Frostfire
AN: Hey guys! I'm back, with my infamously famous or famously infamous Ride sisters. This, actually, isn't an Alexafic. It's a Rebeccafic. First one. Fun to write. Not done with it yet, 'cause I'll never learn.
Anyway, this is dedicated to Becca, the original Rebecca Ride, my loyal fan, follower, and friend, through all my insanity and bad jokes.
Wish me luck! I'll need it.
Chapter One: The Difference Between Running For Your Life and Power-Walking
I've always had a bit of a flare for the dramatic.
Of course, in this situation, I have every right to be dramatic.
Sort of. Okay, maybe not.
I should introduce myself. Shouldn't I? I'm a bit new at this, since it seems like Alex is the only one who gets to have interesting stuff happen to her. Yeah, I know. It's hard to understand. I'm not Alex. I'm her little sister.
I'm Becca.
How do you do? Nice to meet you. That rhymed. Sorry. Random train of thought.
Anyway, now that I've introduced myself, I should probably tell my story. As you now know, I'm Becca Ride, little sister of Alex Ride, and fellow Lady Knight. A few weeks ago, I ended up running for my life. Another rhyme? I think I need therapy.
This isn't something new to me. Well, this is something new to me. Writing a story, I mean. The running-for-my-life thing isn't new to me. Believe me. I am a liar.
Most people have a twisted sense of what "running for your life" actually means. They think that you can just stroll along, moving to new places to keep away from your would-be captors, buying ice cream and getting to know the neighbors, and then leaving in the middle of the night.
Those people are idiots.
That is being a fugitive. That is not running for your life. Heck, that isn't even power-walking.
Running for your life is just that: running for your life.
You know, I've noticed something funny about life and death situations. They're often not life and death situations. They're life or death situations. Trust me, there's a big difference.
This situation was a life or death situation.
For some reason, probably fate, probably not, we Ride women tend to do a lot of running through forests, being chased by people. It gets old. It really does.
I'm not pondering this as I run in between trees, ducking under branches and leaping over logs that just so happen to be in my way. Apparently, not all of the Trees are over the White Witch. I can hear the thud of noisy footsteps and crashing as underbrush is destroyed by the feet of things that I don't even want to think about. I can also hear loud yells and heavily accented swearing. I tuck away some of the words that I haven't heard before to use later. It's always good to have an extensive vocabulary.
I swerve to avoid falling off a cliff and scramble up a Tree. I know this Tree. It's Lionel's. I hope she won't mind.
I wait, hardly daring to breathe, as my pursuers slow and scratch their big, ugly heads, wondering where I'd gone.
But before I tell this story, maybe I should go back a bit.