Annabelle grips Yoshi's hand tighter, her fingers locking around his as they dart through the crowded, sun-baked streets. The air is dry and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and sweat, while the shouts of merchants and the clatter of carts fill the air. Bodies press in from all sides, a chaotic sea of movement, but Annabelle weaves through the throng with practiced ease, pulling Yoshi along. His smaller hand trembles in hers, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The heat is relentless, the sun glaring down on the cracked cobblestones, but there's no time to stop. Annibelle's eyes dart ahead, searching for an escape route, her heart pounding in rhythm with their hurried footsteps. The crowd blurs around them, a cacophony of noise and color, as they push forward, desperate to disappear into the chaos.
She looks back, clutching her headdress to stay concealed. A wrench in her arm causes her to stumble. Stopping, she kneels, whispering to Yoshi, "We can't stop here! We have to keep moving." He lifts his blond head, peering at her with big blue eyes, forcing back tears. Her face turns ashen as the crowd moves aside for a distant commotion. Adjusting her round glasses, "Come," she pulls the small boy to his feet.
Arriving at the port, Annibelle's eyes lock onto a ship being loaded, its sails billowing in the salty breeze. The docks are alive with activity—crates hoisted, ropes coiled, sailors shouting—but her focus narrows to the vessel, a potential escape. She chews the inside of her cheek, her mind racing as she weighs their options. The sound of hostile voices cuts through the din, sharp and closing in. Her head swivels, heart pounding as she scans the crowd for their pursuers. The port's chaos suddenly feels like a trap, the maze of crates and barrels offering little cover. Yoshi's hand tightens in hers, his fear tangible. Annibelle's jaw sets, determination hardening her features. They're so close. With a quick glance at the ship, she decides, pulling Yoshi toward the bustling gangplank. The voices grow louder, more urgent, but Annibelle moves swiftly, blending into the throng of workers, her eyes fixed on the ship—their only chance at freedom.
Ah chew! She sniffles. Rubbing her nose, Yoshi tugs her sleeve, "Ms. Annabell."
Smiling, she kneels. Tucking the corner of his headdress, "It's going to be okay." Standing, her muscles tighten with determination. They maneuver towards a pile of crates being loaded onto the ship. Testing the lids, she finds an open trunk, slipping them both inside. When the trunk jostles, Yoshi squeals and she covers his mouth, lifting a finger to stay silent.
Several hours later, she peaks through the lid. She sighs in relief at the sound of waves crashing against the dark cargo hold. "Is it safe?" Smiling at Yoshi, she nods. Stepping out of the trunk, "Where are we going?"
She guides him through the maze of containers to an obscure corner. "I don't know. But once we get to wherever it is, I can get us somewhere safe." She places a consoling palm on his cheek, "Okay?"
Later that evening, the steps to the cargo hold whined at the weight of stomping heavy feet. Yoshi tucked in tight against Annabelle as men opened lids, rummaging through crates.
"What was it the cook said again?"
"The potatoes," the other curses, "He needs a crate of potatoes." Ah chew! His head snaps up, and he puts down the open lid. "You hear that?"
"Hear what?" She sneezes again.
"Who goes there?" Both men move in the direction of rapid sneezing. "Well, look here." Annabelle and Yoshi tremble as they hold each other.
"Looks like we have a pair of stowaways."
"What should we do with them?"
Reaching down, he takes hold of her arm and lifts her. Yoshi scrambles as the other grabs him. "Take them to the captain."
Stepping onto the deck, "Hey, captain," he jerks Annabell around. "We got some stowaways."
The captain moves towards them from the helm, "Is that so?"
"What do you want us to do with them?"
Hands on his hip, he bends over to be eye level with them. "Hmmm," he rubs his chin. "Do you two have names?"
"Leave her alone!" Yoshi struggles and kicks.
"Look here, boys," everyone laughs, "the lad appears to have a backbone."
Annabell jerks her arm free, standing as tall as her small starcher allows, she jets out her chin. Ah chew! She sniffles, "I am Annabell." Everyone becomes quiet. "This is Yoshi." The captain responded with a smirk and raised an eyebrow. In a wobbling voice, "What is the destination of this vessel?"
"Well, missy," he points up, "this here is a World Government cargo ship. We are on our way to Rommel Kingdom." She freezes as her eyes look upward at the symbol on the flag.
"What should we do with them, captain?"
"Throw them in the brig," she watches his back as he walks away, "we will hand them over to the authorities at the next port."
Three weeks later, their wrists are bound in heavy chain shackles, the cold iron biting into their skin as they shuffle down the stone walkway. The two Navy soldiers lead the way—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a mischievous grin and a sharp-eyed woman whose stern demeanor barely hides her amusement. The man leans closer to her, his voice low and teasing as he makes a sly comment. She smirks, shaking her head, but doesn't rebuff him.
The castle town bustles around them, its cobblestone streets lined with curious onlookers and flickering lanterns. The air smells of rain and woodsmoke, mingling with the metallic tang of the chains. The man's flirtatious banter continues, his tone light against the grim reality of the prisoners' fate. The woman rolls her eyes but can't suppress a faint smile. They keep their heads down, their steps heavy, as the soldiers' playful dynamic adds an odd, almost surreal contrast to the somber procession. The castle looms ahead, its spires cutting into the twilight sky.
"Do you want to get some fish and chips after this?" He looks away, waiting for her to answer.
With a playful smile, she replies, "Are you asking me out?"
Rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't know. If you say yes, I am." Annabell rolls her eyes as she watches them.
"And what if...." The bustling walkway erupts in cheers as a striking figure emerges—a lean man with long, golden locks that catch the sunlight like spun gold. Mounted on a pristine white steed, he moves with effortless grace, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd with a charming smile. Women audibly swoon, some clutching their chests or fanning themselves as they drop into curtsies in his wake. His presence is magnetic, drawing every eye as he rides through the throng. The air buzzes with excitement, the crowd parting like a wave before him. Children dart forward, hoping for a glance, while merchants pause their haggling to admire the spectacle. His fine attire, a blend of elegance and practicality, hints at nobility, yet his demeanor is approachable, almost playful. The clatter of hooves on cobblestone mingles with the crowd's adoration, creating a symphony of awe. He is a vision of beauty and charisma, a living legend passing through the ordinary, leaving a trail of breathless admiration in his wake.
"Who is that?" Her knees quiver as he passes.
"Excuse me, madam," he murmurs, his voice smooth as silk. With a flick of his wrist, he tosses a crimson rose in her direction. She catches it, her eyes fluttering as a blush spreads across her cheeks—then she swoons, collapsing gracefully, the rose clutched to her heart. Her companion rushes to catch her, releasing his hold on the restraints.
Annabelle doesn't hesitate. As the navy man escorting them kneels to revive his swooning companion, she seizes the moment. Her eyes dart to Yoshi, who stands frozen in the chaos. With a firm grip, she grabs his arm, pulling him into the throng of cheering onlookers. The crowd swallows them instantly, their figures blending into the sea of faces. Annabelle moves with practiced precision, her steps are quick and silent, weaving through the maze of bodies. Yoshi stumbles but follows, his heart racing as they disappear into the labyrinth of the bustling walkway, leaving the spectacle behind.
With Yoshi in tow, Annabelle ducks into a shadowy alley, the sudden darkness starkly contrasting with the vibrant chaos. The chains on their wrists clank loudly as they brace their arms against their knees, gasping for breath. The air smells of damp stone and refuse, the narrow space amplifying their ragged breathing. Yoshi looks up, his face flushed and anxious. "What now, Ms. Annibelle?" he asks, his voice trembling but laced with hope.
Annabelle straightens, her eyes sharp and calculating as she scans the alley's exit. "We keep moving," she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. Lifting her wrist, she glares at the manacle. "We need to get these off," ah chew! "And I need a transponder snail." She rubs her nose.
"How do we do that?"
She sighs, inspecting their attire, which differs from that of the more traditional locals. "I have no idea." They startle when a door slams, and a full bag is ejected at the other end of the alley. The corner of her mouth creeps up: " We may be better off than we realized."
Under the cover of an old, tattered blanket repurposed as a makeshift cloak, they slip through the dimly lit streets, their footsteps muffled by the night's stillness. The condemned shop looms ahead, its windows boarded and door hanging ajar. Inside, the air is thick with dust and the faint scent of mildew, the remnants of a forgotten business scattered across the floor. Yoshi collapses onto the creaking wooden planks, curling into himself, his head resting on his knees. His shoulders tremble slightly, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. "What are we going to do, Ms. Annabelle?" he asks, his voice small and muffled by sniffles.
Annabelle doesn't pause, her hands moving swiftly as she rummages through cabinets and drawers, her eyes sharp and determined. The faint moonlight filtering through cracks in the boards illuminates her focused expression. "We'll figure it out," she says firmly, her voice steady despite the chaos. "But first, we need supplies. Stay strong, Yoshi. We're not done yet." Her words are a lifeline, a promise of hope in the shadows of despair. Holding a cabinet door, "We will find a way out of this."
"Really," he wipes his red face with his sleeve, "how?" Sliding a drawer open, she squeals. "What is it?"
Picking up the round disk, she turns, "It's a dial." Holding it in her palm, she says, "All we have to do is find a snail, and I can call for help." When his stomach growls, she frowns. Sitting next to him, she says, "It's too late and risky for us to go out right now. Tomorrow, we will try to find something to eat and call for help." He nods, resting his head on her shoulder.
It was well into the night when Annabelle flinched, her body tensing as the door to the condemned shop suddenly swung open, slamming against the frame with a deafening crash. The faint flicker of light from outside spilled in, casting long, jagged traces across the cluttered room. Yoshi stirred slightly, his breathing shallow and uneven, curled up on the floor beneath the old blanket they had been huddled under. Annabelle gently shifted him, ensuring he remained covered, before rising to her feet. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her heart pounding as she crept toward the entrance, every sense on high alert.
As she reached the door, her hand hovering just above the handle, a sudden gust of wind blasted through the opening, slamming it shut with a force that made her jump. The cracked windowpanes rattled violently, the sound echoing like brittle bones. From outside, distant screams pierced the night, sending a chill down her spine. Annibelle's breath hitched, her hand gripping her chest as she turned toward the window. There, staring back at her with hollow, empty eyes, was the blank face of an apparition. Its features were twisted into a mocking sneer, its form translucent and flickering like a dying flame. Annabelle gasped, her voice caught in her throat as she stumbled back, her mind racing. Just as she was about to scream, the apparition vanished, leaving only the faint echo of its eerie presence and the unsettling silence of the night.