Celeste

7.

I wake in a panic, book abandoned as the carriage lurched to a stop.

It's the sort of sudden, heart-wrenching stop that wakes you up in an instant.
The sort of stop that leaves me splayed on the carriage floor with an 'ummph'

"That ruddy driver..." I curse. I go to open the door, face fuming.
A voice speaks in the twisted twang of a pirates accent, muted by the thin wooden walls of the carriage. I cautiously reach for my parasol, an older shabbier affair. I could still fight with it though.

Afternoons in the market came with the unwanted gropes, fended off with a swift swing to... certain areas. I hoped I needed it now.

A shout, slide of metal being pulled from a sheath, followed by a pitter patter on the roof. Like raindrops. My heart hammers as I register what the noise really is. Something heavy begins to slide, wood thrumming at the sound.

With another judder, a weight falls off the side of the carriage, making the structure shake like a dog with fleas as it evens the weight.
I'm not stupid. The driver is what fell off the carriage, the splatter of blood is what I heard against the roof.

The door handle, winking silver, rattles. I turn wide eyes at it.
It's like a dream. Or a nightmare.

The lantern shakes as something heavy slams against the door. I still sit, in a mix of horror and confusion as the door braces against the weight, creaking.
I feel like a statue despite my instinct to blow out the candle, to hide in the darkness, or under the seats. I have to move - the door is breaking. Maybe with my parasol, I could —

With a crack and a crash, the door falls flat. The lantern, swinging erratically, shows a big burly pirate, with stark white bones in his earlobes and on the flesh of his bald head. His eyes, one scarred and milky white, meet my own.
With a toothy grin that deepens his shadowy face, he leans forward, bracing himself on the splintery gap where the door was.

Pursing his lips, he blows the candle out.

Surrounded in darkness, clouds blotting out any chance of the moons assistance, I hear my blood rush through my skull, limbs moving, fuelled with pure terror as he laughs into the darkness, a deep, rumbling sound.

I do the first sensible thing I can, dropping low to the floor, jabbing at where I last saw him. My parasol meets a fleshy target, and I hear him grunt in surprise. I aim my lace weapon up, at the soldering candle in its holder. A speck of light in the dark. I swing hard, hearing the clang of metal as the holder launches at my assailant. He screams as the hot wax splatters on his face.

I sense him leave, most likely injured, by the sea breeze as it enters the carriage. I have no time before another comes to investigate. Gathering my courage, I leap out of the carriage, parasol tight in my grip.

The cool summer air, usually so refreshing and soothing on my skin, makes goose bumps bubble on my flesh, hindering my movement as I leave the warmth of the carriage interior.
I look around.

As my eyes adjust, I see seven hulking figures right next to the carriage, consoling the pirate I hurt. They have a few lanterns, like beacons in the light as it shines on swords and daggers. I swallow hard as one turns, lifting the lantern at my face.

I don't give him time to look, darting quickly to the front of the carriage, where the horses are stamping the ground in distress. Thanking my riding lessons where I had secretly ridden bareback, I hitch my skirts, clambering onto the rough skin of the horse. I tuck my parasol under my arm, clutching silky mane, and urging the creature on with my thighs.

Nothing.
I let out a curse as I turn to unhook the rope, my parasol thudding against the dirt. The knots in the darkness are hard to see, and I strain against the taught loops.

"Nice try, love."

The voice stills me as the lantern comes to the front of the horse, a scarred hand catching hold of the reigns. I remember my parasol, lay in the dirt underneath me. I have two feet, though.

I rear back, and swing, aiming for the lantern, which is at his side. The horse jolts slightly at the movement, and I miss.
His hand doesn't. Letting go of the reign, he catches my shoe, pulling.

I curse the horse as I fall on my side, pebbles pressing hard into my flesh. I let out a wince.
"You shouldn't be calling the horse that. You pulling your leg back gave ya away."

The circle of warm orange light encircles me, two boots, slightly warped and dented come to a stop in front of my face. My eyes practically pop out of my skull as I come to a realisation.
The pirate on the docks. Blue.

I roll onto my elbows, blowing a stray lock of hair as he appraises me, head twitching like a bird, eyes sparking. "Hello, love."

Panic fills in shock as more lanterns come into view, trapping me into a tight circle as I stand, shoes crunching in the dirt. I cradle my side.
"What do you want?" I sneer, eyeing blue as he smiles.

"Straight to the point, I like it. No crying or screaming." He smiles.

I can only glare. "What do you want. Last time I'm asking." I say, flat-faced. Years of reading detective novels have led me to a series of conclusions; one being - never reveal your emotions.

He spreads his hand in a gesture, laughter bubbling up in his chest. A few titters of the closely knit circle follow. I look at the ground in shame.

"It's not what I want, it's what the captain wants, love. Put er' on the ship, lads!"

My eyes snap up to his, at the same time hands circle my arms.
He salutes as I was dragged, struggling.