Rea glanced over at the boy bidding his family farewell and grimaced. "Family." She gawked. In her mind, the word Family usually crossed with the words Weakness or liability. Those are two words that, if exposed, can kill you very easily on the streets.
As the ship lurched away from the shore, Rea took one last breath of sea air and shut herself into a hatch. Inside, she lit a candle and set it on a box, illuminating the small space. What appeared was less than homely. The room itself was hardly larger than a closet, and much less clean than one. All around her, boards were rotting away and she could hear conversations of the people upstairs. Gonna be a real pleasant night to sleep. She thought to herself.
The reason she was playing the role of Stowaway in this situation was a common one. Rea had heard from gossipers on the streets that there was a ship embarking to a new land. She had looked it up and took all of the necessary precautions to hide away safely on the ship, planning on arriving at a more perfect world.
Getting an impulse, Rea began rummaging in her knapsack. A few seconds later, she pulled out a ream of parchment, a pen, and a bottle of ink. With the skilled hands of a master, Rea molded the three ordinary objects into a sheer work of art. Her pen flew freely over the parchment, creating words that, by themselves, could be recognized as extraordinary.
And as the ship sailed over the rolling waves, the artist continued her work.