Sunrise tended to be her favorite time.

The tendrils of orange, yellow, pink, and countless other colors stretched across the sky, creating a wonderful scene. She would climb, no not the mountains, but a tree, one that she had built a sort of bed in. She would climb, higher than normal, and watch the sun rise.

And then, by far, her favorite time of the day was walking across the island beaches and snatching up whatever had washed ashore.

She had a rule, always be done by noon, or, if not done, return at dusk. She had learned, more times than not, to never be out, in the open in the hot Caribbean sun.

It resulted in burns across her arms, face, and even back. So She would head out early, and return when the sun had reached its peak.

And this morning was no different.

She could see the beach from the branch she perched on, and the branches hid her from wandering eyes. It was almost like she was sitting on top the tree, looking down from above.

Grasping the branch after watching the sun rise, she swung, landing on another branch below, teetering slightly, but then balance returning to her, she continued to climb farther down, until her boots touched the mossy floor.   

There was a layer of dew lining everything, giving everything almost a magical shine. Cupping handful hands into a cup shape, design dipped them into one of the pools close to the tree. The fresh, cool water poured down her throat, refreshing the desert that had seemed to replace it.

Without the pools, she wouldn't be able to survive here, they were the only source of fresh water, aside from the occasional waterfall, streaming steadily from the mountains.

Moving onward, toward the salty smell of the ocean, she could feel the light breeze, blowing her hair back away from her face. It grew stronger as she neared the sand, blowing her long hair fiercely, curling it like a storm.

As far as she could see, there was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing huge, nothing sparkly, nothing out of the norm.

So with a hopeful spring to her step, she stepped forward.

After hours of searching, she retired to the shade of the trees, as past experience told her that staying out during noon was a stupid idea. So she examined her treasures under a tree. 

There were a few things that made her happy. A handful of shells, beautiful ones at that, a gold coin, one that she wasn't sure had come from, nor what the design was on the front or back. Then there were the large pieces of driftwood.

Long ago, she had started a collection of driftwood, ones that were large, but intact and sturdy. She wasn't quite sure, at the time, what she was going to do with them all, but she kept them all the same.

When she had grown older and her mother had died, she made a platform in the trees, she had enough wood, and vines that came with the tree itself, to pull it off. Now, she still had a pile of leftovers and had no idea what to do with them.

Days later, she came up with the idea of a raft, or a boat of some sorts. All she had to do was keep it as far away from the pools as possible, seeing as the mermaids hardly ever came ashore. 

So as long as she worked in secret, the raft was safe from prying eyes.

Spying a tree nearby that she often stole mangos from, she stood up and walked over. The branches were higher up, and time and time again, she would try and shimmy up the trunk, to no avail. She had figured out, that if one climbed the tree next to it, which was much more acceptable, and lean over and snatch a hanging fruit, it worked much better.

Doing such, she climbed down, juicy, ripe mango in hand, she walked back over to her pile of loot so to say.

There was the handful of shells, beautiful, but nonetheless, were nothing of value or use.

There was the single coin, she had found it embedded in the surf, half of it sticking out of the wet sand, its surface rusty with age. She couldn't make out the words, or image, plastered onto it, and truthfully, she didn't care. 

She had found a number of coins along the beach, somewhere brand new and easily identified. Others were rusty with time and wore down so much that she couldn't possibly depict from just looking at it.

The sun was now out of the way, casting long shadows through the branches above her. She could see the shadows, caused by the mountains, from where she now stood.

She walked back to the sandy floor and continued walking, energy drained slightly 

It was after the sun had almost set and the sky had begun to shift in color did she see the crate. It was large, large enough to get itself stuck in the sand until a third of it was hidden from view.

She had thought, that at first, it was simply a misshapen rock in an odd place, she had come across those often enough, and she wouldn't be terribly surprised if that was what it turned out to be. But drawing closer, she had realized it was anything but a rock, and when she had grown near enough to see it clearly, she and rushed, with earnest, and fallen on her knees beside it.

Between the harsh waters and the rock formations along the north side of the island, it was a miracle that it hadn't been smashed to bits.

She had, at first try, attempted pulling apart the boards a top the side that was closest to her, then pushing on them when that yielded nothing. And when a wonderful idea struck her, it seemed that all energy had returned to her drained system.

She had run to the forest, found a rather thick, and sturdy branch, and bolted back to the crate. After prying open one of the borders, she realized that she couldn't break them, they were wonderful pieces of wood. Sturdy, almost not worn at all, and in perfect condition.

Telling herself it would only be the one, she peeked through the hole she had created. 

There was darkness holding the corners and hugging the edges of the crate, only allowing her to see little inside. But she caught a flash of metal and the clinking of what sounded like glass. She reached her hand between the borders and felt around.

Her hand fell upon what felt like a handle, perhaps metal, but she couldn't tell without proper light. Carefully extending her arm so she could pull whatever object was gripped in her hand tightly out of the hole, she lifted up.

It was a sword.

She nearly dropped it out of surprise, and then with even more careful hands than usual, she laid it flat across her hands. A sheath covered the blade, its leather surface had gold plating around the edges, and the handle was the same. 

Grasping in the sheath with one hand, and the handle in the other, she pulled it free. The metal glinted in the fading sun, and it moved through the air with ease. It was almost as though it was made for her, and only her.

She smiled, and with a flick of her wrist, she swung it through the air, as her mother had taught her so many times. It was a perfect weight, and when she placed it in her belt, it fit perfectly.  

Looking out at the fading light, stretched over the what seemed like endless sea, she grinned. It appeared, that her escape, her date with the open sea, was drawing close. 

*SQUEAL* Third chapter!!! SO PUMPED!! THANKS FOR THE VOTES AND COMMENTS!! Enjoy!! You all mean THE WORLD to me!!!! <3 <3 <3

~Kelly~