Chapter 33The storms roiled, and Little Red hunched down lower. She crouched beneath a pine tree, its hard roots an uncomfortable seat. Wavering in the snapping wind, the great branches offered little shelter. Pyrrha hugged her knees. Perhaps if she made herself as small as possible, the winds would leave her alone. Her feet squelched in the mud.
For the hundredth time her gaze flicked out toward the Middle Sea, only to find a wall of grey. Her eyes tried to pierce the rainy veil. Once Pyrrha thought that the rains were going to let up, and she had the briefest glimpse of the iron waters as she searched for red sails. But no, it was an illusion, a trick.
Pyrrha wiggled a tooth. It would come out soon. The rain had soaked through to her peplum. She shivered, wished her father had left her
