“Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me…”
Signing on to sail the seven seas had had no such siren’s call. Neither had it been the Queen’s shilling slipped into her flagon of ale, nor the cosh, bind and drag of the press-gang. It had been stranger than that. Twelve moons past, she frowned at the memory, had it been twelve moons, or twenty four? Elora span the novelty globe slowly, not wanting to disturb the bottles hidden within.