A/N: Rawr. I'm here! For your reading delight!! Life's a bitch. Since I went to China, I have sooo much stuff to make up! It's so fucking annoying! I have like 3 projects and a whole unit to make up. Rawr. Die bitch die. Anyway, on a brighter note, we're starting short stories in English so that should help my poor writing skills!! So review and help me write better, and with plot ideas perhaps (hint hint). Happy readings!

Let me now take the time, to explain the layout of the Trojan beach. Ok, so the coast is mostly a straight line, with little curve. Along the mid-south side of the beach, is where the Greek camp is. North of the camp, is the kitchen area. It is surrounded by thick underbrush on three sides. On the northern side, there are woods, the place where Alida and Briseis hid the night the Trojans came to rescue them. The land in the wood slopes upwards, and when you emerge from the other end of the woods, there is a cliff, with a rickety trail to the bottom, where there is a small beach, where Alida and Briseis swam that night. There is also another kitchen at the southern end of the beach. But that doesn't show up in the story. The whore house is near the mid-southern part of the encampment, and Agamemnon's tent is just south of that. Achilles' part of the camp is on the northern end, in case you haven't already figured that out. To the west of the camp (aka inland, towards Troy) is the plain of Troy, where the battles happen. You'll need this info for this chapter.

Where were they? She wondered? She hoped this was not in punishment for being so close so Achilles the previous night while he was so obviously disrobed. She prayed to the gods for answers, and for the safety of her friends. Perhaps Alida had not been harmed in any way. She suddenly felt guilty about her stroke of luck last night.

With a wrinkle in her brow, she walked to the sleeping tents, hoping that perhaps they had retired there and for some reason never gotten up. She popped her head in one, but none were within. Dismayed, she sat under the cool shade of a tree, in the secluded clearing on the edge of the woods in which the kitchen area was located. She twiddled with her thumbs, not sure to do with so much time to herself. It was rare that she ever got a free moment, untangled from the endless tasks and errands at hand. And honestly, she had forgotten what it felt like, to be so carefree, and she now found it rather dull. Perhaps three years ago, she wouldn't have been able to stand being busy doing chores for the pleasure of others, but now, it was a way of life. It was either that, or being someone's whore. She still couldn't stand that.

Hours passed by in this manner, her just staring down at her hands, thinking about how drastically her life had truly changed. She chuckled every once in a while, remembering some rather comical moment, or when she realized how ignorant and immature she had been. Her hands, once soft and fragile, were now filled with strength, and were able to do many things they had never been able to do before, though they were still relatively soft, having spent endless hours soaked in soapy water.

Her nails, once perfectly manicured, always, were now untamed, growing to a long but elegantly beautiful length, and they suited her just fine. Her eyelids started to droop in the oppressive heat of the summer. Beads of sweat threatened to roll freely down the sides of her head, so she stood up, determined to go for a swim. It would most likely be hours before the army got back, and she was not foolish enough to attempt to make a meal for thousands all by her lonesome.

She tried to decide which strip of the coast she would take a dip in. The area that she and Alida had been nice she supposed, but it was set against high cliffs, with violent waves constantly crashing onto dark and jagged rocks, and it was now high tide. It would be suicide to go there. But would it truly be safe to go to the beach, where thousands of ships had spent 3 ½ long years resting? What if she met an unfriendly person? No one would be there to save her now.

But she quietly reminded herself that they were all off to battle, the only ones left were the sick and wounded, and what threat did they pose? She could surely outrun any of them. Now having come to a conclusion, she headed for the path that would lead through thick bushes and trees and to the welcoming waters of the Aegean. But as she walked, she noticed a break in the bushes on the other side of the clearing that she was quite certain she had never seen before.

Curious, she strode over to it, and she saw a crude trail, cut free of treacherous branches and thorns, now strewn about on the dirt beneath. Somewhat apprehensive on how the trail came about, she followed it, careful not to step on anything that would harm her feet.

It seemed like eons when she emerged on the other side; she was shocked by what she found. A few Greeks lay on the ground, dead or dieing. She was queasy at the sight of them. Most of them had been stabbed in the stomach and their blood was pooled on or below their lifeless bodies.

Who would commit such a sin? She asked herself. To her, killing was an incomprehensible act, a stupid violent sin to commit. She saw one wheezing for breath, on the verge of death, just barely hanging on. She instinctively rushed to his aid, asking him what had happened.

His eyes were half closed, only exposing the whites of his eyes, but underneath his lids it was apparent that his eyes were rolling aimlessly in the back of his head. She looked on in pity as she saw him slowly start to fade. Blood was oozing from wounds in his thigh and shoulder, and it was all he could do to press his hands on the gashes, fighting a battle that he was so terribly losing.

"What happened?" she asked desperately.

"The Trojans. They came and took them." He choked out.

"Who?! Tell me!" she yelled at the dying soldier.

But he didn't answer. It was too late. He was gone, never to walk on the earth's surface again. She breathed heavily, very disturbed by the scene she had just witnessed. He had died right in front of her, something she had wished never to see again. But she had gotten what she had needed from him.

The Trojans had come. Again. They had taken them, most likely he had been talking about the women. That would explain their strange absence. Hector. She thought. He had come back, hoping to find her, but she hadn't been there. She had been in Achilles' tent, thinking that she was safe. Deep pangs went through her heart, regretting not being there. They hadn't even left Alida. But she's safe, and that's all that matters. Relief swept through her as she realized that her best friend was safe. But now with no help, how was she to support an entire army?

The color drained from her face. Oh gods. The questions they would ask. It was too much for her too bear. They would never accept an excuse like she hid away. Not when everyone else was gone. No, it was not possible. Especially when they found out that it was the Trojans again. She needed safety now.

It was now mid-afternoon, and the sun slanted across the plains of Troy. She looked up from her frenzied thinking, only to see the fierce battle being raged not half a mile from her. There were faint war cries and shouts of death and pain, and she felt feint.

He slashed through anyone in his path with a precision and decisiveness hardly human. None could stand up to the mighty Achilles. Someone charged at him, intent on bringing him down, but with a swift movement the Trojan lay on the ground before him, the life drained from his eyes. He fought his way to the edge of the battlefield, and stepped back for a moment to survey the damage. Though both sides fought valiantly, the Greeks were slowly pushing the Trojans back to the citadel. He smirked.

He went back to killing.

Sigh. I need to do my homework. I hope this chapter amused you. It took me a long time to write. If you didn't understand the placement of things, then go to the top and read the description of the Trojan beach. Review if you care. Till next time. Toodles!

Amester