Clutching the gold coin, you feel it radiating warmth; a sense of comfort suffuses your body. Gold means security, no worries. Right?Panic grips your heart as eyes search, then skip past you. Your chin rises. You are not a thief.
It simply distracted you. The gold meant pirates, did it not? Were those not pirates in that ship disappearing over there? The remains of the merchant vessel burning were proof.
You clutch the coin harder, praying no one discovers it. For a certainty it means death to him.
"Elizabeth!" You jerk upon hearing your name shouted.
Relief, it is simply your father.