A/N : Here's chapter 3 already, as you should know if you bothered reading the author note in chapter two.

Four years post-curse of the Black Pearl…

"Get back 'ere, you wretch!"

Kat ran as quick as she could. Strands of her dark brown hair which had escaped her long braid were flying behind her. She had never been able to steal live poultry from under a farmer's nose before, so the thrill was pumping a near over-dose of adrenaline, keeping her legs pumping.

"Stop 'er! Stop 'er! She's got me rooster!"

Idiot. All he had to do was be more careful and not try talking to the whore who was walking by.

Then again, it was Kat who had managed to use three shillings from a change purse she had stolen that morning to get the whore to distract the farmer in the first place. One of his slaves had seen her and sounded the alarm.

Kat managed to dodge everyone very nicely, and ducked into an alleyway.
Panting, she tried to curl up between two crates as best she could, holding the rooster to her, and pinching it's beak shut with her right thumb and forefinger.

Despite the fact that she was fourteen, she was rather tall. Her long legs were an asset in her many escapades.

Kat didn't have anyone. She used to have a guardian, but she had died two years ago. The last thing she had told Kat were the names Jessica and Jack.

Jessica had been her mother's name. She had died when Kat was a baby. Her guardian told her that it was because the town they were in was attacked and Jessica was too weak to run, having just given birth. She didn't know who her father was, although it was easy to suppose that his name was Jack. All the guardian had known was that someone was supposed to tell them when his ship arrived in port. That left Kat guessing that he was either a merchant sailor or a pirate. Although, from the bit she heard of pirates here and there, they were not the sort to marry.

Kat scratched at an itch on her leg, then realised there was a tear in her pants.

Thank God Melissa taught me to sew.

Later, when she was sure that it was safe to leave her hiding place, Kat walked down the opposite end of the alley and snuck through a hole in a wall. Once there, she made her way downwards and reached the basement of the tavern. However, where she was, there was a wall between her and the place where the pub keeper kept his stock. There was a secret opening between the two, which she used to occasionally nick food and drink. At the moment, however, she felt like being served a real meal. Kat snuck through the opening between the storage and her room, and, after checking that the rooster was still breathing, made her way upstairs into the bar.

The pub keeper had given her a plate of cooked chicken and a pint of rum in exchange for the rooster. Kat suspected it would become someone else's meal the next day.

She ate gratefully, but made sure to keep some for breakfast the next morning, as she never knew where or when she would get her next meal.

After finishing half of what she had, she poured the remaining rum in a flask she always had with her, and wrapped the chicken in a handkerchief she normally had tied around her neck.

Setting out of the tavern, she decided she would walk down by the docks to see what new ships had come in. Kat often liked looking at the ships, comparing them, and, occasionally, wondering if her father was aboard one of them.

She used an alleyway as a shortcut, even though the time of year meant that it was getting darker quicker.

The docks had just come into view when she noticed footsteps behind her. She turned immediately, as she had learned that ignoring a suspected stalker was never a good idea in Tortuga. She had managed to get out of her trouble, but barely.

The man behind her was filthy, had matted hair and wore tattered clothes. His manner indicated he was drunk.

"Pretty li'le thing like you oughtn't be alone, sweet."

"I prefer to be alone than in th'comp'ny of someone like you."

"Ooh, li'le miss sounds older than me thought. 'Ow old you be, dearie?"

"Fourteen." She answered truthfully. She had found that some men preferred to avoid someone her age, for some reason. It didn't always work, and this seemed to be such a case.

"Ooh, li'le miss be younger than me thought. Me thinks that make it better."

Kat pulled out the dagger Melissa had given her on her twelfth birthday. It had belonged to her mother. It had helped her in many tight spots before. Melissa had told her that the picture carved into the sheath of a sparrow flying into the sunset was identical to a tattoo her father had. In this way, Kat felt as though her father was with her in moments such as these.

"Li'le miss thinks that a knife be scary to ole Starkey? Miss be dead wrong."

Starkey lunged at her, and she managed the slice a cut on his arm. However, the attempt to both defend and avoid him, mixed with the half-pint of rum she had drunk earlier, made her lose her balance.
The man was on her before she try getting up. She tried to hit him with her dagger again, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she dropped it.
She tried screaming, and then the man hit her on the side of her face.

"Come on, then, girlie. No need t'be making a fuss."

"Excuse me," another voice said. "That's not very nice."

A/N: Well, I gotta find SOME way of making sure you keep reading. Hehehe… I'm mean, aren't I? Oh, and the line of "Stop 'er, stop 'er! She's got me rooster!" Is a modification of a line in the book Pélagie-la-charette by Antonine Maillet. I'm sure the book was translated into english, for those of you who don't know French. A very good book about a group of Acadians who try to make their way back to Acadie after the deportation of 1755. For those of you who know nothing about the deportation, try google. It oughta have something. I'm of Acadian descent, and I love reading about my history.