"Pfft." 

The puff of hot air expelled from her lungs matched the stuffy space around her.

Cecily struggled to catch her breath. The warm muggy air made it painful for here to exist. After sleeping for days, it was challenging for her to move, or close her eyes, or open them ... Her bones ached yet she laid restless. 

In a temporary shelter, stiff as a board, arms straight at her sides, her eyes remained transfixed on the dark cloth material of the canopy ceiling. She lay next to ten other husbandless women and a soft-snoring Margaret. The light shallow breaths confirmed fatigue and exhaustion. 

Cecily was slightly impressed with her friend's display of fortitude throughout their voyage and although her last days on the ship had been spent unconscious or in a haze, she understood Margaret saved her from death's door. She was a fantastic student and therefore would be a great patient teacher to the children who had traveled on board, and for the future ones to come.

She and Margaret met when they were young lassies. At first, she and her father's visits were formal, medical consultations, and whilst her father helped Mistress Jones with the endless headaches she habitually suffered from, she and Margaret became acquainted with one another in the garden.

"What shall I call you?" Despite Margaret's tiny frame, she stood sure of herself. One hand casually on her hip peering at her as if she was six feet tall. Her chest was puffed out and with a hint of arrogance, she stared at Cecily deciding if she was going to like her or not.

"Doctor."

"Hahaha!" Her green eyes had twinkled in the sunlight and her hair looked aflame. "Mmm, then thou shall call me Goddess."

Sharing a laugh Margaret grabbed her by the hand and took her to her favorite hiding place near a large stone pillar fountain at the center of their garden.

"I am a Goddess you know. No one shall ever tell me what to do."

As spoiled as Cecily thought Margaret to be, Mistress Jones, was worse. Cecily didn't know it at the time but soon learned how difficult Margaret's mother was and how she pushed her willpower unto others. Things were to be done her way or heaven help you, doom would be cursed upon your life.

Soon after and with the excuse of gratitude, the Mistress made it a habit to invite Cecily and her father for tea and biscuits. She explained it did Margaret well; being an only child needing company but Cecily knew that not to be the reason. The countless times they went to the Jones's estate, Margaret's aunt, Mistress Childress, was present with some excuse or another to be there. But Cecily knew the truth, she knew she was there to see her father.

 Cecily wasn't keen on it. At the time, she wanted her father all to herself and wanted to keep her small family, small. There was no need for a substitute mother and she was going to be sure their household stay as it was with only her father, her uncle, and her.

As time passed and she matured into the woman she was today, Cecily realized she'd been somewhat selfish and she'd cost her father what was likely his last opportunity at being happy. At having a wife. Maybe, even at love. Cecily's guilt grew deeper after she agreed to come to the Americas. She'd been too much of a coward to discuss the issues sooner and with regret, she brought it up to him too late.

Cecily covered her eyes with her hands and breathed deeply. 

"Why am I here? Why, am I here?" She voiced lowly. 

It was the first time she questioned her reasons to be there and even though she was sure there was no underworld if there was one, she had gone through hellfire and back. 

"I must be going insane." Everything up to that point had finally taken a toll on her. Her malnourished body barely asked her for food much, any longer and her head played tricks on her.

"Quit it. You're being absurd, you know why. " To heal and help others in a place I should not be judged for being a woman of medicine, she said to herself over and over. 

No other healers wanted to take the risk of crossing an ocean and perhaps perish, except her. Shouldn't that be enough? The fact she was unafraid. less so than many of the men who had been offered to come?

"You must do what your heart dictates you to do Cecy," her father had smiled into her eyes that even she discussed her decision with him. "You must go where you are needed." He'd ran a soft hand along the side of her face pushing back the strands of hair that blew wildly loose about her face and looked deep into her soul.

"Father, I-" She had saved enough to be able to pay her way. "I can afford it." 

"Ssh, nonsense. You shan't use your own, you will need it whilst you are there. It is done. I will pay your way unto the ship and to the new world. You shall make something of yourself. Your mother, uncle, and I are proud of you. Do you hear me, Love? You fill our hearts."

She's nodded and hugged him allowing the tears to run freely down her face after she repeated she loved him over and over. 

Pushing herself off the ground her legs wobbled and she fell back hard on her knees.

"The Devil-!" She almost voiced the curse in its entirety but after living, or best said, almost dying, she'd rather not finish saying it. Instead, she opted for a lowly, "By God's heart," under her breath and tried to stand again.

It was dark but her eyes had for the most part adjusted and she could make out were the few scattered bodies lay resting on the dirt. 

"where are my shoes?" She asked under her breath. Ceci had to take a piss and she wasn't about to do it inside the shelter. She took one breath, and then another. She felt better than she had in days and for that, she was grateful.

Carefully she stepped out of the tent peering to both sides. If she were to encounter a tribesman she would piss herself, and perish on sight.

A few glowing embers in various dugout pits lit the way and the night sky was clear and bluish in tint. It was oddly romantic and for a brief moment, her thoughts were of James making herself sick. Slowly she continued across the grounds careful not to wake any of the men surrounding the shelter.

Sighing contently she regarded there were no natives around camp. She had not seen them yet, she'd practically been brought inland unconscious, but after listening to Governor White she was sure they were frightening and untrustworthy.

Spotting high grass and bushes in the distance ahead, Cecily pushed on, on trembling legs. She pulled the full-length dress to her thighs and quickened her pace. 

She felt queasy. "Hurry, hurry," the brunet whispered in a singsong manner to calm her nerves.

Squatting, she resumed singing the made-up song, "yes, yes, yes. Hurry with your piss-" a sigh of relief traveled through her lips as she released the push at her stomach. 

Although she couldn't see very well, Cecily sought eagerly to watch for any insects or reptiles which might harm her. She knew things lurked there that did not exist in London. She'd never seen a snake in person and if she were to face one tonight, everyone would wake from her blaring screams. Her face heated from embarrassment.

"Please no snakes. No biting snakes on my bum," she chanted as part of the new tune she seemed to be composing. When she finished, the palms of her hand smoothed the black dress over her legs. 

"Hm-hm."

A small giggle froze her stiff. Only her eyes crazily moved around trying to identify where the sound had come from. Her heart thumped against her chest and her throat filled with saliva. If anything happened to her, she wouldn't be able to scream. She knew this with certainty.

Finally, she spotted white painted lines on a dark face. Her chest frantically rose and warm air blew out of her nostrils. She could feel the mad pumping of her heart in her veins bouncing all over her body. 

Her eyelids closed. 

Run! Go, now! She ordered, yet no part of her responded.

Swallowing a lump of fear down to her belly, the terror sat there and for a moment Cecily went numb. Beads of sweat formed at the back of her neck and forehead and the blood drained from her face.

"Ple-please," it was but a whimper she knew he could not hear. "Don't-" she attempted to speak again. Her mouth went dry and her head slightly shook from side to side. Cecy swallowed again and she was sure he'd overheard her.

She couldn't stop staring even though she could barely make his face except for those painted stark lines that would now haunt her dreams and those mysterious eyes flickering in the shadows. 

Then, he smiled catching her off guard. It was she needed for her feet to ultimately respond.

"Aah!" she gave a soft, strangled scream. 

Her legs finally reacted and instinctively she ran as fast as she could. Out of breath, she reached the entrance to the sleeping quarters. Unsteady hands wiped her sweaty brow and tears weld up in her eyes. When they fell, she covered the sobs with one hand and made it inside plummeting next to Margaret. 

The fierce trembling would not subside. Next time, she would hold it. As a last resource, she could wake one of the men. Her bravery only went so far. Finally exhausted, she cried herself to sleep.

~O~

The sun lazily rose that morning and with it, Cecily did too. It seemed to have taken longer than usual. All night the man's unrecognizable face had appeared in her dreams and haunted her in all sorts of unforgiving ways. His eyes. She would never forget those mean beady eyes. Nor his perverse laughter. Why had he laughed at her? 

Perhaps he was thinking of the horrible things he could do to you, she thought.

"Are you well? Did you have a restful night?"

Margaret's voice chirped of morning rays of light. Her eyes were the color of clear emeralds and her happiness surrounded them. A smile formed on her rosy lips.

"You seem restless my dear, Cecily."

"I-" she shook her head. Why haunt her friend with her nightmares too? "I, slept soundly, thank you." Cecily forced a grin. "How about you?" She knew Margaret had slept like a log.

"I think I was awake most of the night Cece. I was too excited."

"Were you?"

"Yes. It is our first day of hope for a new world my friend And you, you look well! As beautiful as ever, except for those dark circles around your eyes and your unkempt hair but- I'll fix them. They will be perfect in no time."

"No need. I'll braid it out of the way. We must help the men build the fort..."

"No. Not you Cecy. You had the fevers, you shan't go anywhere. Not yet."

"I'm a healer. I'm fine. I need to do my part."

"And you shall, only not today. Eat up and rest my dear. You will need your strength as we endure this phase in our lives."

"Margaret-"

"Come outside for some fresh air and breakfast. You shall rest today. We were told there's some kind of festivity in our honor tonight. We must not offend the natives and we are all required to attend. Rest up for that, will you?

Cecily froze reminded of the prior night and the so-called man who so boldly disrespected her modesty.

"Cecily?" her firey haired companion held her eyes quizzically. "Are you sure you are well?"

"I'm nauseated. I don't understand why we must give in to their antics."

"I don't like them or their ways either but Governor White had some issues bartering with the chief and we need to be fed. We must."

Cecily's face scrunched with disgust. "Then I guess we must." 

After saying the foul words, she did not like the sour taste in her mouth.