A/N Thanks for all your reviews. I will seriously try to make my chapters longer. I guess at the moment I'm trying to create scenes of Carlormene life and first impressions of characters, which is why the story may not be flowing as it should. Anyway, I've also edited previous chapters slightly, so hopefully there aren't so many grammatical errors.

Here goes:

Chapter 4

Drifting in and out of consciousness, she gradually came to. The first thing she noticed was the pain. It permeated every inch of her screaming body. The next thing that came to her attention was the intense throbbing of her head. She was sure that she had never had a splitting headache like this before. Slowly she fluttered her eyes open and realised that open or shut, there was no difference. The darkness that surrounded her was complete.

Groaning, she slowly lifted a hand to her aching head. Rather than feel soft silky hair, however, her fingers touched something warm and sticky. The unforgettable, chemical scent of blood washed over her as she lowered her hand. She battled with nausea and only just won.

Little by little she raised herself into a sitting position. Every inch felt like a million tiny pins were piercing her body. She wondered how she got here, why she was in so much pain, but it hurt to think. She touched the floor. It was earthen, cool and slightly damp. She felt around her, but could find no evidence of a wall. Which was a pity, because there was no way she was going endure the pain of moving in order to find a wall to lean on.

She directed her eyes upwards, and amazingly, thought she saw a glimmer of light. She decided that she would ignore the cries of her body for a discovery so phenomenal as this and moved into a better position. It appeared that there was a row of very straight cracks in the darkness above her that allowed a slight glow of, well something, to enter this pitchy 'place'.

At least the place didn't smell too bad. It was musty, earthy and close, but it could have been worse. Since she was in a different position now, she again felt around for a wall, against which she could rest. Unfortunately, she didn't find a wall. What she did find was flesh. She screamed. She couldn't help herself. This place was already dark and creepy enough without adding another element of the unknown to it. Quickly, she retreated, ignoring the complaints from her aching body. She slid along her bottom, trying to get as far away from whatever it was as possible.

She had not gone too far before her back slammed into something hard. Now her body was really upset. Groaning, she felt it and found it was the wall she had been so eager to find. Then she realised that her groans were mingling with the moans of another. Gasping, she shut her mouth. The 'something' shifted and moaned. She stayed still and quiet as a mouse.

Suddenly a voice spoke in the darkness. It wasn't hers. "Who…who's there?" it said.

It was remarkable how, in so few words, the voice could communicate so much. The slight tremble in it told her that its owner was apprehensive, maybe even frightened, possibly hurt. Its treble pitch told her that the speaker was male; probably young. Of course, she surmised, it could be a female with a very deep voice. In any case, its tone was nice - strong and clean and slightly husky. It was a tone that probably belonged to someone that was trustworthy. Still, she wasn't sure if she should speak. Her experiences with males of late had not been agreeable.

The voice spoke again. " Look I know someone is in 'ere and you should know that I – despite my weakened state – am very capable of "knocking your block off" as we say where I come from."

She had never been very successful at resisting a challenge - or a mystery. "And where, may I ask, do you come from?"

"Ah ha!" said the voice. "I knew it was a girl. No male could ever scream at that pitch. And…you are a girl, aren't you?"

" The question is not so much whether I am a daughter of Eve as whether you are a Son of Adam – or whatever these desert crawlers call them. And you still have not answered my original question."

"Well I'm not sure who my father is – I'm an orphan you see. But if I did 'ave a father I would be a son. And as to your first question, I'm from London, East End. "

She pondered this for a moment. It took her a while, because the throbbing in her head, which had been temporarily suspended as a result of the excitement of discovering another being inhabited this dank hole, had returned. Finally she said, "Boy from Lundunn, Eastand, may I have your name?"

"It's Christopher, but you can call me Kip."

"Kip…" she whispered. Her head was pounding now, not slowly, rhythmically, like the waves against the western shore, but at an ever escalating tempo. She supposed that she should tell the boy her name, just for politeness sake, but…what was her name? Kip was talking again, but his voice sounded distant, like an echo. Now…her name. She thought hard, dug deep into her hurting mind. Cassia. That was it. Now to say it.

"Cassia. My name is Cassia, Kip," she managed. " I -" She stoped. The pulsation of her head had escalated to such a speed that she thought it would explode. It did, in a sense. One moment she was acutely aware of her screaming body and the hammering of her head, the next moment, nothing. Blackness.

"Cassia? Are you all right? Cassia!"