Author's Note: Hey look, I actually remembered to put one of these! Anyways, simple stuff. Sorry it took me sooo long to post this chapter, but I had actually written most of Sam's part and then tore it up because I didn't like it, and then I had the WORST case of writer's block ever. Please forgive me! Oh, and so I don't end up getting in trouble: I have never owned Danny Phantom, do not own Danny Phantom, and will only EVER own Danny Phantom in my dreams... so, yeah. I have nothing else to say. Read on!
Crossing Borders
Chapter Three
Love, S.M.
"Dash... haha… k―kissed… haha HA!... y―you!!! Hahahahahaha!" Sam grimaced as she rubbed an unbearably hot cloth over her cheek, trying to ignore the wild laughter that rang out behind her. Snakes still seem to crawl under her skin from the memory of Dash's kiss, and she slammed the hand with the facecloth down on the writing desk she sat in front of, glaring at the reflection of her overly red cheek in the mirror.
There was a moment's pause and then the full shock of the pain her hand had gone through came rushing at her, slamming her body with agony. "O―ow…" A whimper escaped her and she bit her lip, trying not to scream.
Valerie and Star, the ones who had been rolling in fits of laughter on Sam's bed, both sat up sharply at the 'thump' that echoed off the table, glancing worriedly at the ebony-haired young woman as she cradled her hand softly. "Are you alright?!" Starra Anne asked hurriedly as she scrambled awkwardly off the four-poster bed and ran over to her brother's fiancé. Val followed quickly after her and they both peered down at Sam's rapidly swelling hand.
"Oh my! I think something might be broken!" Valerie cried, gently taking the other girl's hand in her own and softly adding pressure to the blackening portion of the limb. Pain shot through the left side of Samantha's hand and she bit her lip harder, a small sob escaping from her throat. "Oh, I think we need a doctor! Star, go and get the Master, he should know what to do." Star got up off her knees quickly and ran out the bedroom door, all thought of etiquette flying from her mind as she rushed to follow the slave's orders.
Sam moaned softly as her hand shifted, closing her eyes at the tremendous amount of agony it cause her. "I'm going to go get something cold that you can put on it." Valerie told Sam quietly, trying, and failing, to painlessly rest the girl's hand on the cloth now resting on the writing desk. Sam nodded tensely and breathed through her nose as she watched Val run out of the room, keeping the rest of her body as still as possible.
As soon as the black had disappeared down the hallway Sam hunched over her hand and screamed into her skirt, shot upon shot of pain coursing through her. She had hid her actual pain from the other girls so they wouldn't panic, but the silence that followed her friends' departure was enough to finally break her shaky control. She let herself cry uncontrollably for a short time, rhythmatically rocking back and forth on her seat to the painful thrumming her hand sent through her.
Sam slowly became aware of the world again as her hand finally numbed enough for her to lift it off its perch and she opened her eyes, angrily wiping them free of tears as she berated herself for her weakness. Suddenly she spotted something creeping along the fringe of the forest outside her window and she jerked her eyes, still red and puffy from her tears, towards the area where she had seen the slight movement.
A tall, lean man was making his way across the outermost edge of the forest, not creeping as she had first assumed but walking around as if the world worshipped him. He was too far away for Samantha to see exactly who it was, but when he took something off of the belt that was holding his long white overcoat clasped together (it looked something like a long, plaited rope that glinted like metal) and started to flip it at one of the nearby slaves Sam fumed with recognition. The victim, a corn-picker Sam thought was named Arella, had paused to stretch her back after being bent over for hours on end only to cry out as the liquid-metal rope struck her across her back continuously and left bloody gashes behind.
Sam growled as she watched the middle-age woman fall to her knees in agony and clenched her one good hand into a white-knuckled fist. "Walker!"
Walker was the Manson's head overseer, earning the position only because of the slaves' obedience for fear of his liquid-metal whip, the only thing known around Amity that could rip the flesh and blood from its target's bones. He was thin and pale with a sickly look to his sunken-in eyes, his grungy black hair nearly always hidden by a white hat that shaded his too skinny face. He had a firm belief that slaves were to be forced to follow a certain set of rules like animals, and Valerie and the now-absent Tucker had been subject to his metal-whip more times than almost any other slave on Sam's family's plantation, only one of the countless reasons for Sam to detest him.
Samantha jumped off her seat and moved closer to the window, eyes narrowed as she watched the cruel overseer walk away calmly from the fallen Arella, never glancing back. All of the other pickers waited until they were sure Walker was truly gone before rushing over to her, but Sam was only vaguely aware of three slaves picking up the woman and carrying her into the forest. Instead she focused her soul on following Walker's path around the edge of the trees, jaw clenched as she watched him glance around briefly and then swiftly turn and start off into the woods around him.
Sam's eyes opened wide in shock as she witnessed the man's sudden departure (something that was strongly against his self-proclaimed rules) and she started forward unconsciously, climbing atop the armchair that sat in front of the window to lift the glass. She gasped as a flash of pain flew through her injured left hand but she continued on, lifting her many skirts and stepping through the opening to slide herself down on the small balcony that had been placed there purely for decoration.
Her hand still protesting, Sam grabbed onto a nearby vine of ivy, pushing the pain back into a corner of her mind. Glancing down for just a second in concern for her hidden feet, she seated herself on the low wall (ivy rope held in a death-grip between her hands) and swung herself around so that her legs hung out in open space. With a deep breath, Samantha squeezed her eyes tightly shut and slid off the rail into open air with only a vine of ivy, a faulty hand, and petticoat-covered feet to support her.
Suddenly her slippered feet hit brick and she gritted her teeth as her crippled hand protested intensely at the sudden weight and tears sprang up into her eyes yet again.
Violently shoving the pain back into that little corner of her mind, (something that was becoming increasingly hard to do) Sam slowly made her way down the side of the manor. She could clearly remember all of the times she, Tucker, and Valerie had escaped the horrible world they lived in to go explore the forest, something that had been considered safe until all the chaos the war brought on captured Amity in its depths. Then again, everything had been different before the war; Tucker had still been with them instead of off wondering in unknown lands trying to join a regiment that probably wouldn't accept him because of his skin, the three of them had used the 'secret escape' to run away from Samantha's annoying mother, not chasing after a cruel slave-driver to make sure he wasn't doing some misdeed, Star's parents wouldn't had 'accidentally' been shot after disagreeing with how the Confederacy was dealing with the war but would instead be alive so Dash and Sam wouldn't have to be forced into a marriage neither wanted. And, of course, Sam would be scaling the wall in trousers and using two able hands instead of multiple layers of useless petticoats and trying not to fall to her death because of a faulty hand.
Just as Sam felt that her hand could support her no farther her foot, reaching for the next crack in the wall, brushed against soil and she finally opened her eyes and glanced down, hopping lightly to the ground once she was reassured it was indeed there. She seemed to forget for a moment what exactly she had risked breaking her neck for in her celebration of not breaking her neck (she never had been the brave one; Tucker was stupidly brave and Valerie was bravely stupid, but Sam was just cautious), before she spotted the blood-stained dirt some fifty feet ahead of her and she was back to business.
Off she went, running absentmindedly past amused pickers that watched without surprise at her unlady-like behavior. Sam may not have thought, nor even been allowed to think, of escaping into the forest with her unusual companions since Tucker had left, but most had seen them run past so many times now that it was nothing for them to speculate at anymore. It had just never occurred with Sam rushing around in a hideous excuse of a dress that she never would have willingly touched purely because of the fact that it was totally and disgustingly pink!
And yet soon Samantha had passed all the slaves and was on the fringe of the forest, eyes trained on the soil floor as she searched for the large, deep-set footprints she knew only Walker would wear. Once found, she was able to follow them easily, weaving through the giant oaks with a practiced air. Sam trailed them, and upon some unrecognizable instinct she swept the path away with a tree branch, covering her light, almost undistinguishable prints as well as Walker's barbarian-sized ones with scuffs of dirt.
Some twenty minutes had passed before Sam finally seemed to catch up to Walker and she slowed, listening for noised she knew didn't belong in her peaceful green paradise. Soon enough she could hear leaves cracking (someone shuffling nervously under a tree) and the sound of harsh breathing. Sam crouched down, making sure not to make any noise, just like she would have done had she, Tuck, and Val been playing 'Hide me, Find me' and settled in to listen.
By all the noise coming from the clearing just beyond her tree, Sam could tell at least two dozen people were present, some injured by the sound of their grunts of agony, and none were used to being in the forest. Samantha gave herself just enough room to see around her oak, and what greeted her eyes didn't startle her but certainly angered her.
At least a dozen blacks, most injured, were tethered together like animals, watched over by six incredibly brutish men armed with guns and hand-knives. Four other men, all tense and untrusting, stood facing each other silently. One of them was Walker, his hand perched on his liquid-metal whip as he leered at the nearby prisoners. The others she couldn't see well, but one man, bulging with muscles and armed to the teeth with some of the strangest weapons ever, stood like a soldier, guarding over the man to his right, who had to have been of the hated yet tolerated Spanish blood.
The last man, standing to the left of Walker, was completely obscured from Sam and she huffed silently in annoyance before trying to shift her weight to see around the rail-thin overseer in her way. Just as she did, however, the Spaniard started to speak in rough English, startling her and almost making her fall over before she caught herself on the tree.
Hissing silently as her already abused hand scrapped against the ragged bark, Sam clenched it into a fist to try and hold off some of the sting as she tried to hear what the foreigner had to say. Shoving the pain back into the little corner in her mind was impossible, Sam could tell; she was mentally exhausted and had no choice but to struggle through the pain.
"Ah, seniõre, I have,… brought… delivery? Yes, delivery, fine delivery…pay?"
"Mmm, yes fine delivery, Mr. Sanchez, its fine… Now the only thing left to do is discuss how much these animals are worth, then, yes?" The hidden figure finally stepped forward and Sam nearly flew into a rage at who was revealed, a growl escaping her throat instead.
"VLAD!!!"
Forever, D.F.
"Stop wiggling!"
"I'm trying! It hurts like― ow!!! If you'd be gentle I co― Ouch! Watch it, lady!"
"Oh, be quiet, or I'll put another hole through you!"
"But darlin', you're not supposed to hurt your patients!... Ouch!"
"There; now go away, traitor."
Danny sighed as he heard the crystal-clear yelling echo around the trees as he drew closer to camp, an armful of wood cradled against his chest. Silence had long been devoid of their little troupe for almost three weeks, and he had finally given up on getting it back.
When he had told General Lancer who was really injured in the woods, Danny had to physically restrain the older man from grabbing his nearby musket and shooting the invalid till he was beyond recognition. Not that Danny could blame the general; Johnny Two-Sides had quite the revolting past.
Johnny, before he had joined the war, had originally been known as Jonathon Smith, a blacksmith's son living in Danny's hometown. When his mother, Mary, passed away his father turned violent, beating the boy to cover his own pain caused by his beautiful wife's death. Finally, unable to bare it any longer, Jonathon ran away and joined a regiment, becoming a gunman in the one place his blacksmith father would never to think to look for his cowardly son.
His father's feelings had been proven right during Johnny's first battle, where the boy officially earned the name that would stick with him forever, even now at the age of twenty-one. Johnny had marched into the battle, uniform gleaming and gun held proudly in his arms, only to jump at the first gunshot and run for the closest cover. By the time he had finally gained enough courage to return to his post, his regiment was retreating and a Confederate soldier had discovered him in his hiding place.
In order to save his skin Johnny agreed to fight for the Confederacy, thinking stupidly that since they had won that battle, they would win the rest. Of course, that vision was quickly torn to shreds when the Union easily defeated Johnny's new brigade and took the traitor captive. He resorted back to saving his own neck instead of standing up for his fellow Confederate soldiers, and told the Union victors that he had been tortured until agreeing to fight for the enemy.
And so he gained his new name, repeatedly switching sides to the winning end until both armies seemed to realize his actions, immediately causing a hatred so strong no one dared mention his name.
"Grrr! How I detest that man!" Danny was yanked from his thoughts by Kitty's voice, laced with venom and dislike. Danny set down his stack of firewood near the tiny fire Tucker had managed to start with flint and a pile of twigs, throwing the blonde girl a sympathetic glance as he gingerly placed a log onto the yellow flames.
Poor Kitty had been burdened with the traitor's care at the order of a harshly chastised Lancer, who, upon calming enough to be rational if not reasonable, hadn't wanted the gutless soldier anywhere near the camouflaged brigade. Instead the trio had been reluctantly turned into a quartet, and their movements slowed so much that Danny, who now only reported to Lancer every other night, was starting to feel strained with the fact that they were making what was once one day's travel over three.
"At least you won't have to deal with him much longer, Kitty. Not once we reach… there." Tucker still seemed to fear his old town, refusing to mention it as if it would put some sort of curse on his new life. "You can throw him in prison and leave it to them to deal with the tramp."
Tucker was right about that at least. With the pace they had fallen into over the last three weeks, it should actually only take them another few days of so to reach Amity Town. They would have been there a week ago, except for Johnny and his… condition.
That thought had Danny looking up at Kitty's ungrateful charge, taking in his downtrodden appearance. He had long, shaggy blonde hair that was dirty and matted, and too-wide, pain-filled green eyes took up a good portion on his face. Said face, which had been ghostly pale and bone-thin, was just barely starting to fill out from the food Danny's sling provided, but had yet to regain whatever coloring he may have originally had. That may have been because of the blood-soaked bandage that was currently wrapped around his right hip, however.
That injury had actually been how Danny first discovered Two-Sides, noticing first drops of blood on his way to report to Lancer that hadn't been there when he, Kitty, and Tucker had passed and then noises in the forest around them that definitely shouldn't have been there. It was also the reason Danny had even dared tell the general that he had found Johnny. Later asked, Johnny would bashfully tell how he had obtained the bullet wound, but only if out of earshot of the sarcastic Kitrina.
Johnny, who's most recent 'mercenary' work had been as a medic under an assumed name for the Confederate Army, had fled for his life when one of his older fighting comrades had been transferred to his unit as a lieutenant so as not to be recognized as the traitor he was. Instead he left his camp (which had only been some ten days west of Amity Town) and traveled through the forest in an arc until he happened to stumble upon a patrol of Union officers who, upon spotting his Confederate cap, open fired. Johnny was able to escape from the soldiers, but not before acquiring a bullet in his hip and another that grazed his left shoulder.
He wondered the forest in agony until he miraculously came upon the little scouting group eating a pheasant Danny had hit, drawn by the smell of cooked meat. Seeing that one carried a gun and another seemed to be able to disappear from sight at the slightest movement cautioned Johnny to refrain from approaching them, however. Instead he followed after them for weeks, trying to remain hidden until they reached their destination , wherever it was to be. There he would be able to get medical aid and food before starting out to find another regiment to scam.
Infection soon set into his hip, though, and his injury and his growing hunger betrayed him more day by day. Soon Danny was able to roughly track where Johnny was and he tried to discover his exact location on his disappearing acts Tucker and Kitty worried so much about. But when Danny finally got it right, it wasn't the enemy troupe he had feared, though the person he had found was just as bad, maybe even worse.
Johnny, whose body could take it no longer, passed out in a clearing in a high fever, not even reaching the tree he had been struggling towards on his knees in hope of sleep. Danny found him there, still unconscious and breathing in labored, coughing fits, when the sudden silence of the unnatural noises stopping told the Union soldier something was wrong. Not immediately recognizing who it was when Danny finally came to the clearing, he crept slowly forward, trying to get a good glimpse of the wild-looking man laying there. He had just gotten up close enough to where he could peer at the pulsing green bullet hole only to regret his actions.
The ebony-haired youth immediately felt a stinging pain in his lower leg and he stumbled back, staring, shocked, at the suddenly conscious traitor before the actual pain of his injured calf came coursing through him, waking him from his stupor and his stoic, emotionless face came instantly back.
Danny had calmly knocked Johnny back unconscious with a firm press to the wounded man's hip and went to get the fuming Lancer's orders without dealing, only to have to then return to the slumbering traitor and drag him slowly back to the trio's camp. There Kitty and Ticker watched, stunned beyond words, as he placed the man on his own sleeping mat and started to rid Johnny of his shirt, emotionally unaware of the injured man's gasps and cries of pain.
It took him a good hour to pull the blood-soaked cloth from the injury, where it had formed a type of suffocating second skin to protect his frail body, but once he had Kitty hurried to take care of the stranger (she had yet to realize the true identity of her new patient), pressing a fresh cloth to the pulsing wound. As the bleeding finally slowed, she risked looking at the infected sore, quickly coming to the conclusion that she would be unable to remove the bullet without the proper equipment, which she wouldn't have access to until they reached Amity.
Danny suddenly became aware of the smell of eggs, glancing over at Kitrina as she cooked then in the small metal pan that Jazz had given them in secret before they had started out (they really weren't even supposed to be having a fire big to glow on a tree five feet away, but they had broken that rule when Kitty realized that Johnny would die without warmth to chase off the chill that accompanied his fever). Sitting nearby, recently skinned by Tuck, was an undistinguishable bird, which probably came from the same place Kitrina had secured the eggs from. He was dimly aware of Johnny's glare focused on his back (he still hadn't forgiven him for knocking him unconscious, no matter that it had most likely saved his life) but Danny simply ignored the older fellow, instead putting another log on the fire and holding the poor dead bird over the flames.
Dinner cooked and eaten, (the roasted birdie slightly charred; Danny's family didn't have a good history with cooking), as well as their single dish washed (the skillet used to cook the forest eggs in) they quickly started to pack, silently going about a routine they had established since their first day together. Danny threw a shirt at Johnny (he was the only one big enough to share clothes with the man) and set about packing his little gear: a knife, a few changes of clothes that he had been forced to use as a bed for the last few weeks because Johnny was currently occupying his sleeping mat, a small amount of money they were to use to buy the house they were to masquerade as a family in, and the familiar red scarf, which he set to the side out of Johnny's view. Keeping an eye on the traitor, who was painfully trying to wrestle himself into the shirt without hitting his hip or moving his shoulder unless needed, Danny quickly tied the red material onto a branch when Two-Sides had his head buried in the layers of fabric.
So far they had managed to keep the scarf, as well as its meaning, hidden from Johnny; they just need to keep it that way for a few more days and then they'd be fine. Otherwise… Danny shuddered to think of what General Lancer would do to them should Johnny find out about the Union Army slowly making their way through the forest towards Amity.
Danny glanced over at the others to check on their packing, eyes slightly unfocused as he sketched out a vague path for them to follow in his mind. Kitrina had disappeared, probably to change her clothes with the perverted Johnny ogling her, but most of her knapsack was loaded anyways. He could see her med-pack clearly at the top, their little cooking skillet next to it, a knife she refused to wear even though it was supposed to be used for medical purposes only, and two extra sets of clothing. And just peeking underneath all of that was her Union uniform, something none of them had worn since Johnny had come into their midst; luckily he had been so out of it before then that he hadn't even noticed what they wore as he followed after them. Instead they wore the clothes they would have worn once they reached Amity, clothes that weren't exactly fit to be worn traveling in the woods.
The ebony-haired soldier looked away from Kitty's pack right as she walked back into view, a brush and her dirty clothes in her hand. She refused to let her personal hygiene diminish just because they were on a scouting trip, but the clothing… They all had tried to wash their clothes whenever they could in whatever stream they camped besides at night, but cold water could only do so much and in the end the material gathered so much dirt and grease that it was pointless really to even try cleaning them any longer. Danny would have to talk to Lancer about getting some spare money so the three of them could get new clothes when they reached Amity, else no one would believe their charade…
As Kitrina bent down to stuff the last bit of her belongings into her sack Danny glanced over at Jonathon, watching him struggle to roll up Danny's sleeping mat from his strained sitting position. The only other thing he had to his name was the canteen he had beside him; they had hid his musket back with one of the red-scarf tied trees for Lancer to pick up (he had even noticed; he was still going through so many fits of sickness that he didn't really care about anything anymore), and they had burned his Confederate uniform more out of the need to get red of the putrid smell than out of fear of being caught, though they weren't really sure the fumes of the scorching material was worth it afterwards…
Danny caught Kitty's eye as she stood from rolling her own mat, jerking his head over to the determined Johnny. He chuckled and peered around for Tucker as she growled and stormed over to the traitor, yanking the pad (though not hard enough to hurt his injured shoulder) from his shaky hands and briskly rolling it up. The blonde-haired man gave her a mockingly loving look, causing him to yelp as she unhesitantly pushed him roughly onto his back.
Tucker was currently climbing an oak tree, (Danny could see a nest somewhere near the middle), never breaking his pace as he nimbly moved from branch to branch. He had never told Danny where he had learned to do that, but he had a feeling that the black had spent most of his childhood in the forest by the way he maneuvered through it so smoothly. Tuck's rifle was strapped to his back (something that they were careful to keep away from Johnny though he showed no desire to use it; they had yet to use it, and all of them wanted to keep it that way) and his already closed pack lay at the base of the tree. Daniel already knew what was in it, though. Enough gun powder and shots to take down a small army (Tucker showed no strain when carrying it however; he must have had a very labored chore when he was a slave not to break a sweat from all that weight. Danny certainly did), three changes of clothes, a knife that he hardly ever took off, though he didn't have it on now, and two hair ribbons, one yellow and one orange, that he slept with clenched in his hands over his heart at night.
The black came back down right after he placed a pouch (made from whatever feathers the bird once had woven together quickly) into the bird nest Danny had spotted, jumping down and scuffing away the boot prints he had made. Danny stood and they both walked over to the fire, covering it with sand and water before quickly chucking the smoldering logs into the stream with their hands covered by their shirts and scrapping away the ashes, leaving no trace that a fire had ever been there.
Kitty saw their motions, the signal they were about to leave, and bent down to pick up a long stick, carved by Danny on one of his trips to Lancer for Johnny to use a crutch. As soon as they finished with the fire Tuck and Danny hurried over to the other man, lifting him onto his feet as softly as they could, though it still sent Johnny into wave upon wave of agony. Kitrina secured the crutch under his arm and quickly tied a makeshift sling over his arm to keep it from moving, standing on her toes to reach behind his neck. He bent down slightly so she wouldn't have to reach as far and his lips skimmed her neck, causing her to jerk back and refuse to meet his eyes, blushing slightly. Danny and Tucker, who had failed to notice the embarrassing moment, sent her a puzzled look, but she bent down hastily and picked up Johnny's canteen, her hair hiding her bashful face.
With Kitrina finished getting Johnny ready Danny and Tucker let go of him, standing nearby only a second until the older man got his balance, and then they all went for their supplies and belongings. Danny picked up the blood-stained mat Johnny had been sleeping on and strapped it to his back and then lifted his own pack, waiting for the others to get secure.
Everyone looked around once more to check that they had left nothing behind and that it looked like just another part in the forest, never betraying the fact that someone had slept there the night before. A few drops of blood remained where Johnny had slept but they ignored those, instead started slowly off, heading in whatever direction Danny chose.
As they traveled an easy silence fell upon them all, only interrupted by Johnny's sharp breathing or Danny's hiss of pain at a branch or bush scrapping across his still-injured calf. Every once in a while they would pause, either for Johnny to rest and catch his breathe or for Danny to go and try and get a glimpse of the stream they were supposed to be following, but for the most part a steady pace was set. Even if it was slower than what any of them, especially Johnny, who felt he was being babied, desired.
By the time mid-afternoon came, however, they had slowed significantly, and Danny was beginning of thinking of a place to stop for the day. Johnny had gone farther than he ever had before on his crutch, and Danny himself was starting to feel the strain on his leg, slowly throbbing out a steady rhythm. Tucker had taken the lead however, and at the moment he was too far up for Danny to get his attention; he didn't dare yell at the black lest someone heard. No matter how far Danny felt they still were from their destination, there was always the chance slave-catchers were in the area, and even the quietest yell could alert them to the quartet's presence, something that wouldn't turn out well for Tucker.
And so Danny decided to continue on a little farther until Tucker came back to check on them and see if they needed anything, seeing as they were all intensely burdened down now. Danny was limping along at a pace one would call human, but to him it felt like he were a snail. And Kitty had taken to supporting Johnny on his left side, taking the sling off his arm no matter how much it would hurt and placing it over her shoulder. He never thanked her but he leaned gratefully to the left, forcing Kitrina to wrap her arm around his waist to help support some of the added weight she now carried.
Up ahead Tucker had begun to nervously clutch his musket, knuckles white as the sense of something incredibly familiar but askew crashed into his being. Suddenly the sight of something utterly impossible made his heart flip and then stop, freezing him in place. He was there for what felt like an eternity before Danny and the others finally managed to catch up, and when the ebony-haired soldier spotted the black he ran up to him quickly, catching the youth just as he started to fall backwards.
"Tuck! Tucker!" Danny almost yelled, barely able to hold up his best friend as his right leg started to buckle and give way. When the former slave finally managed to speak, it was in a weak, breathy voice.
"Danny?"
"What, Tucker? What's wrong?" Danny asked furiously, slowly placing the other boy down on the forest floor as Kitty and Johnny gazed on in shock.
"Something's wrong. We're in Amity." And he proceeded to promptly faint.
Author's Note 2: I just realized something... well, two things. The first is that I've none this guy named Tucker since, like, forever, but I only just connected the Tucker&Tucker thing... and they're both clowns... Man, I'm blonde... Cool!
And the second thing is, has any ever noticed that I seem to enjoy giving my all of my characters these really nasty injuries??? I mean, I don't do it on purpose, but its really freaky... I think I need a psychiatrist; oh well, I can just go see my uncle!
But anyways, if you all have actually stuck it through all this crap to read this, I SHOULD probably have another chapter posted in the next two-four weeks. It depends on how long it takes me to struggle through all the jumbled thoughts I've suddenly been bombarded with since I got over my writer's block... anyways, yeah...
Tootles then!
Angel
