Here's the new chapter folks! Thanks to all my reviewers, I appreciate the feedback. I'm still confused though as to how you can have like, 100 views, and only two reviews, but oh well!
Disclaimer: Not again! The same holds true from the last chapter! Me no ownie!
My head was leaned back against the planks of the crate, the movement of the wagon underneath me slowly lulling me into a drozy state. It was a good thing too, because I was miserable when fully awake. My stomach constantly hurt, as did my throat. My tongue was swollen to the point I knew I wouldn't be able to talk for a while if I did get out. When I moved, my limbs protested painfully from being cramped up this long. I knew I was at the edge, and there wasn't long now till I fell asleep and didn't wake up. I turned my attention to my brother as I started to drift off. I thought I had heard him cry out, which is what woke me up before I was captured. Did they have him too, or was it just my imagination? I had no way of knowing for sure...
Before I fell completely asleep, I sang softly under my breath one of the many songs my mother made sure to teach me before she died.
You are here, alone again
In your sweet insanity
All too calm, you hide yourself from reality
Do you call it solitude
Do you call it liberty
When all the world turns away to leave you lonely
The fields are filled with desire
All voices crying for freedom
But all in vain they will fade away
There's only you to answer you forever
In blinded mind you are singing
A glorious hallelujah
The distant flutter of angels
They're all too far, too far to reach for you
I am here, alone again
In my sweet serenity
Hoping you will ever find me in any place
I will call it solitude when all my songs fade in vain
Inside my voice, far away to eternity
The memory of my mother holding me as she sang calmed me deeply, sending me into a light sleep. I didn't feel the wagon stop, or the screams of the dying. The thing that woke me up was the sound of other crates around me being ripped open, and unfamiliar voices shouting to each other.
Forgetting where I was and my situation, I tried to scamper away from them, only to let out a hoarse cry as my entire body protested the movement. The talking near me stopped, and I heard a gentle knock on my crate. A voice said something to me, in the language everyone here seemed to speak.
"Who are you?" I tried to say, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. So instead, I just pounded on the lid, hoping that however it was would let me out. For once, my hopes didn't end up being major disappointments. I heard the boards above me groan as the nails were yanked off the lid, and then the whole was removed. I quickly covered my eyes before the sudden light blinded me, even though it was only twilight. Once they adjusted, I carefully observed my rescuer.
He looked middle-aged, with a long scar running from his lower eyelid to his jawline, a dangerous wound. He probably came close to losing his left eye. He had dark brown hair that he kept pulled back, revealing sharp, pointed ears. Bright emerald green eyes stared at me in wonderment, and despite the hardened wisdom in his gaze, he looked at me with an almost sort of fatherly gentleness, which made me wary of him. I didn't ever know my father, but if my step-father's and my relationship was something to judge by, I didn't like father figures. With a gentle smile, he said something to me and offered me his hand. I quickly shook my head, and tried to speak again, this time with some success, "Who are you? What do you want with me?" My speech was harsh, and I burst into a dry, hacking cough as soon as I finished.
The man frowned at me, then reached for my head. I tried jerking away, but my entire body locked up, making it impossible. He pulled my hair away from my ears, then brushed his thumb over my cheek and then, strangely, over the center of my forehead. He then said in a soft voice, "You must be far from home, little one. You speak a tongue foreign to me."
I started and stared at him when I realized he just spoke to me in the language that my mother told me was that of her people, though few knew of it, much less spoke it anymore. She had painstakenly taught me how to speak it till I had no trace of an accent, and could switch between it and English in a blink of an eye. Yet here was this man, speaking it equally as clearly, and somehow knowing that I knew it just by looking at me. Hesitantly, I responded in the same language, "I know not where home is anymore-." My voice broke again, and I started to cough again.
Frowning the man asked, "How long have you been in there?" Then he reconsidered and said, "Nevermind, I don't want to know. Come out now, and we'll get you cleaned up, fed, and watered. You look half-dead." I didn't tell him that was my intention. "We'll take you to our lady, and she'll help you home. If your home is gone, she will arrange for you somewhere to live. She may even keep you there, as an ornament of her court."
I didn't respond, simply trying to stand for now. The thought of a bath and a meal was horribly appealing, and I knew I would follow him to the ends of the earth if he followed through with that promise. He grabbed my upper arms and helped me stand and get out of the box. I was doing fine, till he let go. The instant he stopped suporting me, my knees gave out and I was falling to the floor, a cry being ripped from my throat at the painful jarring.
He caught me before I could hurt myself further, and I felt his anger practically sufficating me. I couldn't help but grit my teeth and try to stand on my own. I hated appearing weak, and apparently this man thought I was. As I struggled to my feet, I felt his anger fade and he said to me softly, "I wasn't angry at you, little one. I was angry at the man that did this to you." He then lifted me up into his arms and I eeped in shock, scrambling to get a grip on him in case he dropped me. A roaring laugh escaped from his throat, and I glared at him. I also hated being laughed at.
As he carried me out of the wagon we were in, he said softly, "My name is General Yukiru. What is yours?"
"Tomoyo." I answered shortly. My name was the source of many arguements between me and my step-father. He wanted me to Americanize it, go by Taylor instead. He wanted Rizu to go by Ron. Unfortunate for him, I fought for the names my mother gave us. I wasn't going to let him steal that away from me. The general nodded his acceptance of my name though, and jumped down to the road.
A group of soldiers saluted as we came down. One quickly began gabbering to the general in the unfamiliar language. He responded in kind. Whatever he said seemed to shock everyone there. It was obviously an order, though, since several of the men ran off. I honestly couldn't have cared less. Than one of the soldiers offered me a flask made of some sort of hide, which I accepted reluctantly. I wasn't sure what was inside, but I was so thirsty I couldn't resist. I pulled out the cork and took a sip. It was plain water, as far as I could tell. A few sips were all I could manage before I started coughing again. The water was refreshing, but I couldn't handle much. I knew food was going to be the same way.
Yukiru led me to where the others had run, and I was shocked to see huge mounts. They weren't horses, though. They were dragon-like, some with more than one head. Simple saddles were strapped to their backs, and Yukiru was quick to toss me up into one of them, a red one with two heads. The others around me were quick to mount. I noticed there were three mounts stacked with supplies, tied to the saddlehorns of other guards' mounts. A few other spares were tied similarly. The general noticed my stares, and explained, "We sent a few men ahead to report to the lady of our return. It's a three day trip, but it will give you time to put some meat on your bones."
As we rode, I realized that we were following a dirt trail through the dense trees, though they were quickly thinning out. We arrived at a clearing, set up for a campsite of huge perportions. Men were quick to dismount and begin to set up tents and start fires. Yukiru was slower, helping me down and keeping me standing with my sore limbs. He called out something, and a soldier came running forward. With a start, I realized this one was a girl. I had assumed I was in some sort of medieval timewarp, but now I wasn't so sure.
She was very pretty, with short, electric blue hair and matching eyes. Amazingly enough, she had stripes on her left cheek, dark gold in color. I was considered tall, being around five foot eight, but she towered over me by a good head. With a smile, she took my hand and tried to lead me somewhere. I stumbled briefly, but was quick to regain my balance and try and pull away. Yukiru touched my shoulders and assured me, "This is Azula. She will take you to bath and changed into fresh clothes. You can trust her." Then he glared at the girl in question, "Right, Azula?"
Looking very confused, she nodded her head and tugged my hand again. This time I followed her, eager to bath. Azula led me to a natural heartspring that took my breath away. I was shy about her being there with me, but when she casually started to strip, I hurriedly followed. Cautiously I slipped into the water and sighed happily, practically feeling all the dirt and grime fall off. I knew the nightclothes I had been captured in were ruined, but I had no idea what to wear.
Azula handed me a bunch of herbs, which when wettened, worked like shampoo and soap. I practically tore off my skin as I washed, eager to be rid of all the dirt. I had always hated being dirty, much to my brother's confusion since he loved mud and dust. When I was finally clean, I tried to look in the water to see what Yukiru had seen on my face that gave me away, but it was too rich with minerals for me to see even a hint of my own reflection. Shrugging, I started to climb out of the spring, Azula not far behind me. She didn't seem to mind putting on her clothes from earlier, but she seemed to understand my wanting to be rid of my own. She shyly handed me a bunch of folded up silk garments, dyed a light turquiose with a deeper blue design on it. First went a layer of white undergarments, then Azula helped me with what I now recognized as a haori and hakama. A dark purple sash with the same deep blue design was tied around my waist to keep the haori closed, and I pulled on the black boots myself. With a smile, Azula sat me down on a rock and started playing with my hair.
She was pulling it into all sorts of twists, but I didn't complain, till she laid a strand over my shoulder. A white strand. With frantic hands I reached back and pulled all my hair loose again and over my shoulder. Her cries of protest fell on deaf ears as I observed the mass of white hair that was now mine. Then I looked closer at my hands. My nails, kept filed and clipped short, were in points and seemed sharp. And on my wrists... I had stripes like Azula. Bright turquiose stripes on my wrists. I vaguely remembered seeing similar ones on my hips and ankles.
"What did they do to me...?" I murmured, my mind uncomprehending.
Here you go, my doves! I told you I'd have this out first! R&R, please!