Will Turner was exhausted. It was nearly three in the morning and he was just locking up his blacksmith shop to go home to Elizabeth. Dragging his feet along the cobblestone sidewalks of Port Royal, he didn't initially hear the scuffle of an ensuing fight.
"Get off me, you slobbering drunk!"
Will stopped in his tracks. Could it have been his fatigue playing tricks with his good sense or had that really been a female voice coming from the alleyway? He slowly reached for the sword strapped to his side and stepped into the dank shadowy passage. Suddenly, a body went flying past him. It hit the brick wall and fell to the ground in an unmoving heap. Will ran to it and crouched down, his pulse racing.
"Are you alright," he asked.
"Ugh…bloody bitch," the heap said and sat up. Will raised an eyebrow at the hefty man that was rubbing his head. What woman could have thrown this man across an alley? The answer stepped out of the shadows and Will was taken aback.
She was a wisp of a thing. She appeared to be in her late teens, perhaps early twenties, but the cloak she wore made her seem almost childlike. The hood of the cloak covered most of her face, but Will could clearly see large dark eyes and a few tendrils of jet black hair peeking out of the cloak.
Will stood and crossed the divide that separated them. "Are you alright, miss?"
The girl looked him up and down, an action that, for some reason, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. She smiled in a lazy, almost feline fashion at him, revealing straight, perfectly white teeth. Two of which happened to be unusually sharp. Will's grip on his sword tightened. Since the events that had passed almost three years, it took a lot to surprise him. This however, surprised him.