brea got ready for the day, deciding on one of her soft brown dresses with a cream-knit jumper underneath, cream coloured leggings, warm brown boots, and a soft burnt orange cardigan to top it off. At least she had packed warmer things than what she hard worn the previous day.

She had learned from than that she would need the extra layer in the cold.

Feeling ready for the day, but not ready at all for returning the alluring woman's jacket, Brea walked downstairs, greeted the lovely older lady who ran the bnb and accepted her breakfast gratefully. Once she had finished her plate and washed up her dishes, she walked out of the door and into the cold air of the isle of Skye.

Brea shivered in the wind that met her back.

She wrapped her arms around her small frame and began the walk towards the docks that she had barely noticed the night before. It had a sort of eerie look, as if the ghosts of past fishermen and sea captains might have appeared at any minute. The overcast sky really painted the picture and Brea shivered at the thrill of it.

She had always loved stuff like that. Eerie looking places that held so much mystery too them, but whenever she talked to people about it they usually just thought she was a goth. Brea, of course, was still scared of things like ghosts, but she couldn't help but to get curious about things when her imagination ran away with her, at times even to the point where she would give herself quite the awful fright.

Brea was after all just a writer with a thirst for adventure, surely no-one could blame her for that.

There were an awful lot of boats on the docks, how was she supposed to know which one was Miranda's? Every boat was different in some way, apart from the fact that all of them looked old and worn-out.

Luckily enough, Brea didn't have to look for too long before a head of black hair had popped out of the green and brown boat at the very end of the rickety wooden path.

The paint was beginning to tear off of it, and in certain places Brea could see barnacles clinging to the edges, but with the faded words 'The she of the sea' still fighting for dear life to stay where they were once put, Brea felt that it had a certain charm to it that you could only ever find in very well-loved things.