So I apologize for the long wait. I started college recently, which has been absolute hell on me thus far, and I really haven't gotten much time to write. In fact, I really should be studying for Public Speaking, aka My Imminent Downfall. Most of this was written with my first quiz in that class looming. If all of a sudden my storytelling seems to become a bit more lighthearted, the test was likely easy. If it seems a bit down, it was as I expect it to be—one of the worst experiences of my life. More on this after the chapter is complete.

Til then: thanks to all who reviewed! It was greatly appreciated, trust me—what'd I get, six reviews? You've no idea how happy I was the following week.

Anyways, enjoy!

Switch

Ch. 10: The Escape

YFWE

The woman slammed the door behind her as she entered her home, a dejected frown spread across her face. Almost immediately, a short, balding man shuffled to her side, sliding off her coat for her. "How did it go, dear?" came his nasally-whine of a voice, as he stared up at his wife with a hint of concern.

"Well, I thought it had gone well, Franz," replied Marnie Stewart. "And yet… I am not satisfied."

"Will you stop calling me Franz? My name is Robert, and we've been married for ten years."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Franz. I went into that safehouse with the intent of striking fear into my enemies, and instead I came out looking like a crazy woman. This is not what I wanted. Not at all."

"What happened?" Robert asked.



"I'll explain to you later," said Marnie. "Just leave me be for now." She stared off toward a nearby room. "I gotta go bake something."

Robert slowly slid his hands around his wife's waist, to where the strings of her apron came together. "Oh, can't it wait? How about you tell me what happened…" he began to fumble with the strings, trying to untie the apron.

Within seconds, Robert was on the floor, staring up in shock at the otherwise not-so-imposing woman, who had her hand on his forearm. "NEVER," she said, "touch the apron."

"O-okay, I'm s—"

"Did I ever tell you how my first and second husbands died, Franz?"

"N…no…"

"Extremely unfortunate accidents," her eyes narrowed. "And oh, how shattered I was—I do hope that you don't take the same road as them…."

She relinquished her hold on Robert's arm and walked into the kitchen, leaving her husband to stare at her in disbelief in the front room.

"Filthy creatures!" she screamed as she threw a few pots out onto a central table. She added to this a few ingredients—flour, eggs, baking powder among them—and feverishly began to cook. "My revenge will come soon enough…"

Minutes passed before it was evident that Marnie Stewart was making more dough. She sat for another minute, however, staring at the mixture, as if contemplating its very existence and makeup. "Needs a bit more weight this time, I'd say," she said. "We'll up the ingredients—double the input, double the output. And then, make the portions a bit larger, yes, that will do."



Soon there were bowls of dough scattered all throughout the kitchen. In fact, more, it seemed, than what she had possessed when she last met the dragons and the Huntsclan. And still, still, she did not seem satisfied. "A few more 'special ingredients' could be useful," she said to herself, and reached under the table into a tiny cupboard, from which she pulled a handful of small vials. She poured the contents of each vial into a different bowl. And then, she began to stir the dough once again, kneading it, shaping it, forming it….

Whilst the dough on the table sat unattended, finally finished, Marnie's attention turned to the window nearest her, a window that was placed in the direction of the battle from which she had just came. "Soon," she said quietly. "Soon they will know of my power. Soon, dragons, the Huntsclan, and magical creatures alike shall fear the name of Marnie Stewart. I shall see to it myself."

(end)

Rose awoke to the sound of talking—two people, it seemed. She recognized one immediately as the Huntsmaster, her uncle. The other had a deeper voice, one that Rose truly could not pinpoint. She concluded quickly, however, that it was one of her uncle's colleagues in the Huntsclan, perhaps another huntsmaster from a different regiment of the Huntsclan. At any rate, their words were rushed, as if much needed to be done. And, thought Rose, they seemed to be right outside her door.

She was in something resembling a holding cell—yes, that was it. She had seen such a cell before during her tenure with the Huntsclan: she had taken a prisoner there once. But she herself had never been a prisoner by ANY means.

"—don't care how 'energetic' he may be, the boy does not belong here!" snapped the voice Rose knew to belong to the Huntsmaster.

"Be reasonable, Othello. He is not of their kind anymore!" came the other voice.

"But he was. He was."



Rose slid from the cot that she had been placed in and tiptoed towards the door, listening even more intently than before. She placed her hands on the door and turned her right ear against it, praying silently that no one would decide to open it.

"Who's to say, then, that he cannot revert back to his original form at sometime in the future?" said the Huntsmaster. "Or that he still feels some sympathies towards his former kind? He can't be trusted, Kaustubh."

"Then what do you plan on doing with him?" Kaustubh asked. "At the very least, tell me this!"

"Well, not that it concerns you, but I was fortunate enough to gather some highly useful information from the dragons themselves."

"Oh?" said Kaustubh interestedly.

"Why yes, it so happens that further into the cave in which all of this began, there are tiny gemstones, which can act as an antidote to our little 'problem.' But of course, I shall have to get there before the dragons do."

"Why is this? I am confused, Othello; do you not desire the gemstones for the same reason as the dragons? The outcome will be the same, regardless of who gets there first!"

"Now, that is not entirely true," said the Huntsman sinisterly.

"Do explain, then!"



"You see, my brother," the Huntsmaster started again, "once we possess the gemstones, we shall be able to switch Jake and Rose back. Jake knows this, and I am sure as well that Rose knows this is imminent.

"The problem is that the both of them are notably good friends. My fear is that, even when Rose is switched back, she will still be drawn to him, and will oppose me once more."

He's got that right, thought Rose.

"Therefore, I shall make it my immediate priority to dispose of Jake as soon as he has become a dragon again. For then, the true American Dragon will finally be vanquished, and Rose will see no reason to disobey me!"

Rose gasped and for a split second thought of opening the door and hurrying off to tell Jake. But the door was likely locked, and to boot, her uncle and Kaustubh were right outside.

"So… kill the American Dragon once he has been returned to his right state?"

"This is the plan."

"What does Jake know?" asked Kaustubh.

"As far as he knows, we are going to the cave to destroy the gemstones. He thinks that we will not be changing him back, that he will be staying as part of the Huntsclan for all of time. He's quite eager to carry out this plan as well… it almost pains me to have to lie to him."

There were footsteps as the Huntsmaster and Kaustubh walked away. "Almost," he heard her uncle repeat, followed by laughter from both men.

Once she knew they were a good distance away, Rose reached down and grasped the door handle. She did not figure that it would be open, but it was sure worth a try—she needed to return to Grandpa, and to Fu, and to Sun! They needed to know of the Huntsclan's plan. And furthermore, if she was unable to open it, there were always her dragon powers….

But to her surprise, the door clicked open without any sort of resistance whatsoever. She had never been locked in to begin with!

It had not been two seconds before she was in her dragon form, soaring through the halls of the Huntsclan's secret base. She was lucky, she thought to herself, that she knew the place—it would be far easier to escape.

She rounded a corner, knowing this to be a direct shoot to an exit. Up ahead, she watched as uniformed Huntsclan members flung themselves from rooms, facing the approaching dragon. Apparently, someone had discovered that their 'captive' had been freed.

But they were no problem for Rose, no problem at all. She had become quite good with breathing fire, and shot an imposing fireball through the hall, scattering the Huntsclan and creating, once more, a clear path. The fireball smashed into the door at the end of the hallway, and clear light shone inside the corridor—she was almost out alive. She folded her wings close to her body so that she could fit within the confines of the doorframe, and, with ease, shot outside into the welcoming fresh air.

Immediately she spun to her left, as she knew this to be the direction of Grandpa's shop. She did hope they would be there… she had plenty to tell them and they would have to act fast. Jake's life depended on it.

She did not look back once—a mistake, as it would turn out. For if she had turned to look back at the base, she would've seen, standing in the doorway, a black-haired boy, the boy that she was trying to save.



Jake watched the dragon soar amongst the clouds, seeing her outline become fainter and fainter as she moved further away from the base. His mouth curved into a sly grin. He turned from the sight he had beheld and began to go back inside, uttering as he went: "Exactly as we planned."

END CHAPTER

What does this mean?!

I'll be back next time (hopefully much sooner) to let you know.

In the meantime, I have to go take this Public Speaking test now. Wish me luck! Read and review, as always!

Yours in fiction,

YFWE