When men say I'm sweet as candy It goes to my head like brandy, I enjoy being a girl
Anamaria felt distinctly odd when she awoke. Her head was throbbing and her mouth dry and cotton-filled. She ached all over and she whimpered at she sat up. "Oh, dear. What ever have I done?" Delicately, she pressed her hands to her aching head and tried not to weep as she struggled to recall what could have possibly happened that she should feel so...indelicate right now. But whatever happened before she fell asleep (and why, indeed was she sleeping in the middle of the day? On the ground no less and...was that smell HER?) was beyond her recall.
Carefully she opened her eyes and realized that she was dressed in the most distressing attire! Men's breeches and a horrible coarse wool shirt and...oh holy Mother protect her...that was a GUN!
Anamaria swooned.
When she awoke again the sun was all but vanished from the sky and she was still in the tiny hut, still dressed like a man (the indecency!) and still hurting all over. Gingerly she removed the gun from her person and laid it aside, handling it as though it were a live serpent. She inspected the hut and discovered a nearly empty bottle of rum. Well! she thought, her lips thinning in displeasure, that certainly explained that! A pity she couldn't remember having drunk it.
That reminded her of the vats and still behind the hut. It was that sort of thing that led to intemperances, lawlessness and loose morals. She couldn't imagine what she'd been thinking when she'd thought it was a proper thing for a lady to be involved in but she was going to put a stop to it right now. A fire burned low outside. Chin lifted firmly, she found a stick and poked the hot embers until it caught fire then marched...all right, minced into the forest to destroy the foul stuff that had left her in such a compromised condition.
Once the rum was ablaze (...perhaps she should have ensured that it wouldn't set the trees afire?) Anamaria took her makeshift torch and set off down the beach towards the compound. She remembered burning all the lovely, lovely gowns that the clothing box had given her but perhaps it would have replenished its supply by now? Oh, she very much hoped so.
Carefully she opened her eyes and realized that she was dressed in the most distressing attire! Men's breeches and a horrible coarse wool shirt and...oh holy Mother protect her...that was a GUN!
Anamaria swooned.
When she awoke again the sun was all but vanished from the sky and she was still in the tiny hut, still dressed like a man (the indecency!) and still hurting all over. Gingerly she removed the gun from her person and laid it aside, handling it as though it were a live serpent. She inspected the hut and discovered a nearly empty bottle of rum. Well! she thought, her lips thinning in displeasure, that certainly explained that! A pity she couldn't remember having drunk it.
That reminded her of the vats and still behind the hut. It was that sort of thing that led to intemperances, lawlessness and loose morals. She couldn't imagine what she'd been thinking when she'd thought it was a proper thing for a lady to be involved in but she was going to put a stop to it right now. A fire burned low outside. Chin lifted firmly, she found a stick and poked the hot embers until it caught fire then marched...all right, minced into the forest to destroy the foul stuff that had left her in such a compromised condition.
Once the rum was ablaze (...perhaps she should have ensured that it wouldn't set the trees afire?) Anamaria took her makeshift torch and set off down the beach towards the compound. She remembered burning all the lovely, lovely gowns that the clothing box had given her but perhaps it would have replenished its supply by now? Oh, she very much hoped so.