Disclaimer: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.
The nightmare held her in its sturdy grasp, with each struggle; it merely tightened with reassurance that she would not prevail over this darkness. Images flashed through her mind, memories, nightmares, whatever they were caused immeasurable dread. Finally, when she seemed lost to her insanity, her eyes snapped open. Dilated pupils colored the emerald irises black, and her usually impassive mouth was twisted in real pain. Her lungs gulped the air greedily, desperately, like a newborn infant's first screaming breath. For several moments she remained in that state, until at last she understood the difference between her current reality and the hallucination. Easing her eyes shut, Trinity clouded herself in darkness once again and listened, felt. Birds sang, the sun warmed her face and neck, and with a sweep of her naked palm against the ground, the earth announced the dull prickle of grass. Muffled shouts rose to her ears, not panicked, but content, like children playing or a mother scolding her child. Also, horses, the sound of their hoofs unmistakable as they pounded against dirt. She eased herself into a sitting position, and immediately regretted the action. Pain racked against the back of her skull and black marks spotted her vision temporarily. Trinity scowled, unused to such agony, and pressed a white hand to her eyes in annoyance. She had had far worse pain than this in the past. Dropping her hand, her eyes measured the landscape as she groped for familiarity with her surroundings. Rolling hills, high mountains, and blue skies could be observed. The sound of inhabitance drifted toward her from her east, just beyond a grouping of trees. Her instincts of survival easily overtook her and an idea formulated in her pounding head. If she reached the trees quickly, she could hid behind then and watch the source of the noise. From there, she could hopefully deduct where she was or at least learn the people's routine. Standing, she stretched unhurriedly and glanced about. Nothing seemed to be a current threat, and from the shadows cast and the sun's position, she reasoned it to be about noon, give or take. With a vacant expression, she made her way to the grove of trees that stood between her and some form of civilization.
She reached them without trouble, and chose a big oak to rest behind. Propping her leg up against the trunk, she followed the curve of her calf with one hand, pushing her pants up until she located the knife strapped there. With a yank, she pulled it from its sheath easily. The blade was more of a precaution, a tool. Scralette never understood this, and constantly scolded her for being a bad example. Trinity pushed her friends to the back of her mind. Later, she would worry about them. She jammed the blade into the bark and took hold of the handle. Leaning to the side, she caught a quick glimpse and knew that the one glance was probably all she needed. Years of paranoia had heightened her ability to memorize things in an instant. The buildings were constructed of wood, carriages and horses were still in use here, and the people dressed in simple medieval style clothing. If this surprised Trinity, she did not show it. A glance down at her own attire pronounced the need for a new outfit. Button by button, she undid the blouse she wore and threw it up into a nearby tree, designating that as her home for the next few hours. Standing there in her undershirt and black slacks, she bit her lip as she thought about what must happen. She would need new clothing, that much was certain. It would not be difficult; the people looked like the type to have an abundance of basic needs. She required information mostly, what the current news of the village was. All this seemed easy enough to obtain after nightfall. Cautiously, she gripped the knife's hilt again and prepared to find another outfit. A frown found her pretty features as she realized the woman all wore dresses, something she refused to do. Instead, she focused on the young men, and estimated she could easily slip into their garments and pass them as her own. She pulled the knife from the tree and returned it to the sheath. Quickly, gracefully, she climbed the other tree and settled herself on a thick branch. She checked and assured herself that she could see the village from where she stayed.
Leaning back leisurely, she let herself think about the others as she waited for night's cover. The suspicion that Scarlette, Faith, and Destiny would be lost or killed clouded her mind. Scarlette was much too loud, Faith too reliant on modern technology, and Destiny was simply too pleasant to consider stealing her own necessities of survival. Trinity's bad influence had not yet spread to them. Dezaria, she had confidence in. Years of watching her nanny had given her an almost unfair advantage, or so Trinity hoped. A sharp stab of pain caused her heart to falter as she remembered the tears on Dezaria's cheeks during the argument. The memories of Scarlette's face, Faith's words, Destiny's loss of control were all too fresh in her mind. Still, she told herself, she must find them. Despite their disappointment and shame in her, they meant everything. Deeply, she regretted her actions and sins against them, but if they had known the circumstance, perhaps they would not have been so quick to judge. It hurt to think of them, of it, the reason. The sun was blazing, hours stretched out before her, taunting. Hours of these thoughts, her betrayal and emotional strife, threatened to drive her mad. She could not allow herself to mope, turn weak. Trinity slammed her head against the tree's base, hard enough to do damage, and almost smiled before she fainted from the pain. She greatly preferred unconsciousness to her own judgment.
When at last she pried her eyes open, it was already well into the night. She cursed under her breath and swung her legs over the side of the thick branch. Her fingers ran carelessly through her hair, she ignored the dried blood from where the trunk had done its damage. Suddenly, she pushed off and dropped almost soundlessly to the ground. She took a moment to steady herself before pressing forward. The brush and grove were simple enough to slip through, though the village provided some difficulty. No real cover could be offered there, and so Trinity reminded herself to be extremely cautious and not wake any of the inhabitance there. The clothes were the simplest to obtain, as they were hanging outside near one home. A simple brown tunic hugged her body pleasingly, and the color of her breeches melted with the black leather of her boots. She threw her slacks, undershirt, and shoes into a nearby brush. For food, she entered one of the homes and rifled through their cupboards, throwing items and a few small weapons into a cloth sack she had stolen from outdoors. Information she caught through a few implications, the weapons in the homes told her that war was upon them. The horse, also, was simple. All she needed was a saddle and a few kindly whispered words to the mare before she led him out of the stable. Tying her food pack to the saddle, she mounted the horse and gripped the reigns. Briefly, she considered forcing the stallion to gallop, but she could not risk her capture for a mere thrill. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the potential danger, but she reminded herself that this currently was no time to play games. Blindly, she guided her horse out of the village.