Chapter 5

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Author's Note: Hallelujah! It is finally finished! Not the book. Chapter 5. I am so sorry it took me so long to write this filler chapter. I don't know how I managed over 5000 words. And that's not including this author's note! Lol Anyway, here it is. Dedicated to Solitary_Nugget thanks for getting me writing again after a block with your motivational comment on my story! :)

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Enna's POV

I am in my cabin on my Father's ship, packing away my things. My boat, as I can hardly call it a ship, is much smaller than the Pearl, so I can't take everything. I don't require much. I have a medium-sized chest I am filling with clothes and my spare boots and hats. I pick up yet another shirt from my large chest and stack it with the others I have packed so far. I pack silently, picking up articles of clothing, and folding them into the chest. When I finish, and cannot stuff any more clothes in, I pull the lid closed, and lock the latches down securely. With a grunt, I strain to pick up the heavy box, and move it over to the door of my cabin. I pull out a smaller chest, and begin collecting items I don't want to leave behind. I go over to my bed, and pull aside the secret board, taking out the items inside the little cubby. My journal, a locket from my Mother, my emergency stash of money, and whatever other mementos are inside. I carry them over to the chest, and drop them inside. Next, I go over to my small desk, and take the six books I have sitting on top, and place those into the chest, as well. I rumage through for my leather-bound keeper, which contains my sketches from whenever I got bored. I toss it in, along with my box of sketching pencils, another keeper filled with paper, and a small box of quills. I need to buy more ink when I go to buy food. I pull open the large drawer on my desk, and take out the maps that I have. They are all nautical, but only one has the Isle and Auradon. I need to buy at least two more, a land map of the Isle, and a land map of Auradon. I toss them into the chest and walk over to my weapons closet. I open the armoire-style doors to the gleaming array of deadly projectiles and their projectors, along with mirror-like blades in various lengths and several drawers containing very pretty, but deadly, poisonous powders and potions. I beam with pride at my collection. I spent years aquiring all this, and I hope that my Father keeps it all safe until I choose to return. For now, though, I satisfy myself with my best set of daggers, my best sword, which I sheathe onto my belt, and my smallest gun. I choose not to take any poisons, but I carefully pack away my anecdotes. I put the weapons into a cloth bag, and put the bag into the chest, then lock my weapon cabinet. I close the chest and latch it shut, carrying it over to the other chest. The bag that Sephora packed for me is already in my own boat. I take my coat and hat from the hooks on my door and don them, opening the door to three smiling faces. Master Gibbs, Pintel, and Ragetti.

"Ready, girl?" Gibbs asks. I nod.

"I have everything I need packed here, but I still need to buy food and drink and some other things." He nods his head, and gestures to the chests.

"Well, we can go ahead and take these down to the Sparrow's Nest while you go about it. Save you some time and work," Ragetti says.

"Sure. Thank you." With that, the three men enter the cabin to hoist up the chests, Gibbs and Pintel carrying the largest, and Ragetti carrying the smaller one. I take one last look at my cabin, which you can barely tell I'm leaving. With tears brimming in my eyes, I take my leave and shut the door firmly. "Captain," I say, acknowledging my father as I step out onto the deck. He smiles at me, and waves me over. I go over to his embrace, and we just stand there. The two Sparrows, wing in wing. The wind blows gently around us, making my hair brush against my cheek. The sound of fabric moving and waves sloshing and wood creaking fills the air. Besides that and the distant bustle of the port nearby, it is silent. I pull away suddenly as I remember that I never showed him my tattoo, a symbol that will now forever link us as father and daughter. I shrug off my brown leather coat, thrusting it into my Father's arms, and turn, lifting up the back of my shirt and vest, exposing the still fresh tattoo to my Father. "It's just like yours," I say. I turn my head to look over my shoulder, searching his face for his reaction. His black-rimmed eyes are moist with tears, and a soft grin rests on his lips. "Father?" I say, turning to face him. Once again, I am crushed in his embrace, and I crush him in mine.

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