THE ICINESS OF the sand underneath Charlotte awakened her from her stupor. For one, she could not remember how she had gotten from The Division to this particular shoreline but one thing was certain. She was now alone in the middle of somewhere. Further she was drenched and her clothing was ripped. She took a couple moments to collectively pull herself off the ground, and when she did, Charlotte glanced all around her.
“Where am I now?” She muttered as she stared off into the distance. Some debris of wood and board came along the shore as Charlotte stared out at the vast ocean before her.
“I don’t think I’m on the ship anymore.” She said aloud. The island was surrounded by clear blue waters and soft white sand as its beach. Near the southern peaks were some small shipping port with a couple taverns, a shopping district, and plenty of avenues to adventure. As if her body couldn’t take the pressure of standing, she collapsed onto her knees and felt the cold sea water drift up over her lap. Her body was aching terribly, and when she raised her hand to her scalp, she pulled away with blood on her fingertips.
“Lessye?” Startled by the new voice Charlotte turned her attention to the older gentleman who had called out to her. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with dark greyish-brown hair and dark eyes. He was standing with a board of wood in between his bicep and body and in his hand was a bucket full of nails and screws.
“What?” Charlotte turned to the new person before giving a quizzical expression. “Who’s Lessye?”
The man seemed just as shocked that she was kneeling there in the sand as water had drenched her head to toe with injuries and blood all over her. The night was soon approaching as well, making it even more dangerous to stay out.
“Ah, I must have gotten the wrong person. What is your name? Did you get shipwrecked?” He dropped the stuff he was carrying to see if Charlotte was alright.
“I’m Charlotte.” She gave a pause when she caught herself saying Rothschild. Taking a breather, she sluggishly replied with her pseudo last name. “Charlotte Lionsheart and the vessel that I was accompanying got—capsized. I think. I don’t exactly remember.” She rubbed her head before the mysterious man grabbed her hand away from her head. He probed lightly to see where she was bleeding from. “It was terribly stormy, and the ship was incredibly under-crewed.”
The man nodded at the explanation. “Don’t worry if your account is true your friends must be near here as well. It was very fortuitous that you’re alive after a capsizing. You must have been touched by some guardian angel.”
Charlotte could only shake her head at that. ‘More like the guardian of death and destruction.’
“Sir, may I ask who you are?”
“Me? I am known as Lucas Wallace, but you can call me Luke. Don’t worry, if you’ll accompany me I can get you bandaged up with some warm clothes.”
Charlotte nodded tiredly as she offered her hand to his awaiting one. “Luke—yes, that would be splendid. Thank you.”