AnaMaria finished the last of her drink and left the tavern. Making sure her pistol was well concealed and her hair was hidden up in her captain’s hat, she walked down the dark street, taking care to remain in the shadows. She had only made port an hour ago. She knew not if this town welcomed her kind or not.
Silently, she slunk along, always watchful, always silent, stealthy as a cat. She could still taste the remnants on her breath. It bothered her. She didn’t like when it lingered.
She heard footsteps behind her. With one hand on the trigger, she whirled around prepared to defend herself if necessary.