Amidst the torrential storm, sailing against the surge waves was a wooden sailboat. Its mast snapped apart by the strong wind, many visible cracks covered its hull, one doesn't need to wonder if the boat was going to survive or not. The wonderous thing must be about how did this broken piece of log boat survived for so long.
Perhaps, the boat was not sailing on the surging waves but on its damn- 'Luck'. But it doesn't matter at least for now, in front of the torrential wave that had nearly reached its sweet little height and would at any moment crash down, and any form of luck however high it may be would still be- out of pocket, for this wave.
Talking about luck - aboard the boat were three unfortunates- one women and two men, hanging on to their last thread, who before had managed to narrowly escaped a near-dead experience, only to sail here of all places. Evidently, their life was tied in between knife's edge.
The women in the group, calling her woman might be rude- considering her slender figure and a determined face - for someone who has just entered into adulthood is commendable, adorned with her hazel-nut hair that loosely lay over her, soaked in salty sea water her many hair strands had entangled into each other. Her eyes were tight shut, rarely opening amidst this storm, when she does, a pair of brown eyes will quickly grasp her current situation, before she shuts them again.
Despite her elegant looks, the clothes she wore contradicts her 'profession'- if being a 'Pirate' could be said as one, then sure why not!
She wore a dark green heavy woollen coat, underneath it- an emerald-coloured vest worn over a white shirt with vertical stripes, who like everything layered over it is now stained, and worn out. This might not be suitable looking for a 'Pirate' known across the sea as 'The Drifting Beauty', famous for her lovable misadventures with rich tycoons and grumpy pirates.
'You aren't worth a Penny', this normal phrase of saying had now become her crew battle cry. Her name was- Penny, Afterall.
Captain Penny, as they say.
Penny had tightly clutched the bow seat by wrapping her hands around. Her upper body was resting atop the seat. Her head down, she shivered due to coldness brought by the splashing water and rain, though admittedly this wasn't the worse coldness she had ever faced it's just sailing at sea under the warm sun for a long time has made it worse. She had already looked through the torrential wave that will crash down upon her, so she didn't care much about her life anyway or what would happen to her. This was her end.
There was no fear or remorse on her face, rather a pain of slow burn crept her. Her passage of time had slowed down, however determined she might have been, her mind naturally couldn't keep up with it. It failed her and her unbounded will, as Penny's mind inevitably got engulfed in the darkness, or worse Penny didn't feel anything as she unknowingly entered a trance state amidst the chaos.
She fell into coma.
Despite this her rest of the body didn't fail her as even in her trance state she clutched the bow seat tightly with her arms.
With this, the torrential wave crashed down upon the boat, its surging strength snapped the boat into pieces. At ease every debris nearby got cleared up, and with the amount of weight that fell upon, many of them would be bury on the seabed.
***
On an unknown shore, a pair of eyes curiously look over some debris that had drifted away from the sea. Curious, it went ahead to examine it. Far behind the person, stood a peculiar stone tower near an edge of a cliff. An amber torch atop its crown head radiating a warm graze around its head. The beam of light emitting from the torch were amplified by the lenses carefully placed around, cascading the beam to longer distances.
Its ray of warmth reaching out even in the darkest of the abysmal sea near the cliff, known to be always engulfed in a thick grey fog.
***
'Ha, ha, ha'
'Hey, watch out!'
'What the-'
Children's laughter echoed the hall. A craftsman mansion made out of thick winter oak logs, suitable for the Northern region, known for its chilling winds cascading down from the high sky on to a tall mountain peak, spreading in all directions, maintaining an optimal temperature year around for the northern habitant.
Once a month, once bi-weekly, once a week and finally once a day, were the patterns of the ritual that determined the chilling wind waves forming a natural calendar for the locals.
The closer two rituals are against each other, the more chilling the winters would be.
On a flat floor made out of the very winter oak logs, lay a small girl. Her eyes closed, a portion of face illuminated in the warmth of an oil lamp placed atop a wooden table on the left, showed an exhausted expression on the girl's face. Her hands placed on her stomach – fingers closely entangled into each other.
She wore an icy blue woollen coat that covered her entire body, and a hood over her head covered her hair bun, while a pair of thick goat gloves and boots protected her little hands and feet from the freezing floor. Suddenly with a 'thud', her eyelids open revealing a pair of brown eyes.
The girl's face despite her surroundings, was soaked in sweat, as she took repeated deep breaths. Calming herself down – as it seems. She slowly stood up, supporting herself off the floor. Her body in a deep wobbly state, as her legs shake until she seated herself on a chair placed near the table.
After a while, as her breathing become steady and even, she slowly lifts her hood off, revealing her hazel -nut hair bun that soon spread open falling down to her waist. Under the illumination of the oil lamp atop the table, her face became clear.
The girl had sharp chin, chilly brown eyes, and a sweet red nose, like a cherry upon her face. If it weren't for the previous description of a determined young adult, it would be hard to differentiate between this 'Penny' and that 'Penny'.
Somehow, for her she had travelled back in time, the time where she faced the chilliest of the winter!