"I am shpent enough time at the edgesh of water, hunting fissh within the murky shurfaces, to know what the shea's wildlife is trying to tell ush – hic."

Nat Pagle during one of his drunken stupors.


"Hope."

A sweet voice tickles the edges of mind.

"Hope, sweetie, its time to get up."

I feel my arm moving, attempting to remove the feminine voice from my presence.

"My, my…" There is a pause and the sounds of footsteps. "Looks like we are doing this the hard way, eh?"

As the last words slip her lips I make to open my eyes, but it is too late. Without warning I feel gentle fingertips collide with my ribs. Delicately they dance, running up my sides with no mercy. My limbs thrash wildly, hoping to drive back the unyielding prodding, but she has me. She got me good.

And now I am trapped, left to live in her assault. And sadly, all I can do is laugh. Laugh uncontrollably.

"I will stop if you get up!" She giggles as I roll to my side, "What, you haven't had enough?"

Immediately I feel her fingers shift their pace. Faster and faster they tap a trot of terrible pleasure. I tug, but the blanket is wrapped around my legs and side. So much tickling. So much laughing. Too much. Too much!

"Ok, ok!" Desperately, yet laughingly, I cry to her, "Uncle! Uncle!"

My thrashing continues on, praying for the end to this merciless onslaught. My legs curl into my body, as I roll to my side. I can still feel her hands upon me, barraging my body…but…yet…I cannot feel her fingers.

She giggles, and curiously I open my eyes. A pair of large, beautiful blue orbs lock upon mine. Freckles form a faded pattern beneath her glowing eyes. Sweet, red lips curl to a malicious, kind smile.

"Now, don't you feel better?"

I smile, but…I a surge of unwanted emotions overwhelm me. A frown forms, but I am far too lost in my head to notice. Unfortunately, she is not one to ignore it.

"Sweetie…you don't have to be scared of the other children."

Her smile fades, but still hangs firmly. I, however, shake my head and pull the blankets to my cheeks.

"I don't want to go to school. They are meanies. They are just going to make fun of me"

Her hand reaches for mine, driving back the warm cover.

"My little angel, the kids just cannot see how special you are. They are jealous." She pulls closer to me, "You are perfect, and it makes them mad. They want to bring you down."

She runs her fingers through my hair, "So spread the wings of your adorable smile and soar. Fly like an angel near and far. Glide until your troubles are no more. Let them see you for who you are. You are the angel, my angel. You are the hope, my Hope."

Her fingers run back to my lips, running the lengths of my now growing smirk. "Now, how about some breakfast?"

With that, I give her a weak nod, and she stands, and makes for the door. However, as she opens it, she turns to me, blows me a kiss, and smiles. I pull myself up and throw my body out of bed. She continues to smile…except for…

Her coughing…

She tries to hide it, but she cannot. Even with her hand and stubborn, sealed lips, I can see her shake and hear her release muffled disturbances. A sense of concern envelops my tiny self as I come to my feet.

"Momma, I can help you."

She turns back to me and smiles.

"I would much like that, but..." she scans me, "someone might want to get dressed first."

She vanishes through the door, and I instantly begin searching the room. Pants, shirt, socks. Check, check, check. Ok, pull that over my head. Now pull those up. Slide those annoying feet warmers over my toes. Done and done.

Toes wriggle, forcing white cloth to wrinkle with each flick. My feet slide against the floor, directed for a pair of black, leather shoes. Gently, carefully, I guide my feet into them and smile as I complete my task.

But my joy does not last…

At first it starts gently, an insignificant beat of battered lungs. But with each passing second it grows. I shuffle across the room. My hands lock to the door. Ear pressed against the wood to hear.

The sound intensifies, with it an increasing sense of paranoia. It is then, as clanking pots and shattering glass interrupt the rhythmic blasts, that my fears are real….

I do not even feel my arms knock back the door, nor my feet guiding me into the kitchen. But my eyes do not miss the sight. Slumped against the sink is the once lively form of my mother. In her stead is a torn woman, ravaged by the relentless cough we know too well.

"Mother!"

I dart across the room, rushing to her side, but I cannot near her. She seems to grow further and further away. Why can I not get to her? I just want to hold her! I just want to bring her the safety she brings me!

"Let go of me!"

Again I yell, but at whatever, or whoever holds me. But nothing has me. Nothing is holding me back. Nothing is keeping me from her, but how can I not move? She needs me! She needs!

"Momma, your angel is here! Mother!"

Her hand reaches for mine, but I cannot reach it. The distance between us grows, expanding to a field of black and nothingness. Try harder, Hope! Try harder!

"Momma, your Hope is right here!"

The words slip out of my mouth, and darkness consumes me. My eyes slip open, letting the dark, partially lit light fill my sight. An uncomfortable object presses into my back. To my sides, I see nothing but rotting wood and cracked walls.

I am awake…another nightmare. Of course.

My body slows, but quickly tenses as I notice the door is partially ajar. Instantly, I sweep the room, scanning for one object. I look across every inch, and grow fearful as I gaze down into my arms.

She is gone.

Without hesitation, I leap to my feet, throw the door open, and dart panicked outside. I make to rush down the hill, but a tiny chirp from behind draws my attention. I scan the horizons, attempting to decipher the sound's location.

Another chirp…and I know exactly where it is.

Glancing to the pile of bones, I see one moving skull shifting across the grass. I watch it, letting the lifeless object shoot wobbly across the small field. A smile forms across my face as it rushes headlong into the building and…

Thump

Bone rains as the tiny skull is crushed by the impact. A tiny, orange object stumbles from the wreckage, a large chunk of bone still placed on its head. Like a tiny helmet, it hangs to the top of her head as she scans the terrain.

Finally, she glances to me, and begins to shake. A slimy, red tongue slips from her mouth as her tiny body sways to the sweep of its tail. I sigh, and shake my head at her.

"Well, it suites you, Squeals."

She chirps, running over to a small hill facing the road. Her large, now armored head looks back to me and she chirps loudly. She leaps forward, scampering down the slope. I sigh and take off after her.

Where in the world is she going?

You never know.

Oh, now you feel like showing up?

You know I am master of timing.

I sigh again, but keep focused on the tiny pet. She scurries on to the gravel, and rushes towards the two, broken spires that form an arch before us. I remember them…

You couldn't possibly forget…

Second by second, the gray edifice grows, forming a curved stone path only a short distance away now. She rushes to it, directing us the perfect way. She hurries for the bridge, but oddly diverts as we near.

She struggles up a small hill, and I reluctantly follow.

"Girl, where are you…"

Before I can finish my statement, a figure appears in my vision. A thick, cape, bordered by white and fading to black in the center, covers the back of the man. From here, I can see a pair of large shoulder pads. If my vision serves me well, I believe I see a dozen, skeleton arms, lined vertically next to each other upon his shoulders. They form a circular pattern, each one as if protruding from underside of his pads , reaching for the heavens above. They encompass what appears to be a large block in the center, but from here, I cannot make out if that is correct…

However, before I can continue gawking, a low, raspy voice booms loudly.

"Little Squeals? Well, if you are here, I am guessing your friend is close behind."

She rushes to its legs and chirps. At that, the figure lurches to its feet, revealing a pair of large, black gloves. It turns slowly, twisting in my direction. A pair of solid black boots is revealed. I notice stray rivulets carved into the side of each boot. Within said slit is a pulsing light, fading from blue to black, almost of that of the Titan giants of prior.

Finally, he turns to me. Pale flesh is partially covered by silver and white hair upon his head and chin. Glowing blue eyes match the wavering voice of the said figure. So, this is where he went.

"Hope Blackwood, what are you doing here?"

I feel my head shaking as I move to him, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

He glares at me, "Are you lost, or simply dazed and confused?"

I stop, narrowing my vision on him, "I like to consider my self aimlessly determined. What is your excuse for being here?"

"Consider me more as determinedly aimless." He turns from me, directing his vision to an armored horse to his side. "Sadly, I must break from my lackluster tradition, and direct myself into the nearby Andorhal."

The man shifts across the dead grass, as if gliding. Strangely, as he reaches the horse, he diverts his focus upon the joyful, wriggling beast that is Squeals. All movement stops as he gazes down to her. He just stares…until finally he glances back to me, then to her.

At that he sighs, reaching for the tiny beast. She does not fight, but I do flinch as he tucks her at his side. A dull thumping radiates from within me as he leaps upon his mount. He adjusts himself on the horse, only to shuffle my once organized demeanor.

Lastly, he draws the little monster from his arm, places it upon a metallic curve on top of the horse's helm, and turns to me.

"You know as well as I the conversation lost in this moment."

He whips the reins, maneuvering the horse in my direction.

"Now do me a favor, and use the foregoing of said dialogue as my acceptance."

The side of the beast draws near, but I cannot help but look at him.

"Darion, what in the world are you talking about?"

He lowers his eyebrows, "Hope, get on this horse, or I am taking your pet."

I glare at him, attempting to call his bluff, but…that would be idiotic. He would take her just to spite me. At that, I claw at the metal siding of the beast, but like usual, I find myself unable to get on.

"Hope, I swear," I feel his hand grip the back of my shoulder, "you are really special sometimes."

With a mighty tug, I find myself lifting and properly lowering into position. I wiggle in my spot before he turns the side of his face to me.

"Comfortable?"

I shrug, "Not sure, but…I am certain I have something sharp stabbing me somewhere it really shouldn't be."

"What a shame," he cracks the reins, "I hope it doesn't ruin your day."

The horse lunges forward, moving quickly, but not so to truly bother me. Dirt crackles beneath the heavy hooves, and grass buckles to the combined weight of two passengers and a Squeals.

You are adding the three-pound runt to this equation?

Not really, just more of a mental joke. It is obvious that the thick, dreary armor of my said driver is obviously the cause of the bulk of the baggage. Though, speaking of Darion, I cannot help but feel an undying need to question him.

You know better!

"Darion?"

"What?"

"Why are you taking me with you?"

He groans and speaks without looking back, "Honestly, Hope, you are far more of a burden then an asset here. I need all haste available, and your extra weight does not aid me in that purpose."

I glare at the back of his head, "Darion Mograine, how in the world did that answer my question?"

A grunt escapes his lungs, "That being said, Hope, be thankful I wish to keep you from wandering into your own demise more then the speed of my venture. Now be quiet"

There is a silence, silence except for the now battering hooves echoing upon the heavy stones of the bridge. Thoughts tangle in my mind, forming bramble patches of confusion and wonder. Don't say a word…

You better not!

"Darion?"

"What?"

His voice is angrier than before. I cannot imagine why.

"Why are you heading to Andorhal?"

Darion does not say a word. Instead, he lifts his left arm, directing it out at an angle. I follow the bulky, bony pads. My vision glides down the black, pulsing arms and lock onto the lone, pointing finger.

My eyes navigate to the waters below. Nausea creeps within the churning acids of my stomach. Dozens of black, gray, and brown objects float upon the surface of the water. Tiny, glossy beads glare back from their sides. Thin sheets line the sides of the long, lifeless arbitrations.

Fish…dozens of dead fish. And between them, are growing pustules of water. The fluid bubbles and pops wildly, as if boiling. Yes, if I am correct…boiling is right. How in the world?

I do not know what it means, nor do I know its significance. All I know is that it has me worried. That and it has Darion bothered enough to leave the home that is the Plaguelands.

And that is enough for me.