Disclaimer: Persuasion… decidedly unfriendly.

A/N: Happy (belated) Talk Like A Pirate Day! (19th September 2006 :D)
Just a quick note about the previous chapters - the Bible verses contain foreshadowing. See if you can spot what I mean. I'm surprised no-one commented on the squid's savage attack on Squirrel because I thought it was comment-worthy. And filled with foreshadowing. Kudos and thanks to CompYES and Sentinel Sparrow for being constant reviewers. Cookies and rum-and-raisin ice-cream to you both.
This chapter took a little longer than expected, but hey, here it is. It's just what the doctor ordered. Please don't kill me if it doesn't turn out how you want. Rating's going up, btw, due to this chapter. Ye be warned.

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That song was back again. Squirrel found herself humming it under her breath. It was strange - she had no idea where it had come from. She'd certainly never heard it before. Not played out loud. Only in her head. It was as though the music were coming from a dream.

Squirrel continued to hum the tune to herself emerged on deck, a smile on her face as the beautiful notes danced in her head and in her heart. Perhaps one day she'd find out where this beautiful and sad song came from. For now, though, she had other things to think about. Like, lunch, for instance. She reached Jack's door and opened it, still humming as she stepped inside.

Jack jumped, slamming shut the lid of the chest with the air of a guilty man, and whirled to face her. "Try knocking," he shouted, then checked himself when he saw who had disturbed him.

Squirrel blanched, just as surprised as he was. She'd opened the door to his room expecting him to not be there. She'd expected the room to be just as it was when she'd broken in last night: empty. She'd never stopped to think that maybe he'd be in here.

But why shouldn't he be? This is his cabin, remember?

"I did," Squirrel said, trying to recover her scattered wits.

Jack frowned curiously, watching her. "I didn't hear you."

The colour returned to Squirrel's face, and then even more so. "I brought your lunch," she said, taking an uncertain step forward.

Jack turned away, disinterested and dismissing. "Not hungry." He ran his fingers over the edge of the chest, clearly itching to open it again and re-examine the contents.

Squirrel bowed her head, hiding a hurt expression. "I'll leave it here for you anyway, Captain." She moved to the table, and cleared a space for the plate. The smell of the stew was making her mouth water - Gibbs had done well this time. She was looking forward to a plate of it herself.

"I never got to thank you, luv."

Squirrel looked up, and found Jack standing on the other side of the table, his eyes on her. Squirrel flushed again. Her heart beat out a rapid tattoo. "What for?"

Jack smiled and moved fluidly around the far side of the table. "Oh, come, luv. No need to be so modest." He grinned. "You're more than just a pretty face."

Squirrel's heart beat faster from two different kinds of panic. The first: He must know. He must know I broke in. I've been caught. The second kind of panic was simply this: I'm in his cabin. In his cabin with him. With Captain Jack Sparrow. … and he thinks I'm pretty?

Jack sauntered over to the chest of drawers, grinning to himself all the while, as though at some great joke he were about to share. He opened one of the drawers - the one full of dried sea critters and assorted wildlife - and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

Squirrel's heart leapt into her throat, and she couldn't help but stare.

Jack held up the papers. "Gibbs gave me these," he said, noticing and enjoying Squirrel's obvious alarm and discomfort. With affected nonchalance, he flipped through the papers, looking impressed. "You did a good job with the inventory, luv. Powder, food, livestock…" His eyes were dark and smoky. "You're very into the details, aren't you?"

Squirrel looked away, feeling sick to her stomach. She'd tried to bury this knowledge since last night, tried to forget the role she'd played. Yet Jack was intent on reminding her.

He considered her with a tilted head. "How many men did you count coming aboard last night?" He smiled charmingly. "Not counting meself and yourself, of course."

Squirrel closed her eyes, her gut churning. "One hundred and five," she whispered, her voice strangely hoarse. She felt terrible - worse than she'd ever felt - having to count the commodore, Elizabeth, Gibbs and the rest of her family in this count. But her captain had asked a question which she answered as surely as though it were a direct order.

Squirrel knew she was going to be sick if Jack kept this up.

"You know how many men we were able to hire last night?"

Squirrel shook her head.

"Four," Jack said, coming back towards the light of the table's candles, the inventory lists still in his hands. "Five, if you count the commodore." He looked intently at Squirrel, though she tried to avoid his gaze. "Five. Yet somehow, the count stands at a hundred and five. That leaves about 90 men unaccounted for, seeing as Elizabeth joined of her own free will," he smiled at the unintentional pun, "And with the other five crewmen already aboard." He looked puzzled, but mockingly so; his hands twisted and turned in the air. "Ninety men, luv. Ninety men."

"I can count, you know." Squirrel snapped, her temper rising to fight the queasiness of her conscience. "And it's ninety-eight."

Jack merely looked amused. "I know, luv." He carried the lists back around the other side of the table, "You're very good at countin'. You're good with numbers." He grinned. "But that's not all you're good at, aye?"

Squirrel wanted to turn around and run, but instead she grit her teeth and held her ground. "What are you talking about?" She asked, even though she knew full well.

"You were born on Tortuga," Jack said, his voice a knowing burr, his hands sawing the air. "You know it well. You know what kind of men men have to be to want to put into that kind of port; what kind of men will willingly put into that kind of port."

Squirrel looked at Jack scathingly. "Are you referring to the condition of their souls, captain?"

Jack refused to rise to the bait. He waved the papers at Squirrel, just out of her reach. "You've said you can read men, luv. And I don't doubt that." He looked sidelong at her, taunting. "I'm not angry, luv," Jack smiled. He consulted the list one more time. "I'm impressed. Given your strict moral compass, I'm surprised you were willing to stoop so low in order to save my…" He paused, tapping his chin with the papers, "What was it you said? 'Slimy hide'?"

Squirrel had nothing to say.

Jack threw the lists on the table with the air of a man throwing down a winning hand. "That there is ten times more rum than a crew this size needs. Enough for a barrel for every man aboard. Enough rum to sink a ship, luv. Or, at the very least, enough rum to draw ninety men from over Tortuga." He pinned her with his eyes. "They followed the rum, luv. The rum you wanted. The rum you ordered. And you knew they would. After all, don't you have a talent for reading men? And you'd know men from your hometown better'n any." Squirrel flushed, wanting to look away, but she couldn't. She couldn't tear her eyes from Jack. He continued, "You must've emptied a warehouse with that order of yours."

"The entire north warehouse," Squirrel whispered, her voice low. "And from the dock-side 'house too."

Jack looked pleased. "So the angel who hovers around my shoulder has a devilish streak after all."

Squirrel flushed, angry, guilty, ashamed, and more. This game was all in Jack's favour. She had no chance, no hope. He was playing her for a fool.

"Don't feel so bad," Jack said breezily, flitting around his cabin with affected nonchalance. "You did what you felt was right. What you had to do, aye?" He grinned at her, gold teeth glinting. "That's a pirate's way, luv."

Squirrel snorted, forcing a bravado she was too disheartened to feel. "I didn't think it was right!" She faced Jack, though her eyes were stinging and her heart was pounding. "But I did it anyway! And I hate myself for doing it!" Anger chased the tears. "And what does it matter, anyway? With Davy Jones' heart in your possession, you won't need those men. They don't matter. In the long run, it doesn't matter what I did."

"Not the point," Jack said lazily, leaning against the wall and examining his nails. "You were still willing to condemn men to death for me." He put a hand over his heart. "I'm touched, luv. Truly. You did say you were willing to do anything for me, but I must say I wasn't expecting this." He tilted his head, an eyebrow raised. "Is this your way of paying me back for saving your life?"

Squirrel scowled, but was caught off-guard. "What?"

Jack counted off on his fingers. "You were burned, you were shot, and you almost drowned." Jack shrugged. "Seeing as how I've saved you three times, I guess this means you only have to save me two more times before we're square."

The man's arrogance was infuriating. "This isn't about your ego, Jack! It's not all about you!"

Jack shrugged, smiling in that way which might have made Squirrel melt. "Really? I beg to differ."

Squirrel shook her head, disgusted, and turned to leave. "You know, the sooner we get to Isla Cruces the better," she muttered. "Then I won't have to put up with this nonsense. And the men can go back and live their lives as free men. Not to mention the condition of my own conscience, which should…"

"I beg your pardon?"

Squirrel stopped, her hand on the doorhandle. Something in Jack's tone sounded almost… threatening. What had she said? What had made Jack…?

Oh, no.

Clearing her throat, Squirrel tried to recover herself. "I've delivered your meal, c-captain," she couldn't help but stutter in nervousness, "I have other d-duties to attend to. Good day."

"Not now you don't." Jack's footfalls were swift, and she soon felt him stand right behind her. "What did you say?"

Trapped. Squirrel turned back to face Jack, putting a mask on that almost slipped. He was a foot from her, looking at her with such intensity it was alarming. His closeness and his gaze made her feel hot under the collar, though for two separate but very related reasons.

"I said," Squirrel said, blushing bright red, "The sooner we find Davy Jones' heart, the better."

"Isla Cruces," Jack said, frowning at her. "You said 'Isla Cruces'. Where'd you hear about that, luv?"

Squirrel said nothing, but looked down and away. The clear space in the shadow of her burns caught her eye. The shape of Jack's hand on her arm silently accused her, just as the man himself.

"How did you know about it?" He repeated.

Squirrel took a breath. No more hiding - play the game. "I broke in here," she said frankly, looking straight at Jack. "After you lent me the compass, I broke into your cabin, and I found the charts." She looked away, examining a candle at the other end of the room. "I used your charts, Jack, and I figured out where Davy Jones is likely to have hidden his heart. That's all." Your move, Jack.

"So. You knew." His eyes were dark and fathomless. "You knew where fish-face's heart was hidden." He clenched his fist, obviously mastering his temper. "So when were you planning on telling me?"

Squirrel looked away again, feeling as foolish as a child. "L-later."

"How later?" Jack asked, the warmth gone from his voice. "Later, as in after Captain Calamari-for-brains caught up to me? After I sank into the black depths of despair? After trading over ninety-nine men? After what, exactly?"

Squirrel screwed up her eyes to try and stem the tears. "I don't know! I would have told you… but I was angry…"

Jack laughed shortly. "Angry? You were angry at me?" Squirrel felt his thumb brush at her eyes, wiping away her tears, and she froze, unable to move. She opened her eyes, and stared. Jack smiled infuriatingly - beautifully - at her. "Angry for why, luv?"

Squirrel swallowed, nervous as hell, mentally fumbling with the cards she no longer held. "You broke your promise," her voice was near inaudible, "I thought I could trust you, but I don't think… I can…"

Jack lowered his head, inches from her face. "Never trust a pirate," he whispered, the breath of his words brushing her lips. A fresh shade of scarlet whispered across Squirrel's face. Jack smiled, his eyes sparkling, before pulling back and giving her room enough to draw breath.

Squirrel tried to gather her wits, to pick up the cards she'd dropped from previous game. Jack's hands flickered through the air, hitching themselves into his belt by the thumbs, and the pirate himself looked down at her with a small smile playing around his lips. He had the air of a man in control, and small wonder - Squirrel was falling apart. Red in the face, Squirrel put a hand over the void in her burns, and half-turned to leave.

"Thankyou," Jack said.

Squirrel turned back, surprised. "F-for what?"

There was no mocking amusement in his eyes, no teasing in his smile. "Even though you didn't want to," he said softly, "Thankyou for buying the extra rum. For bringin' the extra crew aboard. Even though you felt bad about doin' it, thankyou." He shrugged. "There, I said it. Thankyou for saving my life." He added with a smile, "Such as it is."

Squirrel felt her grief and guilt evaporate as she nodded. "You're welcome." She managed a half-smile back at him. "And thankyou."

His beads clinked as he tilted his head. "For?"

"Saving mine." She smiled a little stronger, though her face was still pink. "Those three times."

Jack grinned, and swayed on the spot slightly. "Not a problem, luv."

There. Squirrel felt the cards slip back into her hands. Game over. You did it. You finally said thankyou. You finally had the courage to come into his cabin and say thankyou. Now, you can go. Squirrel half-turned, then sighed. No, not yet. This game isn't over yet. She turned back one last time.

"I have a question," she said, amazed at her own boldness. "What…" She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "What," she said slowly, as though by saying the words she'd ruin this feeling, or bring about some catastrophe in the days ahead, "Do I mean to you?"

Jack's expression did not change, but something in his manner did. Something subtle in the way he stood. It all seemed so fraught with meaning. Everything did, even the candlelight and the noon light through the windows and the shadows on the floor.

"Why do you ask?" Jack said, betraying nothing.

Squirrel shrugged, helplessly red-faced. "I…" How much do I tell? How much does he know? "I want to know what I'm worth."

It's true. I do want to know. Squirrel tried not to let any pleading desperation show in her eyes. I want to know whether I'm just a girl from Tortuga, just another member of the crew, to you. I know I'm not useless, but I want to know if you need me. I want to know how you feel. I want to know if I mean anything to you.

Because you mean so much to me.

"Do you want an honest answer?"

Squirrel frowned. "What?"

Jack's easy-appearing grin was somewhat disarming, though it seemed something of a mask. "Considering you're asking the question of a dishonest man, you probably won't get the answer you want."

Squirrel felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. "Are you telling the truth?"

Jack shrugged. "Hard to say, luv. After all, I am a dishonest man. And a dishonest man is hardly a good and trustworthy man."

"I don't believe that." Squirrel said quietly. "I think you're a good man." Or, at least, you could be. You have that potential. You just prefer to be this way.

"That's because you're honest, luv." Jack's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Honest to a fault."

"A fault?"

"Aye," he grinned, this time his grin was more believable. "Stupidity. Honest to the point where you're stupid."

Squirrel returned the jibe. "Oh, and dishonest men are always smart, are they?"

"Didn't say that." He pulled a moue, beaten at his own game.

Squirrel waited, her honest eyes open and patient. The time for jokes was over. She wanted an answer.

Jack paused for a moment. He took a half-step forward, half-step to the side, lithe as a dancer, not taking his eyes from Squirrel's. "You're worth more than you give yourself credit for." He said finally, gently.

Squirrel nodded, accepting the answer. But she looked up at Jack with a glint of melancholy in her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question." She smiled a farewell, turned and set her hand on the doorhandle.

Jack's hand closed over hers, and held on tight.

The copper of the doorhandle sent electric shocks up Squirrel's arm, kick-starting her heart to beat triple-time. Her skin burned, fire coursed through her veins, and all she saw was dancing flames. The sound of her heart was the beat to which those flames danced, faster and faster and faster, like the wings of a tiny bird.

"You could stay," he murmured into her hair, his free hand brushing along the burns on her arm. Each burn seemed to catch fire one more time, leaping from ashes into embers which glowed red-hot.

Her mouth was dry, and every sense blazing beyond common sense. "I… can't stay…" she whispered, still holding onto the handle, her scarred hand pressed palm-first onto the door. Without the solid support of the wood, she would fall. She would fall, and she would blaze out of control. She had to hold on.

Jack peeled Squirrel's hand from the handle, and gently turned her around by her shoulders. Squirrel let go and was lost, lost in his eyes and the burning of her skin. Lost in the closeness of his presence. Jack's breath was close, close and warm. Jack's eyes were a mirror, and they burned into her.

"I could give you a reason," he said, his voice deep and soft and low, pressing close, close to her.

She could hardly breathe. Liquid fire raced through her veins. Jack brushed back her hair, his nimble fingers gently tugging on her ears, on those silver hoops of hers. The pain from the recently-burned flesh seemed to affirm to Squirrel that she was really here. This was no dream. Thoughts of him - no, not thoughts of him, but just him - were bubbling in her brain, headier than any kind of wine. The heat of the candles on her skin was nothing - nothing - compared to Jack's gentle touch. His hands moved from her ears, one closing around her shoulder - her burnt shoulder - the other on her waist. His touch was maddening. His eyes held hers, drawing her into those deep pools. Deeper, deeper deeper she was drowning drowning in the inferno that was Captain Jack Sparrow she was on fire burning burning burning writhing in the flames dancing in the blaze and not caring not wanting to be anywhere else but here with him in his arms… She was on fire.

Burning.

Perhaps it had been a quirk of fate, a cruel trick of destiny. Perhaps it had been a sound outside, someone's stumble or cursing, the sound of a seabird or the waves against the hull. Perhaps it had been that strange song she'd heard in her dreams. Perhaps some outside influence had interfered, knowing of something yet to come. Perhaps it had been an old memory, the smell of seared meat and a cousin's cruel laughter. Perhaps it had been a cold shadow passing between the sun and the sea, a distant horror that somehow reached across the water. Perhaps it had been Squirrel's own instinct. Perhaps it had been all of these, and none.

Squirrel turned her head.

Jack's kiss missed its mark, but it burned Squirrel nonetheless. His lips against her cheek were hotter than any metal plate, and twice as painful. Squirrel couldn't help but give something like a pained gasp, the falling final breath of a drowner, the sound of the wind through the canvas in the midst of a storm.

She wanted to turn back, to have him kiss her again, properly, but there was a chill in the pit of her stomach which was spreading, killing the flames in her veins.

Jack seemed to sense the change in her, and pulled back. His eyes still smouldered, but here he waited, patiently. He alone controlled the fire, where Squirrel was simply at its mercy. His hands pulled away, releasing her, and he moved back, putting air and space between them. But he was still close, close enough for Squirrel to see herself reflected in his dark and fathomless eyes. And his hand brushed the print that he'd made in her burns.

Squirrel breathed, unable to form words, unable to think on what she needed to say. But Jack nodded, a silent understanding tempering a desire which threatened them both.

Somehow Squirrel left the cabin, shutting the door behind her. But she had no memory of it. All she heard was the sound of their breath; all she'd felt was his body close to hers, the heat that come from him. All she saw was the beads in Jack's hair, the weave of his braids… the only thing she'd been able to see of him when he'd kissed her.

He'd kissed her.

Squirrel's senses were reeling - was the deck solid beneath her feet, or was it soft and yielding to the soles of her shoes? Where was the sky? Up, or down? Direction had no meaning; she was so dizzy she could barely stand upright. She staggered sideways, to where the wall seemed to offer somewhere sturdy to lean against. The wood was warm from the sun - she felt it though her shirt and through the palm of her hand. Her thoughts were scrambled, nonsensical words and phrases strung randomly together from letters of the alphabet. Pshg… Nghhl… Frshjl… Eyrlk… Dwrft… And she was so, so warm. A warmth that had nothing to do with the beautiful Caribbean weather. Remembering the smell and the sight of the shadows and the pirate who had taken her in his embrace brought another flush to her face. The sea breeze slowly pulled at the colour, cooling her skin, though the memory kept bringing the heat of the fire back in waves. Sea breeze and fire warred for control.

Squirrel's first coherent thought burst hoarsely from her lips before she'd even had time to consider it. "Stupid!"

The word suited the situation perfectly. She'd spent night after night after night standing outside his door, trying and failing to work up the courage to speak to him. Every night had ended in tears, tears and an aching heart. His embrace was one scenario she'd wished for, dreamt of, wanted desperately, but never thought would ever be. Yet here, today, in the warm light of the sun, she'd stepped into his cabin and been wrapped in his embrace, even if it had only been for… what, all of three minutes? And she was the one who'd turned away. He was even going to kiss her, for crying out loud!

If he'd kissed me, I never would have been able to stop.

"Stupid," she sighed, sobered by the thought. Resting her head in one hand, she gathered her scattered thoughts with that one word. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Are you referring to Jack Sparrow?"

Squirrel looked up, still reeling, still blushing. Elizabeth was watching her curiously, a look of concern on her face.

"What?" Squirrel asked, frowning, too lost in her thoughts to be articulate.

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth asked, worried. "You look upset."

Squirrel had no idea what her face was doing. She brushed her cheek with her fingers - the spot where Jack had kissed her still retained the imprint of his lips, surely - and found a tear rolling down her face. Alarmed - not to mention confused as to the reason she was crying - Squirrel brushed it away.

"Nothing," she said, smiling at Elizabeth, though the smile came out lopsided and uncertain. "I'm fine."

Elizabeth tilted her head, her eyes lidded in a concerned frown. "Are you sure?"

Squirrel nodded, smiling. "Yes, I'm fine." She spread her hand across the wood, and felt herself slowly find the ground again. Soon, the only rocking would be the Pearl's motion through the waves: a predictable and comforting movement. But the deck was solid beneath her. Solid, dependable, and honest. Squirrel was glad for it.

'Stupid'. Had she been talking about Jack? Surely she'd been talking about herself. 'Stupid' worked for both of them, come to think of it. Squirrel brushed her hair back, her fingers tracing the unfamiliar shape of the hoops in her ears, and smiled distantly, lost in the memory once again.

Elizabeth was still watching her. Embarrassed, Squirrel dropped her hand. "Can I help you, Miss Swann?"

The young woman smiled somewhat, opened her mouth to speak, then was lost in a frown. "I…" She sighed, lost in her own memories. "I was just… I can't help but wonder if Will is alright."

That was a cold dash of water. Though fire still coursed through Squirrel's veins, it was dulled back down to the embers which had burned since the days of Tortuga. The embers still burned, but now she could think on other things without distraction.

"Here," Squirrel straightened, coming away from the wall on which she was leaning. She indicated the steps, "Sit down." The two women sat down together, eye to eye. "When I met him," Squirrel said slowly, determined to be as honest with Elizabeth as she could, "He - Will - was determined beyond anything I'd ever seen before. Determined to get that compass. Determined to bring it back. Determined to save you."

Elizabeth leant forward, drinking up every word. Her eyes were liquid.

"He'd crossed the ocean looking for us," Squirrel said, knowing how much a woman loves to hear about her beloved. How a woman's love can live on stories alone. "He found us on a cannibal island, and was captured along with the rest of us." Elizabeth's hand flew to a mouth opening in a horrified 'o', wanting to ask but daring not to interrupt. Slowly, Squirrel told Elizabeth everything that had transpired; at least, everything that she could without lying or hiding the truth. She told of the cages made from human bones, how it had been Will's idea to swing them in order to reach the cliff face. How Tia had recognised Will had a 'touch of destiny' about him. How Will had been willing to cross - alone - to the Flying Dutchman in order to find the key.

"But we were deceived," Squirrel said, saddened. "That wreck wasn't the Dutchman. And Will was captured, and Davy Jones captured him."

Elizabeth looked pained, but bravely kept her chin up. "And Will… is he…?"

Squirrel sighed. "Miss Swann…"

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," Squirrel amended, smiling in a way she hoped would comfort the young woman, "I doubt - I sincerely doubt - that Will's come to any harm." Squirrel closed her eyes for a moment. "He's dedicated to finding and saving you. He won't stay caged for long. If there's some way for Will to get back to you, he will." Squirrel looked at Elizabeth, and smiled. "He loves you. He'd do anything for you. Anything."

"He's my hero," Elizabeth said, smiling faintly, her eyes strangely distant.

Squirrel nodded. "A knight in shining armour, in an age when such men are few and far between."

Elizabeth didn't react - she merely stared off into the distance with burdened and troubled eyes. Squirrel did the same, wondering where the comparison had come from. She'd adopted Elizabeth's accent and manner of speaking in order to relate better to her. Perhaps this was the reason she felt a sudden pain in her gut at the thought of Will in danger. Perhaps this was why she found herself thinking this way.

But then… Will's honour and devotion had struck a chord in Squirrel. She felt her eyes turn somewhat green when she looked at the young woman sitting beside her - Elizabeth was so lucky to have a man who loved her more than life itself. But… Was she jealous? Foolish. Foolish! Yet, compared to the men Squirrel knew, Will was beyond comparison. Like a knight from a tale of romance. He was a man like nothing she'd ever known.

But Will loves Elizabeth, she reminded herself. And Elizabeth loves Will. I'm not going to act like a jealous trollop and try to 'steal her man'. Elizabeth and Will deserve their happiness together. Besides, I have one of your own, remember? Squirrel smiled, blushing again at the memory of the kiss that Jack had given her. That's the reason I'm thinking like this. I'm confusing Jack and Will. But it's not like they're anything similar… it's just because we girls each have our own love. Our own true love. I'm confusing the man I love with the man she loves. That's all.

Finally, Elizabeth rose out of her musings and sighed, giving Squirrel a small smile. "Thankyou," she said in hushed and distant tones, "Thankyou for telling me."

Squirrel smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I can't give you any more."

Elizabeth's only reply was a slight nod before she returned her stare out off into the distance, and slid somewhat lower across the steps where she was draped. Squirrel rose to her feet and moved to the prow, to watch the approaching horizon. Both women were lost in memories and thoughts. If thoughts were the weather, Squirrel's were today's sunny and clear skies, while Elizabeth's were the rough and rainy storm from last night.

But neither woman knew the contents of the other's thoughts. They were too lost in their own.