A/N: So. I'll try to upload the other already written chapters today, like I tried yesterday, but I had to leave for errands last-minuite-ish. Okay, I have to rant for a second. Here goes: So, you guys know that show, Ancient Aliens? It's on the History channel. My dad is obsessed with it, and when I asked why, he said, "Well, when I was in about sixth grade, I always thought that mankind had been helped along by aliens, but at the time,no one else did. This show is all about that theory." Sometimes, I just wanna tell those "scientists" on the show, "What about the Bible?" Really, if you listen to that show, you can just tell that those people are nutters. Insane. And right now, I'm at my kitchen table, and I can see/hear what goes on in the living room. And my dad is non-stop watching Ancient Aliens. In the living room. He knows that show annoys me. I think that he's just out here watching it because we arguged yesterday, so he's doing this to spite me. And my mom is at work, so she's not here to side with me and tell him to stop. Right now I think that they're disscussing the (non-existant, in my opinon) possibility of aliens sending down the asteriod that killed dinosaurs, and then the dinosaurs surviving and co-existing with humans. These people are insane. But, on with zee story!


Chapter Seven

Back in Willow's POV

I heard a faint beeping sound. It grew louder. Please just go away. Is being left alone too much to ask for? Apparently, yes. Now, along with the beeping, I heard voices. They sounded strangely familiar. I knew that I'd heard them before, but I wasn't coherent enough to identify them.

"If she dies or is otherwise harmed, I will personally use your hides as rugs and have your heads mounted on the wall. Understood?"

"Y-yes. Yes, sir."

"Let me speak to my wife. Now. Alone. I don't think that she quite understands the importance of this child." Then there was a stumbling sound, and someone said, "Come on." Then a thump, like someone was being forced onto their knees. "Now, now, men, we still must have a little respect. She is, after all, the First Lady. She is, after all, still my wife. Show some nobility, boys! This is beneath you." A few more "Yessirs" and the door closes, the guards having left, apparently. "So." The voice says icily. Another voice says, "Have I ever told you how important this little girl is?" "No." "That's no sir. Well, she could mean, for us, the difference between poverty and wealth. Success or failure. Life. Or. Death!" The voice has risen to a louder tone by the end. "So?" The second voice, also familiar, said icily. "You expect me to care?" "Yes! I expect you to care, about my career, my life, my wealth, my orders! I ordered you not to go near the girl! Do you know how I punish people who disobey me? Do you?!" The voice stopped, and I heard several deep breaths before it returned, noticeably calmer. "I give them a choice. Either a lashing, a hanging, or banishment. Take your pick." "Y-y-you wouldn't really harm an old woman, much less your wife, would you?" The first voice came again, cold. "The only reason you married me," Here it paused. "Was because you wanted protection. You were worried that the people in your area would murder you for witchcraft. Well, fool, let me clue you in, just in case no one else has. There – is – no – such – thing! You're delusional! Insane! Schizophrenic!" Again with the pause to draw deep breaths. "You are a disgrace, both to your family and mine. You are a freak. Vermin. Something that needs to be exterminated. Get out of my presence. Guards!" A pain fully – at least for me – loud bang as the door flew open. Then more dragging. I heard the door swing, but before it shut the first voice said, "The punishment for her disobedience is execution." A slight pause. "Y-y-you sure, sir?" "Of course, fool! I wouldn't have said so if not, now would I?" "Y-yes, sir. What form?" "Something . . . discreet. No one is to know aside from the people in this room. Anyone else who knows will be hung, and anyone who tells someone out of this room will be hung – but tortured, first. It will be a murder – make it look like an assassination by the rebels. All of you in this room will report to my suite at 9:30 tomorrow. State your names; anyone no present or late will be hung, even if it's only by a second. We will discuss the final plan then. Everyone comes, remember. Everyone – except you, scum." I guessed that the final sentence was directed at the woman, based on the way he was ranting on her before. A couple of, "Yessirs" and then a "Get on with it!" And the door closed. I cracked an eye open ever so slightly. The room was empty. I opened my eyes fully and tried to stretch, only to find that A.) I was covered in bandages and B.) As soon as I had even barely moved an inch, a searing pain ripped through the left side of my body. Glancing down, I do a double-take and stare at the wound. It is covered with clean, white bandages, but I am marveling at the size. The bottom of the wound spreads from my left knee, traveling diagonally to my upper-right thigh. On my left side of the wound, it extends from my knee to just below my chin. My right side of the wound is from my upper-thigh to above my chin, about two inches higher than the other side, just below my mouth. The top of the injury is from slightly below my chin to two inches higher.

I bet that it'll leave scars.

The entire area in between is covered, absolutely, with sterile white bandages. Suddenly I remember everything from the night – or, wait, how much time has passed? – before. The first voice, the one with the most authority, must have been the president. The two other voices, the lackeys, must have been the guards. The last voice, the woman, must have been Belinda. What were they mad about? My brain is still slightly foggy. I can think sluggish thoughts, but anything that's not totally obvious was in sight, but covered with fog. After a while, the fog around the answer clears, and I remember that the president, Tenya, and the guards are mad at Belinda because of my injury. Well, I can't blame them. Add me to the list.

A soft tap on the door, a pause, and then a nurse comes in. When she sees me half-awake, she bustles over to my bed, and says in a rapid-fire pace, "Hello. My name is Lilith. I'm you nurse, but actually, I'm the only nurse here. We are in the Capitol, at the Infirmary. You have a very bad wound, and frankly, I'm not quite sure what it is. I think that the witch does, but she won't say, and the President has forbidden her to leave her rooms. Only certain people are allowed in, and you have to have express permission from the President. Please try not to move much, and don't remove the bandages. So long as you follow my instructions, you should be fine." The nurse's tone was not unkind. She handed me a glass of some sort of thick, syrupy liquid that was a deep reddish-purple. I was careful to take it with my right hand, and to keep my left side still. "Drink this. It will help to numb some of the pain, and it will help you sleep. This won't make you go to sleep, though. It just helps you for when you do. I hear that it tastes like strawberries." I hesitate, and she notices. "Trust me, it's perfectly safe. Here," She takes the glass back, and dips a finger into the liquid. Then the nurse, Lilith, licks her finger. "Hmm. It does taste like strawberries." Lilith handed the cup back to me, and I drank it. "W-what is this?" I croaked. "It's called Aspirinian. That's pronounced as – per – in – e – an. The name comes from something that the people before us used to have, Aspirin. This stuff is slightly different, though. While it relieves some pain, like Aspirin did, it also helps you sleep better. Also, while Aspirin was a solid sort of pill, this is a drink. The last difference is that this tastes better. Strawberries, remember?" She said the last part with a wink. I nodded, then stopped. Lilith was partially right; the pain had lessened, but it was still there, and badly.

Lilith says, somewhat sympathetically, "Well, now I have to change the bandages, so, if you will take this drink . . ." She trails off. "What does that one do?" My voice is still small. "Well, this one will help you fall asleep now, so that you won't have to deal with the pain. See, I'm pretty sure that being exposed to the air, and not having any bindings will make it hurt and make it start bleeding again. Here. I would test this one to prove that it's okay, but then I would fall asleep!" She chuckled. "Oh, right." I took the glass and drained the new liquid, which was a pink color, with a thin consistency of water.

I suddenly felt very drowsy. My eyelids were heavy, and falling asleep suddenly sounded so good. I was tired, after all . . . .


A/N: So, who here recognized the Robin Hood references? You know, the BBC show? I'm watching some of it on YouTube; please don't spoil anything, as I'm watching season 3 episode 1 right now. Literally, right now. See, I'm typing while this window is covered up by the YouTube window. So, apoligizing for spelling and grammer errors, people!

Cheers!

Cami