I think it was you reading it, but it might have been me.(?)

Theres a LOT more.  I've made it so that all the things that people say are off and that it's just the story.

********* Sydney gazed longingly out over the rolling green hills and the wide blue sea.  There was a slight breeze coming off the ocean, ruffling her hair.  It was the dead of summer, and the wildflowers were in bloom, their heavy sent perfuming the air.  The sky was a lovely shade of pale blue, and not a cloud lingered in it's vast expance.  It was the most beutiful day she could ever have wished for.
And yet something was wrong.  The breeze was too gentle,the wildflowers too lovely, the sky too blue.  It was as if something was missing from her...as if someone had dropped her, and she had shatterd,and been glued back together, except for a small shard that lay hidden in the grass.  Above her a sparrow called, it's soft cry awakening Sydney from her reverie.  Sydney looked up at the bird, it's delicate feet curved around the young sapling.  It was so gentle, so innocent.  As if a single breath could knock it over.  A terrible vision of it crumpling in the grass, so it's call would be heard no more, flashed throuh the turmoil in her mind.  And in a second, she understood.  She was the sparrow...and it was her.
Sydney shakily got too her feet, head spinning, and turned away from the tiny brown sparrow.  She didn't want to see it.  Everything was too good too be true.  The sparrow was too sad, too fragile, too be alive. 
She set out on a run in the direction of her cottage, her home.  It was a timely hut on the cliffside, the place she had lived in for thirteen small years.  The cottage and it's white washed walls had been here long before her, had seen many a day go by, many a winter pass.  But know as she looked upon it, it seemed small and grubby, like a gust of wind would someday send it toppling into the sea.
Pushing the thought away, she took a deep breath and stared over the endless blue water.  And suddenly it looked monsterously large, like a gapeing hole opening up beneath her, waiting to swallow her up... no! what was the matter with her?  She had never felt this way before.
That was when she heard it.  A small cry, barely audible over the rouring of the waves.    If she hadn't been listening closely, she would not have given it a second thought, let alone hear it.  Straining her ears, she heard a soft mewing coming from a patch of thick grass.  Sydney gently bent over it and brushed away the grass to reveal . . .
A kitten, soft and white, wailing pitifully, with a piece of paper tied around her neck. The kitten's legs cycled helplessly in the tangled sea grass. Gently Sydney reached out to it, extracting the string from around it's neck. The note was smashed up, it's ink blurred. It was undistinguishable. Sydney stuffed it into her pocket, and reached out to pick up the kitten. The white ball of fur swatted at her with tiny pinprick claws, and mewed for help, the kitten's blue eyes wide with the terror of a baby alone in the world. Sydney pulled off her green wool sweater, wrapping it gently around the kitten, who trembled silently in the sudden darkness of the wrappings. Cradling the precious bundle gently, Sydney once again started over the fields of waving wheat and grass, the call of the ocean not as terrifying now as it had been. The beat of the tiny creature's heart kept the evil out of Sydney's mind.

Eventually, the hut rose before her, threadbare and simple. She carefully set her burden down on the table, relieved to hear a mew meaning the kitten was alive. She glanced out the dusty window to where her aunt and uncle's manor sat, proud and haughty on the hill. The sun coming off the white walls blinded her, and tears blurred her vision. Ever since her mother and father had died at sea, their ship spiraling into the depths, she had been forced to live with her aunt and uncle, rich merchants of the Irish coast. They looked down upon their sister, Sydney's mother, and scorned Sydney. As far as they were concerned, she didn't exist. A small call jerked her back to attention. With a cry of surprise and fear, she fell back on her knees. The sparrow lay, crumpled, nearly stilled, next to the threshold. The Sparrow was the missing piece, the most innecent, And there it lay, down in the soft grass, motionless.  And then suddenly, Sydney saw her life pass in front of her, all the times when her mother, Mechell, tucked her in to go to sleep, and when her father, River, with his blue eyes just like hers, played with her in that very same place, the place where the wildflowers were too lovely, too fragrant for her to bear, the grass so green she got blinded from it, the sky so blue that she thought it the sea, oh, she missed her parents so much, she hadn't seen them sence they died.  She had to live with her Aunt and Uncle.

. As she was sitting there, at peace with the world, all within her was calm. Then, a sharp voice cut through the air like a knife. "Sydney! Get back here! Don't you have chores to do?"

She knew that if she didn't finish her chores, she wouldn't get dinner. "I'm coming" she got up and ran as fast as she could to get the bucket for the cow, with her weatherstained cloak flying behind her.  just as she finished all of her chores, she was going to go to her little cottage, by the cliffside to fead the kitten.  But it was too late, her aunt had called her to dinner two minutes ago. 

she wondered what she would have for dinner this time, well her aunt and uncle ate rich foods.  maybe she might have, something good that she liked.

She was suddenly pulled from her thoughts when, the cook Rebecka, a nice, plump woman, called her in cheerfully. come help me cook some of this lasaunya, for your aunt and uncle.  What am I haveing for dinner Rebecka? gruel?   no your going to eat with your aunt and uncle tonight, Sydney.  Rebeka paused on the neatly swept steps leading to the front door. She turned around, brushing off her apron, the crumbs from numerous apple and mincemeat pies scattering in the brush.

"Now, darlin'." She reached out and patted Sydney's cheek. "Make sure you have good manners before the master and his wife. My lord, he's good at punishing people if they don't turn out nice. Oh, here. You better give me your cape and apron. My my, when did you last wash these?"  Sydney nervously untied her apron and cape, then patted her unruly hair, tucked tight underneath her cap. "Well now, I guess i'd better go back to the kitchen. You scurry along, darlin'." The chubby woman bustled out of sight, and Sydney took a deep breath. The polished windows sparkled, like the gleam in a demon's eyes. As she passed through the oak door, she couldn't help but feel as though she had just been swallowed alive.

.As Sydney entered the cool depths of her uncle's manor she wished that she was back at her little hut to take care of the little orphan kitten.  She desperately wished she was not crossing the rough stone floor and she dreaded sitting down to a table with her cruel aunt and uncle. Cautiosly, Sydney poked her head into the cavernous dining room.  Quickly scanning the room she saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would suggest why she had been asked, no demanded, to have dinner with her caretakers.

"Well come in girl stop, skulking around!"  The shrill voice of Sydney's aunt pierced the gloom.  Sighing, Sydney walked to her chair and slid onto the hard wood.  Her aunt and uncle were eating, not taking any notice of her.  Reaching for the large tureen of stew in front of her, Sydney ladled out a generous serving for herself and began to eat.  For a long peroid of time all that could be heard was the slurping of stew.  Then, Sydney's uncle, whose name was Robert (though she called him Squint), dried his mouth on his napkin and addressed her.

"Sydney, my wife tells me that you have not been paying attention to your work lately." Then Squint said, "No, no objections.  And this is bad not only because we expect you to work and by slacking you are disobying us, but also because laziness is not a good quality in a wife."

"What?" Sydney gasped. "You've given my hand in marriage without my consent? "

"No consent was needed," Sydney's aunt piped up. "He is a very nice gentlemen by the name of Rothington."

"By nice do you mean rich?" asked Sydney disgustedly.

"Well, of course" said the Squint.

And of course a fight followed soon afterward.  It ended in the wee hours of the morning when Sydney's aunt, tired from the shouting match ordered Sydney, "Leave at once you ungrateful girl!"

Well I will leave, thought Sydney. I will run away; that will show them to arrange a marriage for me.
When they got to her room, a very small opening in the wall, with a straw bed, a few candles, a little book, and all what she posessed. 

She thought about what she could pack, her warmest cloak, her only two dresses, her green wool sweater, toughest shoes, her reed comb that she made her self, and her two most preciouse things, her fathers penknife that could cut through any thing, her mothers beutiful lock of golden hair that she gave her before she left on that dreadful ship.       

Sydney's eyes filled with tears, she knew that she had golden hair like her mother, blue eyes like her father, big and beutiful, like a pebble that got shaped by the water.  Sydney cried herself to sleep thinking of the happy times, when she lived with her mother and father, and wondering what the next day will bring.

Sydney woke up, it was almost dawn, she had to get away now, to feed the kitten she forgot all about it last night. 

When she got in  the hut, she brought some food to the kitten, he ate it up fast, as not to let any one else have any, Sydney laughed, that laugh went through to the kitten and when that kitten heard it, it suddenly turned into her mother and father, Sydney stepped back in fear,  "don't be afraid" said her father,we are spirits to come and give you a message, "What's the message?" said Sydney.  it is...Sydney suddenly sat up in her bed, it was a dream, she thought, what were they trying to tell me?  What did it mean?  Sydney's aunt called and said "Sydney get in here I would like you to meet your future husband, Here? Already? She rose from her bed and dressed in the early morning light. She hurried to the house. At the end of the winding country path that led to it was a black carriage, with two horses tehered to it, their heads yanked high up by the coachman. With dread she reached  the house. As she neared the door she heard her Aunt's voice.  "I'm sorry, Sir Rothington, she really is a slothful girl. Sydneeeeey!"  In the parlor was a distinguished and stuffy looking man probably in his mid thirties. "I'm sure I can manage her, Nel," he said with disdain. "Sydney, meet Sir Rothington, an old family friend." She could never, ever, ever marry him! She thought quickly. Maybe, if she could offend him, he'd go away, and never come again. "No!  Never! I won't marry an ancient lump like that if my life depended on it!" As the ancient lump's face turned red, Sydney reflected that she's already lost today's meals. Now what? .While Sydney was bemoaning her loss of lunch, in a faraway land just a few miles away other things were taking place- so similar to the events at Roberto Manor and yet a world away.

"Lucee, meet your future husband!" beamed Auntie Maye. "Isn't he a CHARMER!"

A young, dark-haired man with olive skin looked at femine, bouncy Lucee from under raised eyebrows. "I am Renardo," he said with a slow, rich, Latin accent. "Hello."

Lucee's mouth fell open anmd she began whining the way she always had. "BUT HE'S SO MOOOOPEY! AND UUUUUGGGGLEEEE! AND FORRRREIGNNNN! PLEEEEEASE DON'T MAKE ME MAAAAAARRRRRY HIM, AUNTIE MAAAAAAAYE!"

Renardo half-listened with considerable uninterest. What a dull child. She couldn't be more than fifteen. And couldn't be more dismal. Her jewel-dripping clothes and long, lucious, golden tresses couldn't conceal the illiterate, uneducated, childish, pampered, molly-coddled little "princess" inside. Not his type of girl.

Merciful Heavens he thought. Spare me from the wrath of this witch's daughter before me. By what spirit's ill judgment was I brought into the presence of that dreadful ship captain's daughter? Was I not rid of her? At least she doesn't want to marry me!  Auntie Maye I am NOT going to marry that fool!  Fool? No, you're the fool, princess.  Lucee walked out of the room and tripped on her glimmering dress.  Clumsy.  "Auntie Maye, I am not going to marry him; if you make me then I will run away," she said in a whiney foolish voice.  Run away. Good idea, princess.

"Roberto I'll show you to your room," called Auntie Maye.  "Okay." With the sound of footsteps he asked, "Why doesn't Lucee want to marry me?"  "Well she doesn't want to marry you because you're ugly."  "I don't think I am ugly," said Roberto in his smooth calm voice.  "Well she does, she cares about looks a lot," she said as they got to his room.

The room was medium-sized with a big mirror on one wall to make it look large, with striped wallpaper the color of the sea.  His bed had creme-colored sheets and a green blanket the color of seaweed.  Like the sand with seaweed growing on it.  Oh, he missed his friend the sea, so big and blue, you could see your reflection in it, like that mirror.  There was one desk, and a wardrobe with his bags piled up on it.

Let's think of a plan to get back to the sea.  I'll just have to slip out the kitchen, and then there's the road. I think the kitchen is not far away.  I have to pack light.  I'll pack my warmest things and all my money.  I'll pack it now.  I'll leave a note saying that if Lucee does not want to marry me she doesn't have to, because I do not even want to marry her.

Robeto ran as fast as he could away from that dreadful mansion.  Just three miles and I'll be to the ocean.

That was a dreadful dinner thought Sydney, as she fed the little kitten.  She saw a little thing in the distance getting bigger and bigger. I wonder what that is, girl. Maybe it's someone that's coming to take me away.  But little as she knew it was.  As the thing got closer and closer she noticed that it looked like a boy.  Before she knew it, it came running into her little cottage.  "Who's there?' she said in a shaky voice.  "I am not going to hurt you, I am just coming here to rest. I ran three miles without stopping."   Three miles? three miles?  You can come in here and have a rest for the night but when you wake up I am not going to be here."  "Why not?" said Roberto,  "because my aunt is trying to make me marry someone that's an ancient lump."  "Someone's trying to make me marry someon, too, so I am running away."  "I am running away, too" said Sydney. "Maybe we can run away together! "Okay," said Roberto.

As they "ran"- well, they walked, now that they were out of danger--Renardo told Sydney his story. She loved his rich, deep voice.

"I was born in Italia, far away from here," he said, his voice carrying her away to a poor Italiaian ((not Italian, it's pronounced it-al-yuh-lay-in)) village, to a small, cramped cabin where an impoverished woman lay on a bed, holding a tiny baby, surrounded by midwives and her daughter, fifteen-year-old Retalialea. "Saints!" she cried desperately. "Take me from this world that I may not gaze upon this God-smited face a day more! By minotaurs and monkeys, this child shall live an unlucky, unhappy existence, never finding love... and when at last he has it shall be swiped away from him like a fish from the water!" And with a sudden burst of energy, she let out a shrill scream, cried out, "This infant is CURSED!" and breathed her last.

The baby was raised by one of the midwives, a young woman with two small children. She became as a mother to him and called him Renardo, after the feast day of the saint he was born upon. Life seemed fair to the lass, Gael, her four children. Renardo, Retalilea, Gaspetto, and Sindi, and her strong and able husband, Marvin.

But one morning, it became known that Marvin and Renardo's (biological) older sister had run away together, leaving Gael and her children to fend for themselves. A few years later, after being evicted, the good-hearted, wonderful, loving mother died.

Eight-year-old Gaspetto loved five-year-old Sindi and three-year-old Renardo, but as a young boy he was unable to take care of them. He hired himself out as a stable boy, gave his younger siblings to other families to be cared for, and visited them as often as he could.

But Renardo had been given to a miserly, angry old man whose wife had died and daughter ran away out of fear of her father. He was sold into slavery and bought by the Duke of Kensington at age nine. Renardo had traveled oceans and forests and seen more of the world in six years than most people did in a lifetime. The Duke was kind to him and soon adopted him as a son. He lived in prosperity until age seventeen, when most gentlemen marry.

This was not good for Renardo, cursed from birth. He had no luck finding a wife and the strain eventually killed his surrogate father. Renardo was convinced that the Duke's death was his fault and had lived with the guilt--and the title he inherited--ever since.

"Oh!" said Sydney. "So you're nearly royalty!"

He smiled wanly. "And that's why my advisor sent me to Lucee." He told the story of the pampered child he was expected to marry and gave a vexed laugh. "And now I'm here!"

"Yes," said Sydney happily, her hand brushing his. "Now you're here."

But Renardo hadn't told this strange girl one thing. He hadn't confided in her about the awful, horrible ship and the connection that Lucee had to its captain. He had lied about the exact nature of the Duke's death, as well. That had taken place on the ship, as well... but he had not lied about the guilt, the gnawing knowledge that it as his fault.

*********

sorry I didn't have who did what on there.  I just have it on a folder to keep track.