A/N: Ack! Over a month since an update! School must be tougher than I
think. Oh, well, deal with that later. Read and enjoy!
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The footsteps stopped a few yards away from where the girl crouched. She closed her eyes and thought, "Oh, please don't find me!"
The sound of steps started again, slow and sure. They seemed to get impossibly close to her and then stopped suddenly at the sound of beeping. She heard the man mutter and a sharp clip as the man took something off his belt.
The teen took a breath. A pager. She had been saved by a pager.
As the man called someone and muttered under his breath, the realized that from her crouched position her legs had started to fall asleep. She listened intently to what the man was doing and slowly shifted her weight, hoping that the broken glass under her feet wouldn't make a sound against the rough, uncared for pavement.
She froze again when the man ended his conversation with a sharp, "report back to me later."
She stayed perfectly still as the man took a few strides over to the other side of the dumpster and slammed the lid open suddenly.
She clinched her hands into fists. "Oh, Gods, he knows I'm here," she thought. "Please, just let him leave."
The man slammed the lid shut and started to walk out of the alleyway. The echoing of footsteps died away, but she dared not stick her head around the corner to check if he was really gone. She might have thought that he had left, except for the fact that she could sense him. He was standing there, waiting. The feel of him in the back of her mind died away as the man turned and walked away.
*************************
She looked down at the dark, empty alley. The run and hide game had ended hours ago, but for some reason, here she was; standing on the top of a eight-story building, staring down at the place where one of her nightmares had become real just hours before. The only difference between what happened in this reality and that dream world? It hadn't ended the same.
"He'll be coming back," she said aloud to no one, expecting an answer.
But no reply came. No silent voice in her head, no mystical man invading her mind with thoughts of prophecies and dreams long past. The reply of silence was the only thing that greeted her ears.
She smiled slightly. "Finally," she thought, "silence."
The voice hadn't been entering her thoughts for long, but it had never left a statement, silent or spoken, like hers unanswered in quite some time.
The silence was deafening.
************************
He watched as the prophet lighted a few more candles and carefully placed each into its own holder.
"Why do you not answer her?"
The prophet turned, and slowly acknowledged the existence of his only visitor. "You need to learn, boy," he paused and took a ragged breath from beneath his concealing hood, "that there are some things that she needs to do on her own."
"She's just a kid right now." He shook his head. "I think this has happened to fast. She shouldn't be faced with this right now!"
The prophet let out a sigh and shook his head slowly. "She is fifteen. Whether or not you believe she can handle these things at this point in her life is not for you to decide."
"And who is supposed to decide?"
There was a long pause. "Defiance, boy. You are just as defiant as she."
The man clinched his jaw. "I do not believe that this is the right time in her life to be faced with-him!"
"Hmm, yes." The prophet moved painfully to a small alter on the opposite wall of the cavern. "Nevertheless, that is your belief. It is not for you to decide if she is faced with her heritage, or not."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The footsteps stopped a few yards away from where the girl crouched. She closed her eyes and thought, "Oh, please don't find me!"
The sound of steps started again, slow and sure. They seemed to get impossibly close to her and then stopped suddenly at the sound of beeping. She heard the man mutter and a sharp clip as the man took something off his belt.
The teen took a breath. A pager. She had been saved by a pager.
As the man called someone and muttered under his breath, the realized that from her crouched position her legs had started to fall asleep. She listened intently to what the man was doing and slowly shifted her weight, hoping that the broken glass under her feet wouldn't make a sound against the rough, uncared for pavement.
She froze again when the man ended his conversation with a sharp, "report back to me later."
She stayed perfectly still as the man took a few strides over to the other side of the dumpster and slammed the lid open suddenly.
She clinched her hands into fists. "Oh, Gods, he knows I'm here," she thought. "Please, just let him leave."
The man slammed the lid shut and started to walk out of the alleyway. The echoing of footsteps died away, but she dared not stick her head around the corner to check if he was really gone. She might have thought that he had left, except for the fact that she could sense him. He was standing there, waiting. The feel of him in the back of her mind died away as the man turned and walked away.
*************************
She looked down at the dark, empty alley. The run and hide game had ended hours ago, but for some reason, here she was; standing on the top of a eight-story building, staring down at the place where one of her nightmares had become real just hours before. The only difference between what happened in this reality and that dream world? It hadn't ended the same.
"He'll be coming back," she said aloud to no one, expecting an answer.
But no reply came. No silent voice in her head, no mystical man invading her mind with thoughts of prophecies and dreams long past. The reply of silence was the only thing that greeted her ears.
She smiled slightly. "Finally," she thought, "silence."
The voice hadn't been entering her thoughts for long, but it had never left a statement, silent or spoken, like hers unanswered in quite some time.
The silence was deafening.
************************
He watched as the prophet lighted a few more candles and carefully placed each into its own holder.
"Why do you not answer her?"
The prophet turned, and slowly acknowledged the existence of his only visitor. "You need to learn, boy," he paused and took a ragged breath from beneath his concealing hood, "that there are some things that she needs to do on her own."
"She's just a kid right now." He shook his head. "I think this has happened to fast. She shouldn't be faced with this right now!"
The prophet let out a sigh and shook his head slowly. "She is fifteen. Whether or not you believe she can handle these things at this point in her life is not for you to decide."
"And who is supposed to decide?"
There was a long pause. "Defiance, boy. You are just as defiant as she."
The man clinched his jaw. "I do not believe that this is the right time in her life to be faced with-him!"
"Hmm, yes." The prophet moved painfully to a small alter on the opposite wall of the cavern. "Nevertheless, that is your belief. It is not for you to decide if she is faced with her heritage, or not."