Prologue
“My dear, what are you doing out here by yourself?” I blink at the old man looking down at me. I wrap my wings tighter against my body, but my body wants to revolt. I am so hungry. I can feel my body eating itself away. “Oh, you must be so hungry, little one. Let’s get you some food.”
I take his outstretched hand. I don’t sense danger. My stomach growls more. If I die, I die—what’s the harm in going with this man? Once I am up on my feet, he is about three times my size. “Let’s go, my dear. We will get you something to eat and a place to rest for the night. Do you know where your parents are?”
All I can do is shake my head at this big, long-bearded man. I see streaks of grey coming into his beard. He is walking away with a limp. I smell the air and don’t smell any fresh blood, so the blood on his clothes is old. I answer him honestly. Mama died young. Papa hit me and told me everything was my fault. Finally, he got tired of feeding me, blindfolded me, and took me to a town I don’t recognize. The people are strange. I’ve never seen so many large rats. They walked and talked like me, but had rat faces. I must have done something wrong because almost everyone has turned their nose up at me and thrown stuff at me. Papa was right everything was my fault.
“That’s such a shame. No child should be left alone. Come along, little one. What’s your name?” he asks me without turning back to see if I was following him.
“Eowyn, sir.” I try to get my little legs to walk fast after him, the bottoms of my wings scraping along the cobblestone.
“No need for formalities.” He goes quiet and just keeps walking.
My stomach is on fire. I can’t remember the last time I ate. The shopkeep didn’t like me going through their garbage. I must have been so lost in thought that I ran into something large and solid. I jump back and look up, then remember I followed the nice man. “We must get onto this boat. If you look really closely, you can see a ship in the distance. That is where we are headed.”
My stomach growls even louder. My rational part of my brain is yelling at me not to follow a strange man into the middle of the sea, but my stomach is taking over. I would do anything for some food, even get kidnapped. But in order to be kidnapped, I think you have to have a home.
I follow the man onto the boat, where two other men greet us.
“Good evening, Captain, and who do we have here?” It is almost as if he takes a smell of me. The person I was following—obviously the captain of the ship—must have noticed my uncomfortableness and, without hesitation, grabbed his sword off his hip and sliced through his belly. Blood sprays all over my face. I lick my lips.
“You will treat her as if she is my right-hand man.” He looks at the other man. The other man, who looks just as dirty as the first, shakes his head yes. He takes the oars and proceeds to push off the dock and head toward the ship. The captain reaches out for my hand and pulls me up to stand on the bench. I am still not as tall as him. The top of my head almost reaches his beard. He stares out at the approaching ship.
“I am always looking for good help. Free food and shelter as long as you work for me. Deal?” He looks down at me with a smile on his face and an outstretched hand. I look back at the fresh blood, curl my lips up until fangs start to show, and shake his hand, knowing he just saved my life.
