Loathing. Unadulterated loathing. For what? Her face—the face of evil. Her voice—the voice that makes lions meow in cowardice. Let’s just say she loathed it all. But how could she stand it? Cora was a terror, a witch, a menace. Some might say that ginger was some kind of martyr. Well, these things were meant to try us, were they not?
She turned to her side, her only escape seemed to be through dreams. She wished her father was here, he’d know what to do.
“No Ginger,” she sighed to herself. “Don’t wish, don’t start, wishing only wounds the heart – if I only had one.” Her heart, she remembered, was in the custody of cora. It was doomed.
“So, lass, how’s life treating ya?” came the Captain’s voice.
“Leave me alone, Hook.”
“I wish I could, but I have orders to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
“Feisty girl, ain’tcha!” he chuck