She ran. Down the winding streets and dark alleyways, her heart pounding somewhere near her throat, and her weary feet slipping on the wet cobblestones. She was drenched to the bone and shivering, but the rain continued to pour, blurring her vision and dulling her senses.Skidding around yet another corner, she splashed her way through a murky puddle, wrinkling her nose at the stench and praying it was mud that now spattered her clothes from the waist down. As if she didn't have enough problems as it was, without walking around smelling like a drain.Taking a right she ducked down a narrow walkway, hoping to loose her pursuer in the winding back streets and alleys that she recognized would lead to a number of slums, dotted with dull, grimy taverns that were seemingly forever recurring in the abyss of a port that was Tortuga.

She suddenly skidded to a halt, the constant drumming of footsteps, that had proceeded her from the main street, where she had raided the unwary pursuer's pockets, had ceased. She gulped air down greedily in an effort to quieten her loudly beating heart, which she was sure would give away her away. Her breathe came out in great torrents of white mist as it hit the cold night air, it was bitterly cold. Eerily so.
She stood waiting in the silence for the tell tale sound of footsteps, watching the drops of rain skitter off the brim of her hat, then drop to the ground. After a while she grew impatient of waiting. Noiselessly, she slunk away, taking a different pathway back the way she had came. A smile played at her lips, as her thoughts crept back to the items that lurked deep in her pocket. Not that they were exceedingly valuable, far from it in fact, which only added to her curiosity at their owners plight to retrieve them. Unless they held some deeper importance of course, but what great significance could an old battered looking compass and a handful of coins have? They were everyday objects to those in her trade.
Nothing. At least not to people like her. The compass of course didn't matter much, she supposed she could sell it, but the coins would make sure she wasn't going to go hungry tonight. Her smile widened at that prospect. Business had been slow of late, people were very vigilant in these parts, not that she blamed them. Tortuga was riddled with pickpockets, beggars and the like. All lost souls, pitiful and penniless. Similar to herself.
Most who congregated in the said hell hole were pirates, this being what the port had become so infamous for. Few honest sailors dared tread it's dank streets. Though something had to be said for an all pirate port, you could get away with murder. Literally.

She had slowed to brisk walk now, sure that she was finally alone. But, lost deep in thought, Erin had failed to notice a dark shadow, lit by the yellowing streetlights, flickering between the buildings behind her. It grew ever nearer, but cautiously so, reluctant to show itself until the critical moment.
Erin stopped, an uncharacteristic shudder had ran up her spine, she looked around her uneasily, her senses told her something wasn't quite right. Her hand lingered on the hilt of her cutlass, one of the only items of expense she owned. She had vowed never to let herself be unarmed, no matter how hard things became, you had to be able to protect yourself in her profession. Well... Temporary profession. She had no intention of remaining a petty thief, degrading as it was. Besides the fact she needed both cutlass, and pistol for protection, they reminded her of better times, although the nostalgia was depressing and the irony, sickening. But those times felt so long ago to her that she had barely any recollection of them, they haunted her in the form of daydreams sometimes, bittersweet and seeped in rum, tainted in the salty air.

A dull crunching noise nearby lurched her back into reality. She swung around, squinting through the darkness to try and pinpoint the source of the sound.
This gave her shadowy pursuer the exact opportunity he needed, a hand clamped roughly over her mouth, stifling her gasp of surprise. She was dragged back into the deep shadows, and the hand was warily removed from her mouth. She thought of making some attempt to scream or call for aid, but only briefly. There was no point, her voice would be heard by no more than a passing stray cat, at best it would be ignored. Not that she would as a matter of principle.
Erin could feel his warm breathe tickle the back of her neck, heavy with the scent of rum. Without a word, he dug in her coat pocket, retrieving the elusive compass. She nibbled on her bottom lip nervously, unsure of her next move, or what exactly was going on.
He gave a murmur of affirmation as he studied it, then muttered a distinct, "Ta", in her ear. He then proceeded to shove the compass unceremoniously back in his pocket.
Erin saw her chance, while he was distracted, to make her move. She dug her elbow hard, back into his chest, loosening his grip. He groaned in pain and annoyance, as she flung herself forward, slipping from his grasp entirely and stumbling on the cobbles.
She stopped at a sharp click from behind her, the sound of a pistol loading, and it didn't take a genius to guess where it would be aimed.
"Not so fast, love"
She slowly turned, only to see the vague figure of a man pointing, yes, a pistol at her.
She backed away slowly, back into the shadows, but the figure only advanced, until a patch of moonlight lit his features, throwing them into startling relief.
She blinked, astonished, as she recognized that face. Irony had taken a whole new angle, she mused, and as for nostalgia, it was having the night of it's life.
Two dark eyes regarded her from under a troubled brow, which furrowed as though expecting something from the would-be thief.
"I know you from somewhere don't I?", the voice enquired almost lazily.
Erin let out a deep sigh, slightly bemused that she had distinguishable in the semi-darkness. She took a step forward, out into the light.
The man's eyes widened, and she allowed herself a grim smile.