The wind whipped the cold water of the Channel. The foam was clinging to the ship as if it was the remnant of the souls of those who had drowned there across the centuries. On the deck, Anna was watching the fog. The drops of saline water splashing now and then, didn't undermine her quiet state. Sometimes the sailors would glance at her, probably wondering what she was thinking or marveling at the alabaster of her face and the pale blue of her eyes under those long black lashes.