She has her sword, but little else; the flintlock pistols she'd been practicing with were left behind. Once or twice since finding herself unexpectedly returned to the shack, she's privately mourned the missed opportunity to pack her things.

"Sao Feng." Elizabeth tries out the name, not bothering to hide her pessimism. "I find it hard to believe he will simply hand them over unless we have something to offer in return."

Her eyes graze over Barbossa and returned to Will. They are slightly unfocused, like she's purposely trying not to concentrate on his expression.