Pass the Plot # 1, Scene 1

From Tori...

No special rules for this Pass the Plot. My fellow Tri Mu s can take the story in whatever direction they see fit. Hopefully, I don't kill this one before it begins.

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The wind rustled the Spanish moss that hung from the cypress trees surrounding Rhea-Anne’s flat bottom boat. It cut between the trees and right through the thick leather of her jacket. She shivered as the cold air sliced into her skin. It hadn’t been so bad at dusk when she’d rowed to the middle of the swamp, but with each passing hour she grew colder and colder . If she had to stay here until dawn, she would be an ice sculpture.

She jumped a foot at the sound of splashing in the distance. The boat rocked and teetered nearly tipping her into the chilled water of the swamp. “Maybe it was just an alligator.” Rhea-Anne reassured herself aloud. Her hand gripped the locket that hung around her neck. The cold metal of the heirloom bit into her hand.
“Oh Grammy. You never told me that I would be this frightened.” She muttered the words under her breath. The sounds of night surrounded her. Chirping crickets. Croaking frogs. Lapping water. Hooting Owls. She started at every noise. “I just wish he would hurry and show up already. It’s the third moon of the fortieth year.”
Her eyes strained as she searched the darkness for any tell-tell movement. Grammy had told her not to worry that he would find her, but that didn’t stop her from looking. She loosened her grip on the locket and began running her thumb over the clasp. The locket was to be her identification when he found her. She didn’t want to lose it. She inhaled, taking air deep into her lungs before exhaling just as deeply. She needed to calm down. She concentrated on breathing In and out. In and out.

“Rhea-Anne Baker, I presume.” A voice hissed in her ear.

“Eek” Rhea-Anne flinched away from the sound of the voice. “Yes.” Her voice wavered a little. She swallowed the lump that had lodged into her throat. Her voice was firmer when she spoke this time. “Yes, I’m Rhea-Anne Baker. Here’s the Brantley locket” She moved her hand away from the locket so that it could be seen
A claw scraped down the side of her neck before lifting the chain so that he could get a better view. She felt the dry scrape of reptilian scales against her collarbone. She fought the urge to shudder.

The locket fell back onto her neck when he released the chain. The boat rocked a bit as he stepped away before steadying. “Rhea-Anne. You may call me Lucas.”