Prologue
The rain was pouring, less a gentle pitter-pat on the windows and more a furious thud-thud-thud of fat raindrops. The wind howled.
It was still only afternoon, and on any other day the sun would be blisteringly hot at this time. You wouldn't be able to tell it now, what with the sky shaded dark as if it was already night.
It was the perfect weather to not do homework in.
Quinn glared at the economics on her table. How about one does NOT explain the concepts behind interest rate monetary policy?
Fuck, but the class test is tomorrow.
She was going to fail it, and fail it bad. Dammit.
And next week was the other class test with the case study questions. Some people claimed CSQs were easier than essays, and they were "ez marks". Quinn was not some people.
Kill me now ;; – Quinnyneeds$$
You mean you haven't had the test yet? Lucky. – sushilasagne
It's not too bad, I feel – fishhead Remora
Yes it actually is. U just t00 g00d – sushilasagne
me guys what do I need to study ;_; – Quinnyneeds$$
There was brief pause, then fishhead Remora began typing.
Quinn set her phone down and stared very hard at the wisdom soon-to-be unleashed by her friend.
If she can't conveniently die from being smote by lightning before the test, then she'll try to cram. A little bit, at least.
Lightning please. She'd like to not do the whole graduating exams shtick at the end of this year.
The windows burst open outwards with a screech. Quinn startled badly, swearing as she leapt up.
"What the fff–s?" She demanded, as rain soaked through her books and materials she'd left lying on the low shelf before the window.
Her arms, front, face, and spectacles became dripping wet in short order as she reached out to close the window.
Oh god, her poor schoolbag.
The wind fought against her, pulling the windows out when she was trying her damnedest to get a good grip and shut them in.
"Stop betraying me!" Quinn hissed at the glass. "Get closed!"
Then the world became white with a deafening explosion.
She was drifting, drifting, drifting. It was bright all around her—bright but not blindingly so, and warm. Warm was good. Wet was plain nasty.
Do you feel as if there is something lacking in your life?
The voice came from somewhere all around, and it sounded like many people speaking at once, old and young, male and female. The question commanded a response.
Yes.
Gods, Quinn hoped that her life would not be an endless series of education from different sources for that diploma, bachelor, master, phD, second phD, and whatever phD holders do when they're old and grey. She wants adventure! Some spice in her life! Dragons! She really wants a dragon. Or even a pegasus. Anything.
If you are asked to risk your life, to fight and defend and die, against foes more ancient and greater than yourself, would you?
Well, if it was for a good* (* to be defined as the situation sees fit) cause, and her death would actually do something instead of being a faint whisper among the eventual eight/nine/ten billion deaths… and if her death was fast and on her own terms… Well, it was hardly as if she was going to amount to much in life anyway.
Yes?
Do you agree to partake in an adventure of a lifetime?
Yes, I do.
The light vanished.
She was falling, falling, falling.
Then she woke up with a gasp.
Her ceiling was gone. Her room was gone. Someone had decided to plant a forest around her.
What the fuck?
Quinn checked herself—not naked, not injured, and not without a horrendous crick in her back. She staggered up in her casual home clothes—a shirt given in some event that was too ugly to be worn out and capris that were a size too small to wear out shamelessly—and cracked her back.
What kind of forest was this? Where was she? And who was the voice(s)?
She'd read books and fanfics (which were just as legitimate as published books, mind you) about people-transplantations like this, and now excitement was warring with wtf-is-going-on nerves within her. Quinn bounced lightly on her toes, glad that the ground was dry and not of squelching mud.
Where was she and how could she make sure that she bumps into the good guys?
Quinn squinted up at the sun, which was either in the east or in the west right now, before or after noon.
Yeah, no, that's not going to help.
Her decision to pick a direction and start walking was interrupted by hoofbeats.
Quinn spun around, trying to find the direction the horse was coming from. Her pulse picked up, and she looked around uselessly for somewhere to hide. There were only trees, and she didn't want to get splinters in her feet when she inevitably failed to climb them. These were also useless hiding trees, without the large roots of rain-trees she could lie between.
There's only one thing for it.
Quinn faced the direction where the hoofbeats were loudest, and took a deep shaky breath to try and calm her racing heart. It's the good guys it's the good guys it's the good guys please–