The longboat wedged into the slushy sand. Elizabeth ordered everyone to carry as many flasks and pails as possible before trekking through the thick brush. The lazy, starry palm trees had vanished with St. Augustine, making way for bars upon bars of black trunks that stretched far over her head. She could hear the last of the rain, guiding her to the sound of the fresh spring.
"It can't be far. Let's go," she said.
"I'm tellin' you, if Arthur'd pulled the sword out of a pie, it'd have been a better story," Pintel barked from behind her.
"But it had to be a stone! Only a king could pull a sword from a stone!" Ragetti argued. "How's a sword going to stay in a pie anyway?"
"That's the trick! Ye know it's magic when it can stay in a pie. Of course it's gonna stay in a stone."
"What on earth are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked, biting her lip and wishing she'd stayed uninvolved.
"You'd know a magic sword when you saw one, wouldn't ya, Poppet?"
"I think the odds of a magic sword being stuck in a stone are loads better than a magic sword in a pie!" Ragetti said, his voice growing defensive.
"I ain't arguin' odds!"
"No, you're arguin' pie! A stone's classier."
"It don't matter where it come from, so long as people know it's magic! Some sword...couldn't save Camelot at all, could it?"
Decidedly not the type of analysis she would participate in with her governesses, Elizabeth thought, following the sound of the water.
"Came from the Lady in the Lake anyway," Pintel went on. "And she got it back at the end!"
"Of course! Gifts from the gods go back to the gods."
"Shut it, both of you," Elizabeth hushed them, a finger to her lips to soften the scolding. Weaving through some low branches, she arrived at a clearing where the spring flowed, tranquil and undisturbed. The forest around them quieted. No more chirping or rustling made her ears feel heavy, like they'd stopped working. Her fingers flew to the key around her neck. Released from her vows or not, her lips dried at the thought of something happening to her. What would become of the key? What if the legends circulated that she had it and aroused the greed of every man with even a budding interest in controlling the seas?
"Miss Elizabeth? Miss Elizabeth, are you all right?"
She jumped at Ragetti's single, buggy eye so close.
"Fine. Let's hurry before dark. We don't want to get lost."
If the two of them continued discussing swords and pies, Elizabeth failed to hear, their tongues as nonexistent as Cotton's, as far as she was concerned. Elizabeth Swann, do you take me to be your husband? Soaked and so surrounded by weapons she'd wondered how Will had even been able to find her in all the commotion. Giddy and beginning to accept the makeshift wedding would be her last moments with a blissful abandon, she'd cheered her vow to him, almost giggling. And now released...being heralded as Mrs. Turner once and one sweet consummation and then it was over, a goodbye instead of a honeymoon. Released? Will meant well, always did, and maybe someday he would find lost at sea a beautiful lass willing to serve a few years on the Dutchman by his side, but absolute liberation meant no ties, no connections, and nothing worth fighting for.
"I wish I'd accepted Mr. Gibbs' offer to come along," she said out loud. "He could have told us stories about this place."
"Maybe there ain't no stories," Ragetti gulped. "Maybe people don't come out of here."
"Then we'd have the first story!" Pintel laughed, elbowing his partner in the ribs. He sealed the last pail and lifted it by the handle, knocking it into the one next to it with a loud clang. "Oops."
"Be quiet," Elizabeth said. "We don't want to attract..." A low rumbling came from the other end of the spring. They all stopped and peered into bushes. Whatever it was remained hidden, save for the ripping, juicy sounds of eating. Elizabeth reached down for her sword, stepping backwards with the rest of them. With her hands, she motioned as best she could for them to pick up their effects without a sound, the chewing and gnawing growing louder.
Cotton was the closest to the brush. Just about to turn, he stepped on a fallen twig, snapping it. The rumbling ceased, replaced by a growl.
"Get back to the ship," Elizabeth whispered, flinching at a stronger growl. Fixing her eyes on the bush, she caught sight of two nonhuman gleams. A dark snout protruded out, leading to the massive head of a black bear.
"Stay calm," she whispered again, steadying her voice. "I'm sure if we leave it alone..."
The roar deafened her. Like the rest, she dropped the pails to cover her ears. The bear maneuvered its way out of the bush and balanced itself on its hind legs, more than a foot taller than Ragetti.
"Run!" Pintel bellowed, sprinting into the brush. They followed suit, scattering in the dark forest, barely feeling the spiderwebs and branches snag their clothing.
"Stay together!" Elizabeth shouted, zigzagging through the woods, feeling the vibrations of the bear behind her. She needed to find the others. Why hadn't they stayed together?
"If I get away I'll kill Captain Teague!" Pintel's voice echoed through the trees. So could the thump of one of them tripping. She slid at a place where the forest ran downhill and rolled into a tree root curling up from the ground. Crouched down, she dusted herself off and listened. She could still hear shallow, panicked breaths, only now they were fainter. They wouldn't leave without her, she told herself, not after she'd helped save them from the hangman's noose. Pirates, she argued, rolling her eyes at her ability to argue with herself at a time like this. Jack wouldn't leave without her...
Enough of this, she thought, standing. Elizabeth Swann, Pirate King, is not going to be mauled to death by some bear. Unsheathing her sword, she inhaled and took off running.
"Orson! Orson!" she heard. She quickened her pace to the point her feet throbbed inside her boots.
"Here, boy! Oh, where do you suppose he's gotten off to this time?"
The voices ran together until they were more like the wind, permeating around her like the odor of the berries. The trees began to clear, she noticed, a drained smile stretching across her flushed face. She'd see the beach and then the longboat and they would row back to the Golden Queen and resupply someplace else...unless the bear was a strong swimmer. One thing at a time, she reminded herself, trying desperately to catch her breath.
The bear leaped out on all fours in front of her, roaring and shaking its head to and fro. Her sword positioned, she took in its size.
"Oh, oh, there! Stop her!"
A flash of white ran across her eyes before Elizabeth fell into blackness.
A/N: I did some research on American black bears for this chapter and was surprised to learn that males can get pretty enormous, so I hope I captured how terrifying angering one would be. I'm so sorry about the chapter titles. As you may have guessed, the person whose point of view I'm using is also the title of the chapter, but this site won't let multiple chapters have the same name and I didn't know that until I posted the last chapter. So that one was originally going to be just "Gibbs" and this one "Elizabeth" and so on. Now the chapter titles just look garish. Sorry.
