Fresh air caresses my poor pale face. Fresh air! I know, right? So what if it's fresh Eagle air, air is air, and to be honest, I've only inhaled it in my dreams of late.

"This is impossible! I can't believe it!" I squeal, dancing around on the spot despite my aching limbs and complaining abdomen.

"Nothing's impossible. This was scheduled anyway," Loren smiles.

Of course he's right there. But if he's a real friend, then I don't care if he sees my random boogie of joy. Random boogieing was SOOO big, in the Dwarven taverns that I occasionally dipped into in my early teens. But then, it could just have been because they were literally that drunk … Oh, who even cares?! I'm outside, and the world is hugging me so tight I can scarce breath! Naturally, nothing compares to a Loren hug, but then that was the first human contact I'd had in months. Human contact! God, the very thought scares me.

"Scheduled? You mean the Eagles couldn't stand me being cooped up in there any longer? Really?" I sputter, my jig halting in its tracks.

"Yup. You might die, I guess, if you don't get exercise for so long. I think you get this regular exercise for a few weeks from now on. New regime; there's this geezer called Diego in charge now."

Diego? Well, whatever, did this new leader have an ounce more moral than the last? Obviously so. Or it could just be the build-up to something worse.

"You're not exactly free either," Loren reminds me, "So you can't say whatever you want to, even out here."

Ah, only true. It sucks that there's about a half-dozen Eagle thugs stationed around the training yard. That's them, the stuck up loony perverts ogling me on top of the wall that borders the grounds.

"Don't you get too friendly with the girl, Stone!" shouts a swan from the left, sniggering as he continues, "One would think you fancy the prisoner!"

A couple more chickadees guffaw at the last comment. Ooh, nice! Now let's all go gave a simply spiffing cup of tea while we're at, my good chaps? I really don't know why, nor do I want to, it stirs my kickass blood.

"I can hardly see you uglies as anyone but loners, b*stards!" I yell back, which of course takes them off guard completely. Prisoners around this dump aren't exactly full of energy, and even the guards are too flat out to retort properly.

"You're in LOVE!" they yell back, laughing maddeningly, "LOREN and the UGLY!"

Pure children. They're spitting insults like eight year olds. My grandmother, if she was still alive, would be able to insult better than them! Come to think of it though, all of the Riven bloodline are decent at verbal aggression. And physical aggression.

I remind myself of that as I march right up to one of them and slug him in the face.

"Ann!?" Loren yells, trying to sound thoroughly shocked, but I can still hear that inkling of admiration.

And, of course, that inkling spurs me on to punch him in the gut as well, before Loren's sturdy arms swoop down over me and he hauls me away.

"Manservant!" I shriek, having just decided on a new nickname for him, "Let me at 'em! My fists are gonna fly until they spit blood!"

"There'll be nothing for your fists to fly at by that time. See – look, they've run off!"

I turn my head around hesitantly, suspicious that it's just a trick to get me to stop beating everything within a two-metre radius of me.

It is. They're still there. Roaring their heads off with laughter. Pointing and jeering, at weak little me. A hot-headed toddler who needs supervision. Loren is the supervisor. He's the one who's caused my mockery. I hate this. I hate getting laughed out. I can't deal with this. Why don't they just stop laughing?! Stop! STOP!

Loren refuses to let me free. He doesn't even flinch when I start to assault him. What's worse is, he walks back into my cell with me still trapped as well.

When he's freed me, I slap him hard on the face. Thrice.

"Oww?! What the hell, Ann?!" he splutters, stunned. My flushed face, furiously twinkling eyes and bunched fists are answer enough.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" I scream right in his face, pushing him so violently that he staggers into a column, trips on a coil of rope and ends up on the ground. It's the same column as when I slapped him.

"Oh, I don't know …" he whispers, clambering to his feet. He's kept his voice dangerously silky and delicate, but I feel in no way safe, "How about … saving your life?"

"Saving my life?!" I shout, blind with rage and humiliation, "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Suddenly, I'm gone. Passed. Inaccessible from this world. In a dimension of my own. Time doesn't exist there. I just have to act on impulse. Act recklessly.

I kick Loren down, hard in the stomach. Feel the rough weave against the palm of my hand as I slip the coil of rope he's just tripped on through my fist. Relive utter torment as the Eagles laugh at me, lips twisted in ugly sneers. Hear the cries of torture. Venom leaks into my boiling veins, and I step forward. I can barely see Loren amongst splodges of red in my vision. It's still rope in my hand, but it's something else too, now. A weapon. Revenge.

I take another step. My foot trembles and threatens to slip from underneath me, but I won't allow it. No more humiliation. I come from proud people. I will never be insulted like that again. Not until my darkest hour. My pupils flex like my fingers over the lash. Loren's blinking, come back to his senses. His eyes find me. There's an emotion in them I've never seen before, not in anyone's.

Pity.

I hate it. But I can't stop it, and I want it too. His eyes are so green. I want more of his eyes. Any emotion would be fine in those by me.

My right foot comes down as heavily as my breathing. Livid. I've never felt like this before. My limbs ache, my heart on the verge of exploding. Loren's saying something, but I can't hear it. I can only hear the laughter, ringing in my ears. I hate that, too. I hate everything.

Why can't it all just stop?!

The final footfall comes silently. I have the whip in my hand, and I'm going to kill him. I've killed Eagles before. I'll do it again. He says he's not an Eagle, but he's just like the rest. I hate Eagles. I hate him. I am going to do it. I am going to kill.

I haven't known him for very long. Not long enough to become attached. For if I was attached to him, this would be harder, right? But even breathing seems hard at the moment. I raise the rope. We're not friends. I barely know him. All I know is, his eyes are really green. It's an emerald colour. I like it.

Something's wrong. The rope slips out of my hand. My eyes are focusing and refocusing too fast. Breathing is strained. The world is silent. Crimson stains my eyes. Loren gazes at me, concerned, on his knees. His lips are moving, but I can't hear anything anymore, just a swirling tempest of blood pounding on my eardrums.

Then the light goes out and I collapse.

An extra long one for ButterTardis! You've been waaaay too patient!

I'll admit to feeling scared writing the last few paragraphs. I hate doing this to Ann and Loren; I love them too much. It's not fair on them. I'll take this chance to apologise to them:

Ann: What on earth?! NOW you're apologising?! You've banged me up in jail, messed up my hair (I love my hair), killed half my family and made me nearly kill Loren?! I think this apology is a little overdue, missy!

Loren: Yeah! What she said! Just skip all these dumb arguments and near-death situations until a kiss scene! More kiss scenes!

Ann: What he s- wait, WHAT?! LOREN!? WHAT DID YOU SAAAAAY?!

xxx