Poppet whined in his sleep waking Clara and she sat up, rubbed her eyes then glanced out the window. The sun slowly rose above the horizon and Clara felt a glimmer of excitement flutter in her stomach. With a chuckle she bathed herself in the cold, almost frigid water before she pulled out her corset. Only the rich wore them it seemed, but she wanted to look her best. Poppet watched her with a bored expression on his face before sighing.

"Oh, Poppet, cheer up, it's going to be the most thrilling day we've had since...since Egypt!" Clara cried as she rushed to his side and threw her arms around his fluffy neck. The dog licked his chops and whined as though telling her he felt hungry and she had to agree. They skipped dinner the night before but Clara was accustomed to going without food.

A knock sounded at the door and Clara rushed to answer it forgetting she stood in her corset and drawers. When she flung open the door Ivy looked more than surprised and stood staring for a moment before speaking.

"I've come to see if you need assistance; breakfast is served downstairs, if you're hungry."

"If you might lace me in I'd appreciate it!" Clara giggled; her brown hair fell in tangles around her shoulders.

"You need a proper grooming, though why you're lacing yourself into one of those horrid things I haven't a clue."

"Ivy, we're boarding the biggest ship ever made, we can at least pretend, if not act, like we're, well, rich!" Clara chuckled again and twirled around in girlish circles while Ivy shut the door.

"Come here, you foolish child! How old did you say you were?" Ivy cinched the corset until Clara felt she couldn't breathe.

"N-nineteen, goodness Ivy I daresay it's tight enough!"

"Well, corsets weren't made to feel...gracious is that your dress? It's beautiful!" Ivy rushed to the bed, picked up the sea green dress and admired it for quite some time before Clara nodded.

"My father bought it for me prior to my departure. I'm going home in hopes that he is in good health." Ivy held open the dress, waiting for Clara to step into it.

"Do you have the gloves and everything?" Ivy whispered.

"I do, they're in my pack if you care to get them out. Perhaps I shouldn't wear this dress, perhaps it's too fancy..." Clara hesitated and Ivy stubbornly shook her head and marched towards Clara.

"If anything you may get lucky enough to turn the head of an attractive, sweet man." Ivy scandalously winked as she began buttoning the dress, which hissed across the floor with each movement Clara made.

"As though they shall be looking at me when boarding such a ship, but it shall turn up some fun in the inspection lines!"

"Clara you are a rare type of woman, come, let's go feed that complaining stomach!" Ivy dragged Clara towards the door with Poppet tagging along wagging his enormous tail.

At about mid-morning, Clara Forsyth and Ivy Strass entered the inspection lines, each woman chattering breathlessly. The steerage passengers found company amongst themselves and talked about their destinations. Clara briefly glanced at the first-class passengers and poked Ivy.

"I don't see them having to have their head picked for lice."

"That's because they're too expensive for the lice to live on." Ivy giggled then motioned Clara forward.

One of the inspectors looked at Clara and waved her over with a kind expression.

"Miss, I do believe you're in the wrong line. You see, the first-class passenger's board over there."

Clara grinned mischievously, "Sir, I am in the correct line, I fool you not, take a look at my ticket."

After examining her ticket and looking her over as though he didn't believe his eyes, the inspector let her through. Clara clipped her leash on Poppet and started to lead him onto the gangway when the man stopped her again.

"No dogs miss, not in third class."

"But I must have him, I can not go to America without my father's dog, he's part of our family." Clara felt dread rise in her throat as she clutched Poppet to her, he sat politely and offered a paw. The man smiled, though not a happy one, and shook Poppet' paw then motioned them on. He pretended he didn't see the animal.

As she climbed the passageway, Clara looked at the first-class women with their elaborate hats and silken dresses. Her mother would love to see such a display of beauty and fashion. Poppet whined taking her mind off the subject and she realized they stood at the door with an anxious steward waving them in. His crisp black outfit with a white collar and fancy cap drew Clara's attention and she smiled.

"Have a good voyage on the Titanic, miss." The man said as she passed him and she whispered a breathless thank you.

"This is better than any third-class on any ship I've sailed on!" Clara exclaimed to Poppet who panted and sniffed at passing people.

The white corridors seemed to beckon to her as she made her way down them. The linoleum tiles echoed her footsteps as she padded along, her eyes lighted with glee. Clara breathed in the putrid smell of freshness until she thought she might burst out laughing. Following the signs, Clara finally found her cabin in the stern where the single women stayed, Poppet seemed unaffected by everything. As she opened the door, Clara gasped at the accommodations.

Her cabin was a twin-berth with beds that folded inward in order to provide more space. The walls had pine paneling and expensive looking flooring, which made Clara want to sit on it. Another woman gasped behind her and Clara whirled around to see a tall, blond haired girl about her age. Clara grinned and gestured to the room as she walked in and threw herself on the left bottom bunk.

"I'm Clara Forsyth, welcome to the royalty suites eh?"

"I've never seen rooms in steerage that looked so excessive! Oh, I'm terribly sorry Ms. Forsyth for I'm forgetting my manners in my state of shock. I am Abigail Gale of Maryland; it's a pleasure to meet you."

Abigail Gale of Maryland stood about five foot four and looked like a doll in her brown dress with worn out boots. She instantly took the top bunk across from Clara and inspected the room with a chuckle. Soon Ivy showed up lugging her suitcases and looking rather appalled about something.

"Ivy, this is Abigail Gale, Abigail this is Ivy Strass." Clara gladly made the introductions then turned to her pack and opened it.

"What say you to the fact that we should join our fellow people on the deck?"

"I thought only first-class were allowed up there?" Abigail said with a curious glint in her young eyes.

"Child, they don't rule the world, we're allowed on the third-class part, the well-deck, and that's where we shall go!" Ivy led the girls out of their room and into the steel-walled corridor where they passed many passengers. Poppet was content on Clara's bed with his eyes shut and tongue lolling.

As they climbed the stairwell, Clara couldn't help but notice gates in certain hallways, probably leading to first and second-class. With a shrug Clara blinked when the sunlight hit them in the face and the smell of salty sea air swept past them. Ivy laughed as they climbed out of the stairwell and onto the deck where the first-class passengers could watch them from their deck.

The whistles blew and the Titanic began her voyage out of Southampton with people cheering and crying. There was a short incident with a runaway boat that delayed the departure but many people didn't notice or didn't care. Clara stood at the rail breathing deep the smell of the ocean and she pointed to the horizon. Abigail joined her and cocked her head as though confused.

"What is it, Clara?"

"There's where our future lays Abigail, a new adventure, a new start!"

"Don't listen to her Abby, she'll fill your head with nonsense." Ivy winked while she gripped the rail with white knuckles.

"They say we will reach Queenstown by nightfall, do you suppose that's true?" Abby asked as she peered at the ocean below and Clara chuckled.

"I'm beginning to think anything is possible aboard this ship! Is that the luncheon horn?" Clara darted down the stairwell taking the steps two at a time while Abby and Ivy followed her, laughing loudly.

Clara turned the corner of the corridor and rushed back to her room where she picked up her gloves. She slipped them on with the grin still plastered across her face, her spirits high with exhilaration. Casting a glance at Poppet, she rubbed his ears before rushing out the door where Abby and Ivy waited. They rolled their eyes when she threw her arms around them and breathlessly steered them towards the stairwell to the middle deck. The three women entered the dining saloon and found that it, too, was impressive with shining, enameled walls.

Ivy sat down at one of the tables and stared at the eating utensils with an astonished look on her face. Her full, red lips curled at the corners as she held up a fork that had the engraving of the White Star Line.

"I do believe they put the rich folk's fork down here."

"Should I return it, Ivy and say it's with compliments from third-class?" Clara snickered until Abby poked her and gestured to the door.

"Look at those fine fellows, Clara, shall say hello later?" Abby looked so eager, her eyebrows high, her cheeks red and a smile widening on her attractive lips.

"Girls, calm down, there will be many more men tomorrow and if it's men that you want, its men that you'll get. I, personally, am intent on food." Ivy scooted her mahogany colored chair towards the table where she waited for the waiters.

"I can't believe they have serving men for us," whispered Abby after a moment and Ivy rolled her eyes.

"Child, the people of our time are so used to calling things by 'class', the times are changing. Just enjoy the voyage and pretend we're one of the rich folks from upstairs, shall we?"

"Good afternoon ladies," said a young man in the White Star Line ensemble and Abby batted her eyelashes at him.

"When will we reach Ireland?" Clara asked and the man smiled politely at her.

"Early tomorrow morning, I do believe, miss." He filled their glasses with water and they sipped at it while waiting for their food.

"So, Abby what is it you plan to do in America?" Ivy asked the young girl who barely looked a day over fifteen.

"I'm going to become a governess for my Uncle William's children. Mother died last year and I have nowhere else to go." Abby's laughing blue eyes sobered. Clara patted her on the back.

"It will be quite all right, I've lost my mother as well and perhaps America will make our dreams come true." Clara turned as the men approached their table.

"Mind if we sit here, ladies?" A tall man with bright red hair and startling brown eyes asked as he sat down.

"Go right ahead sir." Ivy said with little enthusiasm in her monotone voice.

"Ian McConners, late of England, my parents are from Ireland. Nice to meet you, may I ask your names?"

"Abigail Gale of Maryland." Abby said, her eyes instantly sparked to life and the man shook her hand with an interested smile.

"I'm Clara Forsyth, call me Clara." Clara nodded hello while Ivy concentrated on playing with her fork.

"Ivine Strass, Ivy to most. Mr. McConners we were just talking about what we were on our way to America for, care to join?"

"Work, my friends, Joe Mallet and Walter Hemmings and I are headed to America for work of any sort. We're tired of England and want a change of scenery, figured America was the best place to start. What do you think of the ship so far?"

"I think it's fabulous, they say we shall be across the Saint George channel and into Irish waters by morning." Abby gushed and Ian took a sudden, very noticeable interest in her.

Clara ignored the others as they talked about what they would do in America, she felt left out. She didn't have any plans, at least none that came to mind as she sat thinking about her life in general. What had she done that been significant? The truth was, Clara wrote stories that people never took an interest in. She'd spent the first nineteen years of her life doing nothing important and suddenly that bothered her.

The luncheon consisted of filleted fish, corn, mashed potatoes and much more which filled Clara to the brim. She left the table early to climb the stairs to her part of the deck where she stood at the rail. It was mid-afternoon, almost evening and the air felt only slightly chilly against her bare skin. Turning her head so her tangled mass of brown hair blew into her face, Clara saw the other passengers. Their gowns caught her attention and for just a moment she wished she had such finery to flaunt.

"Of course," Clara thought, "I have much more than most of those girls and that is my freedom." With a smug smile she turned her attention back to the horizon where she thought she saw a faint outline of shore. It couldn't be the Ireland shores already at only a little into the afternoon? A young man wearing trousers and a plain, white shirt came to a stop just a few feet away from her.

"Sir, is that the shore?" Clara asked as she leaned her body against the rail and strained to see the shoreline. She used her hand to block the glaring sunlight.

"Nope, it's the clouds; see how they look like they fall into the ocean? It's a sight I never tire of seeing, this may just be the best trip for me."

"As it will be for me hopefully, I hope to find better success in America."

"What kind of success, ma'am?"

"I write, so I'm hoping a publisher will like the idea of a woman writer and will take on my works. I'm curious about the smoking room they say it is interesting, should you like to go with me?"

The man shrugged then shook his head as he motioned at the ocean.

"No, I should like to stay here for a while and enjoy the scenery... we still have a long day ahead of us. All the better I say anyway, so much to take in."

Clara pushed away from the white rail and strode across the polished deck towards the stairwell. The paneled wall smelled so fresh that Clara had half a mind to put her nose to it. She ran down to her room to grab her pen, ink and paper before she climbed to the bridge-deck. Sitting where the sun shone through the large windows, Clara began writing. It wasn't typical of the time for a woman to write romance stories but Clara wasn't a classic woman.

And when Henry finally pulled Elizpeth into his arms she finally felt warm, safe and happy.

Clara paused in her writing to watch the sky for a moment before she continued with a satisfied smile.

"Henry, I want to be an independent woman able to vote and have an opinion of my own." Elizpeth whispered and Henry held her away from him before he kissed her solidly. "Then do it, I won't stop you, for a woman should have a place and a say that is above what it is now."

Clara sighed and crumpled the paper into a small wad before she threw it into a nearby wastebasket. Clara used the remainder of her day watching the passenger's and trying to compose her story. After a while she decided a journal of her voyage on the Titanic would have to do, not like it'd be very interesting. Dusk set in and she couldn't help but wonder what the passengers from Ireland would be like. Ivy and Abby hoped to have their fourth-berth traveler would board.

Supper wasn't interesting for Clara and soon the others left for the public room leaving Clara alone in the berth. She sat thinking about the next day and when she patted Poppet she chuckled.

"We're finally sure of what we're doing, Poppet, doesn't that make you happy?" As Clara buried her nose in the dog's warm scruff, she felt incredibly happy for the first time in a long time.

That night she lay in the new berth, the sheets so fresh they didn't have a crease. The day had been so hectic she hardly knew what to think and having Ivy snore didn't help. Abby tossed and turned on the top bunk above Ivy until she finally called out to Clara.

"Clara, what shall we do tomorrow? I hear we'll dock early at Queenstown, will we be awake in time to see it?"

"Of course we will, Abby, we've got so much exploring to do, the only reason I didn't today was because it's been so busy." Clara scratched behind Poppet' ears, the dog was sound asleep.

"I can't wait, this ship is better than the best, did you see how black the paint looked, and how clean the white was?" Abby sighed dreamily as she turned to stare at the ceiling.

"How could I have not noticed? The way the copper color of the funnels shone in the sun was enough to keep me staring!" Ivy replied sleepily from her berth, she soon dropped off again.

"It would be like a dream to meet a first-class boy and have him show us around their quarters."

Clara quietly laughed at the mention of a first-class man talking to low class steerage folk.

"It'd have to be a dream, Abby, besides, aren't you happy with what we've got down here? You'd best get some sleep if you want me to wake you in time to meet the new passengers tomorrow."

Clara listened as Abby's breathing slowly evened out and she wondered if Abby had a point. Clara wondered what it'd be like to walk along the Grand Staircase, or eat in the Parisien Café.

*

Nate spent the day with Uncle Fenwick learning how to properly thread the hooks and how to bait them. He found it most interesting however, his mother objected when he even mentioned the fact he wanted to stay. Of course, Uncle Fenwick had no problem with it, saying he'd love to have Nate apprentice with him. They ate a hearty, homemade meal of fish before Nate prepared for bed thinking about the Titanic and where it was at in the Atlantic.

"Uncle Fenwick, have you heard about the Titanic?" Nate had asked during supper and Uncle Fenwick shook his head.

"I haven't young Nate, but don't get me wrong, they say she's nigh unsinkable an' on that you can be bettin'. Though I be thinkin' meself that I wouldn't want to be aboard such a large ship. You're young and adventurous; it'll be just the thing for you!" Uncle Fenwick winked before clearing the table.

Now Nate couldn't help but wonder if his uncle told the truth, he didn't want to drown. That was a nightmare he never wanted to come true, which is why he taught himself to swim long ago. If the White Star Line said the Titanic wouldn't sink, then it probably wouldn't. Nate shut his eyes and dreamed about life as a fisherman in New York, somewhere in his dreams he met a feisty young woman. She wasn't rich but she didn't let him down, and she fished next to him with a large smile.

When Nate awoke early the next morning, he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes and quickly dressed. Uncle Fenwick sat at the table picking at a meager ration of cooked eggs and was staring at a paper. Nate saw no sign of his parents and that was no problem with him.

"They're down at the docks all ready, son. I've been reading about that ship of yours, the Titanic ran into some trouble yesterday. Nearly hit another ship or something."

Uncle Fenwick chuckled at the stricken look on Nate's face.

"Don' worry Nate, I told yew the Titanic is a fine ship and will get you to New York safely. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept perfectly well, thank you. Uncle Fenwick, is it possible to dream about someone before you meet them?"

"A course 'tis Nate, your father did before he met your mother. Why, you been dreamin' about some young lass?"

"I dreamt about a woman who wasn't afraid to fish, she was stubborn and poor but she was happy..." Nate trailed off as his Uncle Fenwick broke into long peals of laughter.

"Oh Nate, you'll find you a lass like that no doubt, she'll complete you an' ifn you don't want t' take over the West business then don't."

"They expect it of me, but I want something different. I want to branch out and make my own fortune. Even if I don't get rich, I want to be able to say I was free to do whatever I pleased. I don't want to marry a girl who knows nothing about things like fishing or working."

Uncle Fenwick stood and placed a gnarled, work-worn hand on Nate's shoulder.

"Then don't, Nate, you'll find this lass, you'll both be happy an' you defy your parents if you must. You know where I live, write to me and I'll provide you a place to live, ya hear? You'd best be going to find your parents, it was nice to finally see you, enjoy your trip." Uncle Fenwick hugged him goodbye before showing him out the door.

Nate paced the length of the docks wondering when the Titanic would arrive the next day. Perhaps what Uncle Fenwick said was a sign that he shouldn't go, maybe God was trying to tell him to stay with his uncle. His father finally placed a hand on his shoulder causing him to stop thinking before he had a chance to turn around.

"Where's mother?" Nate asked as he searched the crowd of people for even one person who looked of their rank.

"She's in the hat shops trying to find one that matches her dress... she's left her other one on our Wexford estate." Frederick West rolled his eyes. "Nathaniel, I've been meaning to have a word with you without your mother around. I think we treat you as though you were a daughter, which is what your mother longs for anyways. I apologize for doing so and once we board the Titanic I shall treat you as a man. You will not have to answer to me for everything; however, I do expect you to act appropriately."

Nate stood in shock as his father went to greet his mother, who wore a brand new plumed, pink hat. So his father thought they treated him like a woman, it wasn't the first time that Nate thought the same. Turning to the butler, who traveled with them and would join them on the Titanic, he grinned.

"Well, Maxwell, it seems I'll finally get to do a few things of my liking."

"Just take care, Master West. I'd hate for anything awful to happen because of your rashness." Maxwell Carter took care to keep a watchful eye on the West's luggage.

Emily West rearranged her hat atop her blonde hair and smiled at her husband who merely ignored her. Nate finally saw what he thought was the ship slide into their view; it couldn't come into the harbor, so it sent tenders to pick them up. Nate and his family boarded into one with the others crowding around them, it made Emily West visibly cringe. The tenders slowly approached the large ship and Nate eagerly studied it wondering at how it stayed afloat. Ships were never his preferred means of travel. He didn't enjoy the thought of being in deep water.

The cool breeze tickled Nate's face and blew around his dark hair until he actually cracked a small smile. The Irish men and women around him exclaimed excitedly about the ship as they pulled close to her. They allowed the West's to board first and Nate couldn't help but notice a girl standing at the third-class rail. To him she didn't look like she belonged there, with her sea green dress and black, elbow length gloves. She frowned at him and turned her attention to the passengers who entered the third-class deck.

"Nathan, are you coming along, dear?" Emily called to her son and he reluctantly entered the ship.

They walked along the deck with Maxwell behind carting their cumbersome luggage, until they entered the forward Grand Staircase. Emily commented on how nice the polished oak looked and how the carvings were "exquisite." Nate couldn't help but agree with his mother for once, it was quite elegant. They walked down the stairs until they hit the promenade deck. Cabin B-52 awaited them, a very coveted suite that Fredrick West worked incredibly hard to get.

Mr. West allowed the steward to unlock the door which opened into an impressive room almost as good as the ones in the West Estate. There was a sitting room, two bedrooms and the West's would enjoy their own personal lavatory as well as bath. Nate instantly chose the farthest bedroom and shut the door for a few minutes of peace from his parents. His bed was large and canopied making him feel as rich as he was, he almost felt ashamed. He had a table, chairs, a vanity, a couch and a bureau in which he placed his clothing for the time being. Lying on the lush bed against the many pillows, Nate stared at the top of the canopy.

Once the West's returned to New York they planned on selling their estate then moving to Chicago. It was there that they expected to buy Nate a manor and get him started with a new life. He slipped his jacket off and had half a mind to kick off his shoes when there was a knock on the door. Maxwell entered a moment later, bowed his lean body and then muttered that the West's wanted Nate to prepare for a trip around the ship.

"Tell them I'll catch up with them later, I am quite tired you see and would like to rest... Oh, and Maxwell, please find me some brandy." Nate could think of nothing he'd enjoy better then a good wineglass full of brandy or possibly something stronger.

Maxwell soon returned with the ordered glass of amber colored liquid and handed it to an eager Nate. Nate downed the contents of the wineglass without a second thought then ordered a tumbler. Maxwell did as he was bid however, he complained all the way back from wherever he fetched the brandy. After a few glassfuls, Nate stumbled out of the room and decided to go visit the first-class smoking room on A-deck.

When Nate reached the smoking room he found several men his age playing at a game of cards. They seemed as drunk as he so he pulled up a chair, loosened his tie and threw in some cash to bet. He made the acquaintance of Clayton Barker and Jordan Henry who both declared him "a chum." They played their hand at cards until Clay became too successful and Jordan announced they take a walk to "watch the spectacle of below decks." It wasn't quite before dinner yet and Nate decided it wasn't a bad idea, thus the three young men stood and downed one last glass of brandy.

Nate couldn't think clearly as they shouted and laughed foolishly about nonsense they probably wouldn't remember the next day. When they reached the third-class entrances they didn't hesitate to stumble down the stairs. Jacob said something about "this looks like the blimey second-class" and Clay had to agree. Nate never saw outside of first-class anything so he shrugged. Loud music blared from the third-class general room and the young men headed for it.

"This'll be where they're dancin' all silly an' stuff," Clay slurred his speech as he approached the entrance to the room. Someone belted out a tune on the piano while the newest members sang and danced.

*

Clara sat tapping her foot in tune to the music and drank the dark colored liquid in moderation. She didn't want to spoil supper, like most people were doing and she was sure that after supper they might break into more dance and song. This prepped them for the night ahead, at least until they were forced to their rooms. A slight commotion at the doorway caught her eye. She looked up with mild interest.

"Oh no, I knew they couldn't stay away from here!" Abby cried as she spotted the young men.

"They're drunk, they probably aren't thinking clearly." Ivy stated as she stared at a passing Irish man who looked about her age. He smiled and offered her his hand, Abby pushed Ivy to him and away they went.

"Hey there, you, woman in the green!"

The tallest man shouted with a lopsided grin from the doorway. Several of the passengers looked like they wanted nothing more than to put him back where he belonged. Of course they wouldn't dare touch someone who had money - he had power. Clara, being the willful woman she was, stood and waited for a few moments to see if they would leave.

"Yeah, you, you, you who doesn't look, belong, get here." The same man stuttered and Clara swallowed hard trying to ignore him.

"Excuse me sir, you're drunk and have mistaken our quarters for yours, you don't belong here." Clara shouted and several of the passengers turned their attention to her, but she didn't care.

"I knows who am I and wot you are and where I am and what I'm doing, come here please, talk, green."

Nate didn't know what he was saying, he knew he saw the young woman who wore the green dress when they boarded that day. He felt himself sway and grab the doorframe to keep from falling over. Jordan didn't look any better and Clay disappeared somewhere, probably back to the smoke room. The girl in the green dress said something about him leaving, which angered him and he stood his ground. She made her way towards him with a frown after he said something so slurred even he didn't understand it.

"Excuse me, but we aren't here for your entertainment, sir, so I'm asking you kindly to leave us be." Clara was losing her patience and by now Abby joined her.

"You leave, I don't have t' listen t' something a little girl is tellin' me." Nate grinned and groped the air.

"Miss Forsyth, you'd best leave 'im be, we's don't want trouble." Isaac O'Harris said with a warning tone but Clara didn't budge.

"I'm a little girl? You dare call me a little girl when you're the one roaring drunk on your expensive brandy? I'm warning you to leave before I force you. Now, please go back to whatever it is that you do." Clara clenched her fists to her sides in order to keep from lashing out and striking the man across his, rather attractive face.

"Miss Forsyth, why is your name Forsyth when you're poor?"

That was it, she couldn't take it anymore and before she thought about it, Clara slapped him so hard it left a handprint.

"Now go or I shall beat you up those stairs and back to where you belong!" Clara shouted and Nate suddenly found himself grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"I ain't got to, I ain't got to, and I ain't got to if I don't bloody want to!" Nate screamed.

Suddenly the young woman threw a glass of ice water on him. He finally thought clear enough to realize the whole room was staring at him and feisty Miss Forsyth, he carefully backed away.

After the man disappeared, Clara returned to her seat feeling more than embarrassed for losing her temper. The other passengers clapped her on the back and the music struck up again. Abby winked at her as she set the glass back on the bench and returned to the dancing scene. Clara watched as children played tag amongst the dancing parents and couples who stared lovingly at one another.

Finally she stood and returned to her cabin to take Poppet for a walk.

As the dog ambled along the deck, Clara put her head in her hands and cried for the first time in four years.

---------------

And we're off!

Sorry for such a long chapter!

Til next time,

x zuz