In the distance, the wreck of the Legacy glowed brightly. If one could block out the screams of those being burnt alive and the groans of a great galleon breaking into flotsam, the scene could almost be described as beautiful.

How small and precious it seemed from a distance, like a little flickering light against a canvas of churning black waves.

Sunfire, and slave children that were with her, wept as they looked on at the horror of the burning ship. Everyone they knew was on it.

In her arms, she held her child. Everything she had desired, she had accomplished. She was alive, her son was alive. She should've been happy.

But all she could think when looking at the fire, was that the man who saved her had hair in a similar shade. She blamed herself for not even asking his name. Like so many tonight, he would be lost to the sea, nameless but not forgotten.

Never forgotten

She and the rest of the children huddled together and cried themselves to sleep.

Nothingness.

That's what greeted Sunfire and the slave children when they awoke. A whole ocean of nothingness. Not even a single piece of driftwood. No sounds, nor smell, nor vision of what happened the night before remained.

"Let's go back. There's space on this boat. See?"

A girl, a small and frail little thing, shouted with wet eyes. She tried to squeeze herself next to her companions, in an attempt to make space. Yet space there was not. She was jostled back into place by the sullen youth next to her.

"Why did Elder choose you to come with us? My brother was stronger, he was smarter -"

The sullen youth poked the girl's shoulder, harshly, with his finger.

"- and he wouldn't cry."

The girl started wailing. Soon the rest of the children joined in.

Sunfire suckled her baby with one hand, and comforted a child sitting next to her with her other. She was the only adult here, but she was at a loss of what to do.

The ones who weren't crying looked towards her for guidance. 'Tell us what to do, tell us how we are going to fix this,' was what their eyes said.

She couldn't find the words. She didn't think there were any words that could be found that would save these orphans from their grief.

But perhaps grief can be distracted, maybe even channeled.

She gestured for one the supply crates to be opened. They then distributed the ship biscuits and the sour milk. An enterprising young lad had made a slit into the top of the keg the night before, now all they had to do was to tilt it and open their mouths. The cries became dry sobs, then disappeared entirely.

As the children finished their meal, Sunfire mused upon her predicament. For once in her life, there were people depending on her, people who didn't desire her body. Well, her baby wanted her breast, but that's another kind of want.

She was a mother not two days past, and try as she may, she couldn't suddenly be this dependable, wise, maternal figure that the rest of the children was hoping her to be.

So she didn't, she simply told them what was on her mind.

"The tall and strong man, the one with the fire red hair, what was his name?"

The children looked at one another. One spoke out, "He's from my village! He's uhh... I don't know his real name, but we all called him Tiger."

Sunfire began to carve the letters for 'Tiger' onto the top of the crate in front of her. She then carved her own name after that.

"Take this knife, and write your names on this. Then write the names of your older brothers, your older sisters. Write the names of your fathers and your mothers and aunties and uncles. Write the name of everyone who was on the ship, so that none of us will forget them."

"Do you think they are still alive?", the small girl from earlier cried out, her voice seemed smaller.

"I don't know"

"Then we should go back!"

"I don't know which way back is."

There was never any hope, but with that one line, Sunfire had silenced all of them. A hush descended upon the boat, occasionally interrupted by the buffeting gales of the ocean. That hush signaled a tacit acceptance - what they lost, they would not get back.

The children on the boat silently carved their names and the names of the people they knew onto the crate. When one side was filled, they moved on to another.

Tears welled up occasionally, when they were carving the names of those closest to them. But they were fervent in their labor and never stopped save for food and the dark of night.

It took them five days to carve them all.

~~Edward~~

So here I am, in the middle of the ocean. With my mother and 19 other brats. Are we lost? I think we are lost. The most action the oars have seen is when they were used to pry open the crates.

At least this is a damn sight better than being drowned in dirty bathwater. And hey, I don't even have to eat... whatever my shipmates are eating. What is that, anyways, its looks more like the crate it came in than actual food. I think some of the kids actually envy me.

Well, considering that I still have a mom, that isn't surprising. Heh.

Now before you groan, remember I died once before, okay? It was painful and horrifying, and being dead means you lose your family. In the reverse way.

Whatever, I'm a fucking baby, it's not like I can talk or anything, so who gives a shit.

I think the reason why I'm feeling so ornery is that I can't do a damn thing. I can't stand, I can't crawl, and in the boat I can't even roll around. I guess that's why babies are crying all the bloody time.

But I hate crying, and its not because I think crying is weak or anything like that; its just that I don't think needing to take a shit warrants me breaking out a wail, just so mommy dearest can wipe my arse. By the way, the feeling of shitting your pants/loincloth/diaper, I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

So I'm proud to say, My mom and I, we worked out our very own system. I can't say words yet but I can blurb out things like 'mama', sometimes its 'baba', but you get the drift.

I catch her attention then grab her finger or the cloth that she's wearing and she tries to figure out what I want. The first few times were pretty rough but we pretty much got it down to a science. She would pick me up, smell me first, then put my mouth to her boob. Sometimes, she misses the smells - the salt of the ocean and the stench from the rest of the kids can be too strong, so I just turn my face away and I don't know how else to say this - cheek my mother's breast.

Calling her mom, or more accurately, thinking of her as my mom also feels weird.

I already have... had a mom. What did the old guy say? That I'm an "approximation" ? How does one deal with that?

It's not like me know that I'm not actually Edward suddenly makes those memories irrelevant. I miss my mom, my real mom.

I miss her long and windy texts with atrocious spelling. I miss the overcooked rice that she always makes. I miss that she calls me 'Ah boy' even when I'm a grown ass man.

I'm never going to see any of my past life again, aren't I? My old apartment, my old company, my old P.C. All gone.

You are all I have, new mom. I guess I'm all you have too. So let's make a deal, I'm going to do my best to love you like my old mom. Will you not love me like she did?

On the night the third week, Sunfire woke suddenly. This time, it was not her child needing food or change, it was a deep, shrieking howl of a sharp wind ahead of them. With only the a cresent moonlight to guide her eyes, Sunfire was struggling to see what she was hearing.

A storm.

Then a flash of light illuminated the whole sky and broke upon the waves like a thousand tiny shining jewels. The storm was ahead of time. Sunfire counted the seconds to the inevitable thunder that was coming.

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

A bellow not unlike the low growling of giant tiger resounded through the entire boat, shaking the very bones of those within.

"CHILDREN! WAKE UP-"

Sunfire hastily ran towards each child, those who were still asleep were shook violently awake.

They had some time yet. She quickly scrounged for whatever rope she could find, even ripping some of the children's clothes, then she bound all of them together. But twenty was far too many, their rope too little, and the storm closing in too fast.

When a second flash bore witness to the size of the tempest in front of them, all the children joined in in the tying.

"Whatever is empty, throw it out!"

A rogue wave hit them then, it was larger than the Legacy itself.

"HOLD ON TO EACH OTHER!" Sunfire voice fought with the screams of the wind. For a moment the boat was lurched upwards and turned till it stood vertical on its end. All of them crashed into a heap at its 'bottom'.

Then the vessel dropped.

And the might of the storm hit them.

Water flooded the ship. Sunfire was thrown like rag-doll, and hit the back of her head against the inner hull. A sharp pain blacked out her vision, and she lost her grip. It was but for an instant.

Where is my son?

In the chaos, Edward had been flung out of the boat. He floated, but his head kept going under the water, and with each passing second, he was drifting further away.

Sunfire instinctively stood up, trying to prepare to swim to her child, but her leg was caught beneath a crate that has rolled over. Utter panic overcame her.

She wanted to scream her son's name, but she had not named him yet. So she just screamed. It was then that one of the older children, jumped into the churning waves.

The rain and the salt stung her eyes yet she forced them open to see. She saw nothing but the storm.

Oh please oh please oh please.

Then one head, and then two, rose beneath the waters.

That child had done it!

As he swam backwards towards the boat, with Edward in both his arms, Sunfire secretly thanked the gods. She looked around, the storm was still raging, but it seemed a little quieter now. Somehow, in all that madness, everyone else remained in the ship. Their supplies were not lucky.

Only one crate of hardtack and a barrel half filled with sour milk remained.

After what seemed like an eternity, the storm finally passed. The children never did let go, their knuckles white from the exertion.

Sunfire recalled the name of her son's savior - Oromia, and made a secret promise to repay him someday.

When dawn broke, the twenty passengers of the Legacy's whaleboat bore witness to their first sightings of seabirds on the horizon. The color of the waters had grown lighter, from a deep dark blue to a more clearer turquoise. They were all still exhausted from the storm last night, but they somehow found the strength to look. It was a strength borne of hope.

The shore must be close!

A nervous energy spread through the little vessel. As it bobbed up and down with waves, all twenty of them strained their eyes in all directions for signs of land.

What they spotted instead was a schooner, bearing the unmistakable colors of their previous ship - a golden lion awash a crimson shield. The colors of House Ney.

The colors of their previous captor.