The Stowaway (the_stowaway) wrote in moody_pirates,
The Stowaway


Elizabeth rocked the cradle with one toe as she stitched, humming under her breath. The fire sent red dancing gleams into the room, but she sat in a golden circle cast by branch of working candles. She moved a screen to keep the light from the baby and sewed on.

Jack lay stretched on the sofa, sound asleep, snoring. He'd arrived after supper, pockets full of gifts and a dozen fresh tales to tell.

Will sat at her feet, against her knees, gazing into the fire with dreams in his eyes. She touched his hair; he looked up and smiled.
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