#fittedfiction

Iris shook her head. On her ship.

“He was my brother” she snarled.

As she moved closer to the man, she began to feel the wet cold seep into her bones.

“Was,” he whispered.

Iris laughed. On her ship. She jabbed her pistol underneath his chin. 

“You abandoned him,” she hissed.

“And you killed him.” he said flatly.

She paused. Those were the accusations that put her in prison. The wind was howling. She put her gun away.

“Why are you here, Norton?”

“I know it wasn’t you.”

“Get off my ship.”

Lady Iris grabbed the pistol sitting on the desk and jammed it into a holster. With swift hands she strapped it at left and jumped into thick soled work boots. She heard the sharp crack of splintering wood from somewhere outside. 

As she emerged from below the deck, the ship lurched to the right. Iris held her ground, her footing steady.

There.

A crack of lightning split the sky, threatening to close off her opportunity. She was definitely awake now.

It began as a small gust of wind caressing the ocean floor, but the air soon cooled and darkened, and a final gust of wind wiped out the last vestiges of sunlight. In the midst of the tempest, a ship careened against the untamed waters.

Down in the royal cabin, a girl cast her heavily lidded cerulean eyes towards the darkened windows. In her desperate escape from the prison, she knew a bounty hunter was her tail. This was her only hope.

“Lady Iris!” a voice called frantically.

“Yes?” she replied.