My NaNoWriMo with no title xD

[Forte!]

NaNoWrimo is for quantity, not quality. While I hope it's not too random, you might have to bear with me on this one xD

"Oh! The sea goes in, the sea goes out, the sea blah blah blah... mm mm mm!" The song was a fleeting thing, reckless and load, occasionally rising above the roar of the tide as it crashed on the high butte of black rocks, chasing them further inland. A doddering old man stumbled through the tide, looking as if the lick of the waves would topple him at any moment. In his bone-white hands he clutched a small bundle to his breast, which moved occasionally as the singing piped up at a hideous frequency. "Oh, my soul, my soul, my soul for a baby from the sea! And a turtle, at that!" the blankets fell across his thin arms, revealing pink flesh and screwed up eyes. The bundle suddenly started rustling, kicking out high-pitched wails at high frequency as it opened startling blue eyes, already turning the indigo color that all babies possess before their eyes change to green or brown or any color in between.

The strange progression continued along the seashore, the baby now wailing at the top of its lungs. Birds took wing from the forest as they passed, in great flocks that were nearly as rapturous as the cries of the infant. The old man was walking in drunken forms of roughly the same appearance of the crested waves. On the edge of the horizon the impenetrable wall of black rock began to open, yawning to reveal a line of pasture dotted with what looked from a distance like snowflakes. A line of domed, squat wooden huts pervaded the foreground, and a jetty suddenly launched out over the violently swelling sea. The old man stopped and grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth, and the baby twisted in its swaddling and ceased its wailing as it stared, enraptured at the little seaside town.

"Come, little prince! your carriage awaits!" the old man crooned, and the baby whimpered softly as it was carried lopsidedly towards the huts. A cow looked up in boredom and gave a little low before lowering its head to the thin grass in the small paddock in which it was contained. The baby, disturbed by the noise, at once picked up its loud, screaming cry, and the old man began to grin and hum to himself. A mangy dog looked up from where it was sleeping and laid its ears back, baying suddenly and dashing off into the little band of trees that embraced the line of huts with its tail between its legs. When the baby's crying did not cease, a door suddenly flew open and a fluster woman popped out of the door, plump frame bouncing down the stairs and pink cheeks flushed with something akin to annoyance.

"What do yer think yer doing with that there babby?" she demanded, and the old man smiled and started singing and staggering a bit drunkenly. The woman stepped forward and took the baby from his hands, staring down at the little pink face as the crying stopped. The man simply grinned holding out his hands, and the woman looked as if she were going to rip him to pieces at any instant. "Now, lookie here, you varmint! Where did you get this babby? He's not from 'rount these parts, and he's scarcely bigger'n a newborn!"

"Aye! He's just a little prince, you see! A prince of the seas!" crooned the old man, twirling in place like a top, impervious to the outside world. "'E's just a little turtle, you see. His parents have gone away... gone away... as happy as larks, too! So the sea is his mother, and the sky is his father, and you are going to take him in!" The woman stared at him for an instant, before wrapping the baby up in the blanket and turning her attention away. She was sensible, and could see that nothing was going to get through to this old coot. All she had gleaned was that the baby was a foundling, a lost one, and that he needed a home. For certainly the old man had not been taking very good care of him.

"Well, sir! it's not polite to go 'round dumpin babbys on folks!" she spat. But when she looked p, the old man was already gone. Apparently he had a turn of foot that was much faster than his doddering belied. "Well, I dare say that was odd, was it not, littlun?" The baby was staring up at her with his big indigo eyes, and hadn't moved a muscle. For a moment concern flickered across the woman's face, and then she rushed back into the little house, where she was immediately greeted by a small, dirty little girl in a torn dress.

"Whatcha got there, ma?" the girl demanded, standing on her tiptoes lo look at the package that her mother held. "A babby! Ma, where'd you get yerself a babby from?" She followed the large woman as she clomped across the small room, demanding to know what was being done. Ma gave her a sharp look, and immediately the girl shut her mouth and sat down dejectedly in a nearby chair with a worried frown.

"Hush, Analee! I'll tell you later, when we get this babby settled. He's our responsibility, now." This was enough for Analee, who immediately turned her attention to the things that her mother was doing. She plopped the baby in Analee's arms after a moment, now clad in a clean diaper. "Here, hun, hold the babby for a moment. I have to go fetch the cot out of the cellar, and I daresay we'll have to git 'im some goat's milk. Analee stared at the unwelcome bundle, frowning, her brow furrowed as she stared at the little boy in her hands.

Ma emerged from the cellar, carrying a wooden cot that was shedding dust all over the carpet. Here was a woman who could stand heavy work, the muscles in her arms defined as she hauled the massive, heavy wooden basket into a corner of the room. the baby was wrenched from Analee's arms and laid in the thing, still as placid as he had been before. A happy gurgle rose from his throat as he grasped the wooden bars, grinning toothlessly at his new caretakers before he closed his eyes with a soft little sigh, pink cheeks marred with happy dimples. Ma gave him a tender smile, grabbing Analee roughly by the arm and hauling her out to the garden. A nanny goat baaed at them in alarm, raising her gristled old head at the strange disturbance that had entered the air. She was an old goat, one who had lived a full life and was enjoying her retirement.

"Hallo, Nana, sorry ter disturb you," Ma exclaimed, as the old nanny stood up and gave her its best annoyed glare. Analee remained silent, watching from the doorway as her mother hastily milked the goat. The nanny didn't even seem to have realized what had happened until it was already done and a half pail of milk was dragged in doors. Analee followed her mother silently, watching as an old wooden bottle was fetched, filled, and nippled. When her mother had finally sat down, cradling the baby, the young girl finally spoke again.

"Ma, what's 'is name, at least?" she asked, hovering by the door. the baby was suckling ravenously, as if he had never been fed before in his life. "'E's horrible thin, you know. What happened to 'im?" Ma looked up from her charge, stunned out of a matriarchal reverie, and a troubled look came over her face. Ma was a woman not easily flustered, she'd seen a lot in her day. She had remained remarkably unfazed by this whole ordeal until now. She looked totally flummoxed, and the baby stopped suckling for an instant, his mouth moving slowly around the nipple as he stared up at the woman above him.

“I don't have an inkling, Anna,” she said, and the baby resumed draining the bottle, “E's a foundling, we shan't have a clue where 'e's come from, I reckon.” Annalee furrowed her brow, sucking on her little thumb, rolling it around her cheek pensively. Normally, Ma would have ripped the thumb out of her mouth, but at the moment she permitted it, a frown lacing the edges of her normally blank face. “I suppose we'll have to name 'im, though. It's the day of the turtle, so think of a nice turtle name for 'im, shall we?” Annalee brightened up at the prospect of being able to name the baby, and immediately began ticking off names.

“We could call 'im Gawain, after the wise one. Turtles are supposed to be wise... or... Jeremiah, or Ysabel,” she ticked off quickly, naming several names that were more fantasy than anything that a real child would be named. Ma tuned out after the first few, rocking the child gently on her knees. He had finished drinking now, and was looking rather content, cheeks flushed and indigo eyes half-closed, a quiet purr rising from his throat.

“Jeremiah... I think that'll do it nicely,” she crooned, stroking the child's cheek with a forefinger. Analee stopped rattling of names and stuck her thumb back into her mouth, staring a bit reverentially at the child that her mother cradled. For a long moment they sat, Jeremiah, Analee, and Ma, looking as happy as clams despite the growing discontent that the day held. Jeremiah gave another happy sigh, closing his eyes and laying his head on Ma's chest with an exhaustion that belied his busy day. Analee sucked her thumb quietly as Ma laid him in the cradle, where the eyes flashed open again before locking shut again.

“Ma, I reckon we ought to be alright now. You, Jeremiah, and me.” Analee whispered, clinging to her mother's arm as she stared at the little child in the cradle. Ma nodded, eyes glazing as she stared at the fire that blazed in the small hearth. She knew that her daughter was talking about her father, who had disappeared several months ago after going off to fight the war. The roughshod family was quiet again for a long time, as the baby sighed in the firelight, breathing slowing to the calmness of his sleep. Then, as the fire faded to black, Analee too slumped into the stupor that nighttime brought.

Ma looked on into the fading embers, her wide green eyes troubled. Before she, too, went off to bed, she looked at the strange changeling who had now invaded their family so completely after such a short time. With a shiver, she stroked Jeremiah's light dusting of hair, running a finger along a distinct cowlick. She felt none of the peace that her daughter had spoken of, none of the rightness. It seemed that a time of trouble had just begun...

[Forte!]

“C'mon, Jer! It can't be that bad...”

Two children picked their way along a winding street, watching the wallows of mud that were the progeny of yesterday's storm. The one who had spoken, an olive-skinned girl with black hair that was as thick as a horse tail, was rather far ahead of the brown-haired little boy who dismally followed her. The former looked as if she were striking off into the unknown, her dark eyes blazing from a tanned face. whilst the latter kept chocolate eyes downcast, kicking a stone along the moist dirt road. Leather clogs barely clung to their soles, falling apart this late in the Autumn. The pair looked to be about fourteen, perhaps a bit older, though the girl seemed rather small and scrappy for her age. The boy, Jerry, had a somber, morose look about him, his face haunted by a perpetual frown as he reluctantly followed his friend.

"Maria, I still don't think this is a good idea," he murmured, looking up at the girl ahead of him but not making any attempt to catch up, "if we get caught, Ma'll skin us alive. Not to mention Miss Clearwater, she's not likely to be very happy about this scatterbrained plot of yours at all, not any more than I am." Maria gave him a quick glance, rolling her near-black eyes as slowing her stride to let Jerry catch up a little bit. Nonetheless, she seemed a bit less sure of herself now, and wasn't going quite as fast through the abandoned streets.

"Jeremiah Baker, you're such a turtle!" she said after a long moment, with a bright grin, "besides, haven't you ever wondered what teachers do in their spare time? Miss Clearwater is different than anyone else in this town, you notice." Jerry nodded solemnly and continued his slow march down the street, clearly lost in thought as he went. The teach was certainly different then the other people in the village, everyone knew that. For a start, she talked differently, 'properly' she called it, the way that Jerry and his friend tended to slip into now. Esme Clearwater was the only woman to come to the town from the mainland in several years, as well. She came bearing stories of massive factories that cranked out the clothing that Ma and the other women spent so much time slaving over, of a machine that could pick a cotton field in the blink of an eye. Such things were dangerous things, foreign things, things that adults didn't believe and children were enraptured by.

The little street opened into an alley up ahead, shadowy rats and alley cats skulking around the bins of meat that had been thrown out of the butcher's that morning. Maria strode into the darkness fearlessly, with Jerry trailing behind at an almost reverential distance. He admired Maria's intense bravery greatly, as it was something he would never possess himself. Turtles were known for being extremely cautious, paranoid, even. No one wanted to be a turtle. But Maria was a phoenix, the animal that rose from the ashes with new life and was the very spirit of the birth of life. She was a flame burning in the dim world, a flame that Jerry now followed, his brown eyes darting here and there across the alley nervously, with a blind trust. He had known Maria for years, since they were naught but babes, and the two had clung together like barnacles on a rock.

"Alright, I see her," Maria whispered, jolting Jerry out of his reverie. Maria's eyes were fixated on the teacher, a fair-haired woman with eyes of a blue that had never before been seen in the small town. It was well known that Miss Clearwater spent a good deal of her time near the part of town where ships occasionally came through to pick up exports and, perhaps, drop off valuable goods such as books in the small town before going off to the other side of the world. The children had known that today a shipment of readers for their classroom had been coming in, and thus, for once, they knew where to find the teacher after school was out.

To the town, the teacher was a transparent figure, someone who only existed in her element, teaching. To the children she was a mentor worthy of the highest praises, but also a creature of great elegance and mystery. Her dress was strange, clothing laced in delicate colors not seen on this land-locked island town. Her mannerisms were peculiar, she had a guarded way of speaking to others that baffled the older citizens. She was the one unknown in the town, which was meshed by time into a single, solid piece that all worked together and knew each other intimately. Esme was the odd cog, the piece that didn't belong, someone of few words and fewer friendships.

Jerry and Maria slipped out onto the main road, sticking close to the alleyways and buildings that they could duck into should their teacher see them. She was walking with a curt stride, fair hair knotted neatly at the base of her neck. The two children were silent as cats in their leather shoes as they wove through thinly dispersed clumps of people, avoiding confrontations as much as possible. Few people noticed, children were generally allowed to go where they wanted after school, so long as they were outside and not bothering their parents, who were no doubt hard at work. Esme also didn't notice, giving the baker a curt nod as she turned up his offer of freshly baked bread. This was an oddity, as well, people tended to buy what was given to them around these parts for fear that there might be nothing left the next day, especially with winter coming on. The chill bite of frost was already carried on the breeze, and meat had long been preserved for the harsh times that lay ahead.

Esme suddenly ducked into her house, a small shack that looked much like any other except for the strange doormat and the colorful clothing hung up on a line from the side of the building. A dog looked up from the in front of the door as the owner passed, wagging a thick tail. The dog was a purebred, a strain never before seen on the island, and a powerful looking creature indeed. Jerry felt Maria freeze up as she stared at the beast, unease setting in. She had never been a huge fan of canines.

"You forgot about something," Jerry murmured, shooting a glance at his friend as if to say 'I told you so'. "See, this was a bad idea after all. Besides, how are we going to see what she does if she just shuts herself up inside for the rest of the day?" A determined look suddenly crossed Maria's face, and she sneered at Jerry slightly, obviously deep in thought. Maria had a tendency to rush through her plans, however brilliant they might be able to be if she even thought them through completely. If not for her iron constitution, she would have gotten in a whole lot more trouble for her haste. Yet, she always seemed to pull things through in the end. Now Jerry frowned again as he saw the look on her face, and realized dourly that he wasn't going to wiggle his way out of this one.

"We'll get it worked out, Jerry," she said finally, "all you need to do is go over there and work your magic with that dog, and I'll be able to get close enough around to the back door to hear what she's doing inside." Jerry sighed rather loudly, knowing what she was thinking. Turtle were generally regarded as the wisest of animals, all other animals respected them and came to them with their troubles. Turtles were close to the Earth, had a way with nature that other animals lacked. However, this did not mean anything for Jerry. Maria relied too heavily on the old system of the calender, where each day had an animal patron and the children of that day were considered to be somehow akin to that animal. However, Jerry was willing to try it this once. He, too, wanted to know what the odd woman from the mainland did when she wasn't at the school cleaning or teaching.

Jerry slipped across the way, murmuring softly under his breath as he approached the massive dog. He was trying in vain to push out of his mind the fact that it could easily crush his skull with its massive black jaws. The canine bristled as he approached, and Jerry raised his head, dark drown eyes glinting in the light. The dog, a massive creature with more pounds of muscle than bone, began to growl, tail flung out like a banner, ears pricked forward in a sign of anxiety and readiness to defend its homeland.

"Don't bark, please.... please, please, please don't bark," Jerry murmured, taking a slow step close. The dog seemed caught off guard, head cocking slightly to the side at the voice. "I'm a friend." Suddenly, the growling stopped. The animal sat down, thoroughly puzzled. The massive jaws did not seem so frightening any more, and Jerry took a step forward and laid his hand on the animal's forehead. To his surprise, it did not move to bite, only crooned quietly in its throat, unsure about what had come over it. Jerry looked up in time to see Maria slip off to the back of the house, and in an instant he had joined her, leaving the guard dog bewildered and sitting on the cold dirt with a look of bemused wonder on its massive jowls.

"That was amazing!" Maria whispered ferociously, standing back from the door, "how did you do that?" Jerry shook his head quietly, unsure even to himself. He motioned towards the door, feeling that he had earned now the right to find out what the teacher was doing after all. Every muscle in his body was quivering as he approached to door with Maria, laying one ear to the wooden frame and concentrating hard, trying to hear the sounds that came from within...

For a moment there was nothing, only the scratches and thumps that came without warning or reason. The readers were plopped down on a desk, a chair was moved and scraped across the wooden floor. There was a general sound of footsteps as hard leather met hard wood, and the front door was opened to let the beast of a dog in. There was a creak as Esme sat down in her rocking chair, and after that the room feel eerily silent. The pair of children were barely breathing for fear of being heard, opening their mouths instead of using their noses and avoiding one another's glances. They dare not venture around to the window, the teacher was bound to notice if they did so, and thus they plastered their eye to the space of not even an inch that marked the bottom of the door.

Outlined in dark shadow were the legs of the rocking chair and a rug that lay across the floor, spreading nearly to the obscured figure of a fireplace. Here, the canine had taken his repose, one bright black eye fixed on the front door. He did not seem so frightening now, his black muzzle shoved under a massive paw and his frame collapsed upon the ground. Then, without warning, another shadow obscured the door frame, and a set of toes became visible in the low light. The children caught their breath, as the figure seemed poised to open the door, before Esme Clearwater finally spoke.

“Come away from there,” she said, her voice as crisp as the Autumn air, “it's broad daylight, you know. Anyone can see you sneaking around like that.” There was a cough and an embarrassed scuffle as the feet moved away, reappearing beside the fire as a massively tall figure sat down on the floor. It was obviously human, and not incredibly old, at that, with a coppery tone of hair that shone in the light that shafted through the windows.

“Sorry, miss,” came the voice, a deep, melodic sort of voice that spoke of mystery and perhaps a little bit of wilderness, as well, “it's just, well... I figured I ought to get out of here as soon as possible. Someone's bound to find out I've been hiding out here, and you're the one who's likely to get framed for it, you know.” Jerry and Maria shot confused glances across the door frame. Who was this mysterious man, who was now sitting with the dog's head in his lap and staring in boredom off at Miss Clearwater and the window behind her. The eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, the color indescribable through the thin wall of view that the children had.

“When will you learn?” came Esme's sigh, exasperated, the way she spoke to a child who was yanking her chain, “you keep coming back here and I keep sheltering you, but this cannot last forever, Musca. If only you hadn't done what you did... didn't keep doing what you do, you would have to do this, you know.” The man looked pensive for a moment, before standing up and walking over to Esme, standing behind the chair easily. Maria shuddered against the door as a harsh zephyr ripped across her back, and Jerry glued his dark eyes to the thin bar of light, trying to discern what was going on inside. This was far more interesting than he had hoped.

“You, kids! What are you doing 'ere?” the children suddenly spun around, leaping to their feet as almost a single body and gawking at the man who stood above them. His shadow eclipsed their small forms, his massive frame blocking the entire doorway. The children recognized him instantly as the butcher, whom everyone called Meaty, although he was actually Paul. He was a tough-looking character, chubby but broad enough to make it seem threatening, with an aquiline nose and two close-set beady eyes that always seemed to be glittering. Maria murmured something, and suddenly the conversation stopped within the house. There was a little gasp from Esme, who stood up and came to the door. The man seemed to be trying to hide unsuccessfully.

The door suddenly opened with a creak, and Esme Clearwater stepped out behind the children, looking slightly troubled. Jerry looked up at her calmly, tempted to shoot Maria another 'I told you so' glance but not even daring to look at her. Meaty hastily explained things to the slightly stunned Esme, who kept glancing over her shoulder at the door.

“I caught these her young'uns peekin' through the crack in the door, miss,” Meaty growled, causing Jeremiah to flinch slightly, “little rascals, always spyin'. This 'un, Maria, she's a little fireball, though I s'pose you know that. Sorry 'bout this whole business, miss, I'll take good care of these two.” Maria's face held a look of extreme terror at these words, and it seemed that Meaty was about to drag them away.

“Leave them, Paul,” Miss Clearwater finally said, grasping Jerry's shoulder with long fingernails. He gulped expectantly, eyes wide as they met Maria's. “I'll have a talk with them.” Meaty considered this for a moment, and then gave a mute nod, releasing Maria and proceeding to walk away with a warning glance at the two children. Esme game a loud sigh, releasing Jerry's shoulder, and gestured them into the house. They shuffled in with a good deal of embarrassment, eyes cast at the ground. Esme sighed, looking around the room, presumably for her companion, who was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, kids, what am I going to do with you? Musca, you'd better come out, your cover's blown. Like I told you,” Esme said, plopping down into the chair again and staring at the two children with her piercing blue eyes. There was a loud sneeze from the general direction of the fireplace, and a blackened figure emerged, amazingly tall for someone who had fit into such a small space. The dog, who was still laying on the carpet, sat up and began to growl threateningly, dark ears shooting back as it stared at Musca, who grinned sheepishly at Esme, who had her head in her hands and was shaking it sadly.

“Kids? Ye Gods, Esme! What are they doing here?” he suddenly said, turning his gaze to the children as he shook soot from his tousled hair. Esme looked up and sighed loudly, glancing at the blackened ring that now stained her carpet where Musca stood. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the massive amount of who-knows-what that was now filling the room, and was staring in disbelief at the children. They had huddled closer together now, looking a bit frightened to say the least.

“It's your fault, really,” Esme snapped, and Musca frowned and sat back down on the carpet. The dog looked positively bewildered, and let out a little howl as it stared at the massive black creature that was now attempting to rid his face of ashes. Esme turned to the kids with a sigh, “I suppose he'll have to explain now, huh? He shouldn't have hidden in the chimney, he'd look like a much more civil person if he hadn't.” Jerry was forced to agree, if the man hadn't emerged from the chimney he would have seemed a whole lot less odd. Musca rolled his eyes like a teenager and dolefully nodded at a sharp glance from Esme Clearwater.

“Well, I guess I'm forced to... But you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone why I'm here. I'm a marked man,” his whispered this last, and Maria's eyes flashed happily. For once, her expeditions had turned up something interesting, something that reeked of the adventure and excitement that she had always lusted after. “You see, on the mainland I stole something... a book... that meant a lot to the king, Morcavar. He didn't deserve to have this book, this book deserved to be burned, it is more terrible and more beautiful than anything that man should lay eyes on. But the king wasn't happy that I had taken his book, and sent his men after me, trying to take it back. In the end it was dropped over a cliff and into the sea, which has no doubt swallowed it by now.

“However, this only made Morcavar and his men more enraged. They chased me across ice and dirt and sand and even air, but somehow I managed to stay one step ahead of them. Finally, they lost the trail, only a few months ago, and I wound up hiding out here with Esme, who was the one who convinced me to steal the book anyway. You see... I had some experience with this sort of thing...” he paused, looking sheepish, as Esme shot him another icy glare, “so... that's why I'm here. You have to promise not to tell anyone. Morcavar is a powerful man. A terrible man, but a powerful man. You are lucky, here, you are not completely under his control.”

Maria's eyes were flashing as bright as the bird of her birth rite, but Jerry looked rather dour and pensive, as if the story had put him into a bad mood. Esme was looking sadly at the man, whose face was now clearing, and at her dog, who rose his head slowly and stared at Jerry, a growling purr rumbling up into his throat. Jerry looked up with a start. Why was the dog acting so strangely toward him? No other animal had ever seemed so... disturbed... by his presence. Musca looked over at the dog in surprise, patting him on the head reassuringly.

“A great adventure!” shouted Maria in jubilation, jumping up and clicking her heels together loudly, “wow! Kings, and knights... A forbidden book. I thought this sort of thing only happened in the fairy tales that Miss Clearwater reads us.” Musca shook his head sadly, stroking the dog, whose ears were pricked towards Jerry now, although the growling had stopped. Esme was glancing at Maria with a mixture of amusement and fear. The girl was the sort who would dig herself into trouble faster than you could even say the word. Jerry was looking at her in roughly the same way, shaking his head slightly and ignoring the dog's constant attention.

“I wouldn't say great,” Musca murmured, looking down at his hands. Now that the soot had cleared, deep lacerations become noticeable on the palms, things that looked to sting and burn deep into the very soul. Jerry looked at these curiously, and the man quickly folded his palms back in towards him and out of sight. Maria didn't seem convinced, in fact she looked rather anxious as she stood there, staring at her teacher now with a glimmer of interest. Here stood the woman who had pushed this man onto a horrible quest, one that had scarred him forever. A woman who had run and hid on this small island under the guise of a schoolteacher. Surely there was a great story there, too, and more to Musca's story as well. Had he hinted at a darker past?

“You children... promise not to tell anyone about this. Jeremiah, not even your mother. Not even Analee, who I know you hold as dearly as yourself. There are some who hold Morcavar in high esteem despite his tyrannical ways,” Esme said quietly, “but, now, with your promise, you must go, and leave us in peace. Musca must be sent along his way – today's exploits do not mean nothing for his safety.” Both children crossed their hearts and were ushered out of the door promptly, where they immediately sat down and stared at one another in bewilderment.