She didn't know what she was going to do.
I am not here. I'm invisible.
But she was too panicked to get into the right state of mind.
However, no one came below. She heard footsteps going back and forth on deck, and some thumping almost directly above her that made her jump. More footsteps. More thumping. Then a pause that was long enough she thought she might be alone, until abruptly the boat's bobbing became more pronounced.
Lucy craned out of her hiding place, and then very carefully put her legs over the edge. Holding onto things, she felt her way over to the porthole and peered out of its smeary surface.
It was hard to make out exactly what she was looking at, especially since she was seeing it from water level, but she could tell they were moving.
To do away with any doubt, the engine started up with a thumping rattle.
Lucy jumped. It was very loud down here.
The boat began to pick up speed.
She swallowed and sat on the edge of the bunk.
Okay ... so she had gotten away, for now. At least it seemed so.
She had also had only a donut and a half to eat in most of the last day, she was jumpy and scared, and she was currently in a boat belonging to a total stranger who was going who knows where with her. Almost certainly a male stranger. There was an indefinable sense of maleness to the cabin and especially to the smell around the bed, which nevertheless intrigued her. It wasn't a bad smell at all. It was simply very musky and masculine.
And whether she wanted it or not, she was headed out to sea with him.
EREN
Eren hadthe strangest feeling that he wasn't alone on the boat.
He couldn't identify exactly where the feeling came from. Being a shifter meant that he often had semi-instinctive urges and emotions that defied rational explanation; his shift animal knew more than his conscious mind. After all that had happened to him, he was no longer fully in communion with his bear, so he struggled at times to understand what it was telling him or why.
This was one of those times. He didn't get a sense of danger, just a strangely unsettled feeling.
It had better not be the blasted trash griffins nesting on the boat somewhere.
He motored away from the docks, past the fishing boats, pleasure boats, and container ships that all shared the sheltered St. John's harbor. Brilliant green hills covered with ranks of the colorful townhouses that the city was famous for rose around him, gleaming in the sun. He took the boat slowly through the cliffs guarding the entrance to the harbor, and then kicked up the throttle and felt the last of his stress subside as the city fell behind him, mile upon mile of gleaming waves carrying him away.
Normally the motion of the boat soothed his bear, but today it continued to be restless, refusing to settle down.
Come on, bear, is it going to be like this all the way to the island?
His bear's response was even more muddled than usual. His ability to get clear answers out of it had been broken along with the rest of him, but it wasn't usually this bad. Something was upsetting it. Or intriguing it? He had a hard time being sure.
And now that he was out on the water, in the sun and the wind, he realized that in his haste to leave the city, he had forgotten to make sure he had a bottle of water, Gatorade, or coffee to drink while he drove the boat. It wasn't absolutely necessary, but it was far more comfortable in these dehydrating conditions.
He licked salt spray off his lips and throttled down the boat. Their forward progress slowed, and the boat began to roll slowly on the light waves.
There was a thump from down in the cabin.
Great. What had he forgotten to secure? Hopefully nothing that couldn't be easily put back. He glanced at the coolers and the rest of the groceries, but they seemed to be riding fine.
He left the boat rolling on the waves, and went down to the cabin to grab a cold drink from the fridge and see what had fallen.
The cabin was small and dim, nothing like the comfortable home-away-from-home cabins of rich weekenders' cruising boats. It was meant for utility rather than comfort, and held little more than a cramped cooking area, a small head—otherwise known to landlubbers as a bathroom or washroom—and a berth for sleeping, big enough to accommodate one large man. You could step across it in two strides.
In the small space, there was nowhere to hide, and he caught a clear glimpse of movement as someone or something ducked back and vanished in the shadowed back where the sleeping berth was.
"Hey!" Eren snapped.