Russetwolf peers around corner. "Is anyone there? Did you all leave because you were so tired of waiting? SOOO sorry! I just had the worst dry spell of writers block I've ever had! This took me so long, and I will waste no more time dillydallying and will just get to it! Thanx so much!!!
Disclaimer: this is not mine, only a few characters, and the rest is Tamora Pierces'!
Chapter Eight: The Shang Order
Jonathan of Conte, King of the Realm of Tortall, paced back and forth in his study, wringing his hands, Normally a calm man, his behavior worried his wife, Thayet, said to be one of the most beautiful women in the world.
"Sit Jon, please. Raoul will be here any moment."
He took a deep breath and sat down by the fireplace. "This is NOT what I need right now. We aren't even finished cleaning up the mess with Scanra, and now a revolt is forming right under my nose here in Corus!"
Just then, a giant of a man burst into the room. "Jonathan!" Raouls dark eyes portrayed his franticness.
The king leapt to his feet and rushed to his long-time friend. "Raoul! What happened?"
"Ran…from…stables. Right outside…city gates…masked men…captured seven…of my soldiers…and…two sergeants…Left this." He held something in his hand. The king took it and Raoul collapsed in an armchair.
Jonathan stepped closer to the fire, examining the object. Once he realized what it was, he dropped it in surprise and disgust.
"It's a shrunken head!" Thayet shrieked when she saw it hit the floor by the hearth. (Well wouldn't you?). Jonathan composed himself and picked it back up, and then he knelt by the firelight, turning it over and over in his hands, absorbing in its grotesque makeup. That's when he noticed the note tied to the stringy hair.
"Beware Jonathan of Conte
And those loyal to him.
We are the Night and
Its' Nightmares and you
Are the supreme target."
"It's signed 'The Owls'," Raoul mused, glancing over Jon's shoulder.
"What do you think they want?" Thayet asked, thinking aloud.
"Whatever it is, they are persistent." Jonathan replied. "Very, very persistent."
"Oh stop that!" Willow told the fidgety horse. Fall was constantly shifting his weight and twitching his tail while she attempted to comb it. Fall snorted his last defiant remark, and then started to behave.
"You've certainly gotten very far with him," a voice behind her made her jump. She turned to see Brock, leaning against a wooden support pole.
"You all keep saying that, but I don't see it." She turned back around and continued to brush and comb her charge. He got a bit closer—a lot bit closer actually. He came up directly behind her and grabbed another comb. He wrapped both arms around the outside of hers and started to comb the mustangs' tail, too. She stopped for a second, and he noticed.
"Here—like this. Long strokes." He grabbed her small hand in one of his large ones and started combing Falls' tail with her. He bent down to whisper in her ear, "Of course, you know this. I know you know this, but I just thought you might enjoy some company."
She spun to face him and realized how close they were. It was kinda nice…
"NO!" She pushed him back. "I don't want to do this!" She screamed, more to herself than to him. Fall didn't appreciate the yelling, so he decided to take the situation in hand (or hoof).
He turned around and did the first kind thing he'd ever done to her, or anyone for that matter. He nudged her with his nose and affectionately nibbled her shirt. Willow was just so shocked she didn't know what else to do but stand and let him do it. Brock's stupor at the stallion's behavior could have made Mithros Himself chuckle, for Brock literally stood, jaw hanging open, arms dangling, eyes wide with disbelief. Eventually, Willow started to nuzzle back and draped herself onto his neck, tears soaking his mane. This went on for another minute or two, but soon Fall shook his head to remove the crying girl as if to say, Ok, enough. Get back to grooming my tail.
She giggled. Even if she wasn't Daine, she knew she must trust his Horse Sense, however warped it seemed to be sometimes. Willow glanced to see how Brock was faring to her crazy charges conduct. She fell over laughing, but yet, he still stood there, shock having frozen him in place. After composing herself, nothing seemed to snap him out of his trance. That is until she punched him, right in the stomach. He doubled over.
"Jeez……….what was that for?" he groaned.
"I had to call you back to earth somehow. You were off somewhere else, and I wanted to apologize."
"Apologize for yelling at me or socking me in the stomach?"
"Both." She offered her hand for him to shake. He pushed it away and braced himself on the wooden pole again.
"Well, apology not accepted. The only way I can possible do so is if you tell me what I want to know- the whole truth now."
'This AGAIN?' she thought. 'He just won't give up!'
She sighed deeply and thought about it. Then she got an idea.
"I'll tell you what- 13 questions. Whatever you want to know, except if you ask something too personal (and you know what I mean by that) or something I don't know, you have to trust my judgment in not saying anything, Ok?"
He mulled it over "Deal. Where did you learn to K'mir?"
'He doesn't waste time does he?' she reflected. "Hold on." She grabbed his hand and led him to a spare stall where they could sit and talk without being distracted.
"Ok- answer."
"Well, my mother taught me and my brothers when we were growing up. She also taught us Bazhir, Doi, Scanran, Sarain, Maren, Yamani, Carthaki, and the language of the Banjiku, although Grandam may have taught us that. She was Banjiku, and had falcons." 'Whoa, coincidence or what?' She'd never made that connection before. "Now, 12 more questions."
"Where did she learn those?"
"On her travels. By the time she was three, she left home and only went back one time after that. She was seeing her mom and dad at Midwinter, and then she left for the last time. I don't know if she ever intended to go back and never will. She died when we were six, well, five and a half actually, and she was only 29 when she died in her last battle. 11 left."
"Battle?"
"My mother was Rachel Stonecutter, the last Shang Falcon. 10 left."
"Whoa…hey, that last one wasn't a question!"
"Was there a question mark on the end of the statement?"
"Well, yea…"
"Then it was a question." He paused, thinking.
"She really was Shang? That's how you learned to fight?"
"Yes and yes. I not only fight with my hands but with any weapon, save a Yamani glaive. I would love to learn though. 8 left- that last one was two."
He gave her a sour glare. "Who was your dad?"
She looked away. "I…I don't know. It could have been anyone I guess, although mother hinted that he was from the far west." He looked at her suspiciously, but then accepted her answer.
"What is your favorite color?" He chose a more lighthearted question to ask.
"Yellow. 6 left"
"How come you keep working with that horse of yours? You and I both know that, given the chance, he wouldn't hesitate to kill you, or anyone for that matter."
"I guess because I know that inside of him somewhere is a gentle creature. You saw yourself today that he has some compassion. 5."
"That's true. Well, maybe you'll prove us wrong and truly break him. I never thought it could take months to break a horse, and would say that if it took that long, it's not the horse; it's the lousy trainer. That's before I met Fall, and you." He looked at her, love swelling in his eyes. She saw it, and looked away. It felt nice to be loved, but his love wasn't the love she desired. She didn't know why she desired it from him, but all she ever wanted, she found in Bowen, though, she'd never say that to anyone, not even Ema.
"5 questions Brock. If you don't use them soon, I'll make this little contract void and you'll lose them forever."
"Fine, fine. Well, lets see…What is your favorite thing in the whole world?"
"To do or to eat or see or what?"
"Just what you like best, over every thing else?"
"Um… well, I always fancied reading, I suppose. Either that or practicing my archery or fighting skills."
"From what I hear from River, you hardly need practice in the archery field." Brock crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her expectantly.
She blushed. "River exaggerates, I assure you. Besides, Wind's better'n me. 4 left, now."
"If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?"
Wow. No one had ever asked her anything like that before. She wasn't sure what to say, until one place pushed it's way into her mind. "I would love to go to the Royal Gardens at the Imperial Palace. Emperor Kaddar has an affinity for a sweet smelling southern flower called 'honeysuckle', and it is just as pretty as anything, especially this time of year. I remember when I would sneak off from chores to go sit on the outside wall of the gardens, just to smell the scent. It was like smelling the Goddess Herself." Willow fell into a daydream, but quickly snapped back into reality. "3 left."
Brock stared at her for a few minutes, contemplating on what to ask next, then said, "Tell me where you were born, what you did there that seems to be so terrible, and how you came here."
"I…I was born in Carthak. My mother, and I bet my father, weren't Carthaki, as we don't look it. After my mother died, my bothers and I went to live with Grandam, an elderly friend of Mothers. She took care of us, but soon ran low on enough money to support all of us, so, right after our sixth birthday, we got jobs. Unfortunately, the only thing that anyone would hire us for was…slavery. Grandam didn't know about it, otherwise she wouldn't 've let us, and by the time she did discover what we had done, it was too late. We were signed property.
"We went to the Dyghita House, Home of Lord Untird and Lady Sheera. The Lord was very kind to us, and gave us to his wife as a gift. She was terribly cruel. The cook, Miztoo, took pity on us and let us sleep in the pantry instead of the back porch where Lady Sheera had us. We ate little, mostly the scraps that Miztoo could spare, after feeding herself and her two sons, both three. Whenever Lord could take her away for a day, that meant a day off for us, her house slaves. We would then go to Grandam and she would teach us Banjiku, or about falcons, or she would sit and watch us practice, never convinced we had tried our hardest, and ever ready to make us do our exercises again.
"Then one day, Grandam passed into the hands of the Dark God, and a week later, Lord joined Him as well. Lady was left to us, and us to her, for four years. Next thing we knew, about 9 months ago, Emperor Kaddar passes his law- no more slavery. As quick as lightning, jobs are very scarce and we are down to our last provisions. We get what we can from Miztoo, now a paid cook, and head to the docks. A small vessel bound for Tyra takes us on, and we learn all there is to know about small fishing boats. The captain sails that thing all around the Inland Sea until setting into port in Tyra. We take on all kinds of jobs, traveling for months, just getting by on the skin of our teeth, until a caravan strikes a deal with us. They let us at their food stores freely, and let us have place in the wagons at night and they take us to Corus. This wasn't charity of course. The wagon leader was hardly a charitable man. We paid two silver nobles, four months worth of savings, and he wanted more, but Wind would have none of it and told him if tried to lay a hand on me again, he would loose it." Willow paused for a minute, swallowing the bad memories. Brock realized what she had meant when she said "he wanted more". He had tried to take advantage. Mainly he was surprised she didn't tear him limb from limb herself. "Anyway, we got into Corus, robbed 'em blind of bread, cheese, jerky, and apples, then explored the city. That night we met Daine and Numair, and, well, you know the rest."
She let him digest that epic for a while whilst she thought about all they had been through in the past year. It was quite a lot. "You have 2 more left." She heard a sob, glanced around, and realized Brock was crying. "It's ok, Brock, really. I got over it, River and Wind got over it; there's no reason to feel sad."
He looked at her, respect and awe brimming in his eyes; or was that just the tears? "You're such a tough little soldier." He replied, a bit comically. She realized it was all a joke.
"You fiend! I…I…"
"Am stunned by my Player talents?" he offered.
"Am annoyed by your child-like games! How old are you now? 3? 4? Or were you just born this past Midsummer?" This prompted a question for Brock.
"When is your birthday?" He asked, absentmindedly, snapping back into his serious mindset. 'He has more ups and downs than a woman!' she thought. Willow noticed that he now just concentrated on one spot in the floor, strenuously thinking about something else instead of his small prank.
"In the heart of Wolf Moon, during Wolf Winter, actually. Even though I have never seen a wolf before. Don't have many in Carthak.
"Ok- last one, Brock."
He sat and thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it, until he had an idea. "I want this last one to be a request. I want you to show off some of your skills in the fighting arts."
"Ok."
"In the practice courts."
"Ok."
"Right now."
She gulped. The pages and squires were in the courts right now. They were open to anyone else, of course, but she had had more than just one run in with the noble's sons. She never fought, either; just let them think she was a weakling girl, unfit for "men's work", as they so gallantly phrased it. More than once, they had left her to look after their mounts, which is not part of the hostlers' job—"Th' lads look afte' they own mounts", Stefan had said, "Ye'd best take care ov tha' beast ov yers."
Then again, this sounded an awful lot like a dare—more a dare than a request anyway. How could she possibly pass up that? Plus, now, maybe, the nobles would show her a bit more respect, especially if she showed up on Fall and let them have a go at him.
"You know what Brock—I'll do you one better. Will I not only do that, but I'll put on a small show with Fall. We've been working on a little something, and I think it will be good for him to show off a bit."
She got up and left him alone in the straw, speechless. If there was something she could do to set him up on his ears, she'd do it.
He scrambled after her, and caught her at the saddle wall (you know the one with all the saddles hanging of it). She was bridling the monster, and he didn't even fidget. She placed the saddle on his back, and he barely moved. She mounted and he just snorted acceptance. He watched her put him through his paces, and he observed as she winked and hopped the fence. He raced after, never knowing everyone else (her brothers, Bowen, Kit, and even Ema, who came down to see how they were faring at midday, you know in case they were hungry…who am I kidding? You and I both know that she was only there to see River. Sigh…) was following behind an arms reach behind.
She reached the practice courts and was galloping Fall in the large practice ring set aside for pages learning to ride. After she saw that she had the attention of some of the nobles, she leaned down to whisper something in Falls ear. That's when he shook his head, and picked up the pace. She started to show off what had resulted in nearly brained her more than once. While she was traveling from Tyra, the trio lived with a group of Bazhir tribesmen. They were adopted by a group called Coiled Snake, and were given lessons in the ways of the tribe. It had only been a two-week stay, but the triplets had learned many things about desert survival, the ways of the tribe, and…trick riding.
She swung in and out of the saddle, stood on his back without holding on to anything, and even had Fall do some fancy walking. She attracted many onlookers and spectators. Many were awestruck, but some were skeptical.
"Any halfwit can do that!" one blonde boy yelled. She pulled Fall up right in from of him and dismounted.
"Really? Then you try it, halfwit. See if you can live up to your word." She cocked an eyebrow like Bowen and handed him the reigns.
"You ride that pony Jack!" his dark-hair companion cheered. They doubted her. They had before; these were some of the nobles she'd had problems with.
He started to mount Fall.
River ran at Brocks heels. They had all been eavesdropping on their conversation up in the loft and knew when it had taken a turn for the worse. It had started when River saw Willow lead Brock to an empty stall. Being her big brother and protective, he wanted to know what was what. Then, they just started talking. River heard all about his sister, some stuff he didn't know. When she told about Grandam, Wind looked away and River heard sniffling. When she told about them being sold to slavery, as volunteers, neither River nor Wind would look into the eyes of everyone that were staring at them. When she told about whom their mom was, they beamed with pride.
When she started talking about " a small show" with her beast, they (her brothers) knew what it was. They knew how she had been hurting herself more than usual lately. Basically, they teamed up on her and threatened to tell everyone about the time she chased about six Bazhir teenage boys across the desert on a horse while they were on foot, all because they peeked on her as she was washing in an oasis. Mind, she wore just a burnoose while this occurred, all she had time to throw on before she started screaming defiant war cries. Anyway, they had finally got it out of her what she was up to, and, although they didn't like it, they didn't dare try to stop her.
They watched as she put Fall through his paces, then wink and jump the fence. The group raced to meet her at the practice ring just as she offered the reigns to a toe-headed young squire, who obviously didn't know what he was getting himself into. He climbed over the fence, and that was when Fall realized his Girl was no longer on his back. He started to gallop mischievously, and, unfortunately for him, the squire already had the reigns in his hands and was halfway in the saddle. Fall raced around that circle a full three times before the squire could get on top of him. He tried his best to stop him, or at least slow him, but it was all in vain. Fall started bucking and kicking, something he hadn't done in weeks. The poor boy never stood a chance. Neither did the next three that tried, but when Willow had had enough, and took him in hand, he fell gentle and serene. She tethered him to a fencepost and climbed to the other side with her audience. River and Wind jogged over to her and both gave her an "older brother" look. She was misbehaving, and she knew it, but she was just enjoying this far too much.
"Now for some fun," she grinned at them menacingly. After that, she went up to one of the pages and asked to see their staff.
"Knock yourself out. Do you even know how to use that thing girlie?" he mocked, even though she was a full two years older than him. She laughed evilly.
River grabbed her arm, but quickly let go. "Listen…just, just don't hurt anyone. We both know how you are." She nodded, eyes gleaming with grim intention.
Willow walked out to an open area so she wouldn't hit anyone whilst she practiced. At first she loosened up by doing some stretches—arm press ups, sit ups, bending and twisting to warm her muscles that had been inactive to this for pretty much the whole time they had been at the Palace. She stood and picked up the staff. The first thing she did was a standard drill that Mother had them do when they were four, with small sticks. She whirled it around her head, back and in front of her. She started slowly, but as her body remembered better, she picked up the pace. The staff suddenly was impossible to spot, as she kept it in constant motion. Then, as fast as lightning, she switched to her left, and rotated it the opposite way, but she never lost her speed. Then, she stopped.
Next, she started a "block and hit" drill, starting slowly and picking up speed and momentum. She didn't end up going as fast, but these motions were far more fluid and would be harder to block. She began to feel a bit winded, but knew that these silly nobles would be sweating by know if they were in her shoes. 'I forgot how fun this was. I shall come down here more often and do this.' Like before, she switched hands without slowing a hair. 'Thanks for the practice hours Grandam.' She sighed inwardly.
After she got bored with the staff, she switched to a sword. She didn't start the sword until right before her mother died, but Grandam filled in the holes. (How Grandam knew about fencing she could never figure out, but she knew very well, and taught them soundly.) She did a similar drill as with the staff, but her sword skills were even rustier than her staff skills, so it was a slower start. But, eventually, she picked up the pace and then switched, flawlessly. The butterfly sweep motion she always had trouble with, and it was the cause of her growing headache now. Wind saw her problem—she wasn't rotating her wrist correctly—and stepped up to help her. He borrowed another sword and showed her the flaw. Then, together, they did the exercise in rhythm.
The squires and pages were already impressed when it was just Willow, but when Wind joined her, in perfect unison, they were astonished. River's hands itched to grab a sword. Next to the daggers, fencing was his forte; Grandam had said he must have held a sword when he was born; Willow a bow, and Wind had just his fists. He could beat anyone, any age, at any time, he was that good.
Anyway, River was fidgeting and kept wringing his hands. Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask the blond squire if he could borrow his sword.
"Keep your hands off, Stable Filth!" he spat.
"Here, take mine. Jack forgets his manners far too often," said a small boy, who lifted a sword that seemed bigger than him. His flaming red hair and green eyes betrayed him as a son of Pirates Swoop. Of course, River didn't know that. He just accepted the sword with a broad smile and sincere thank you. The squire sneered at the page, a first year, but did nothing. The page had proven himself better than the oldest squire, being reared by who his infamous parents were and where his infamous home was.
River stepped out to join his siblings, but outshined them swiftly. All his work with his daggers aided him in fencing, or was it the other way around? Well, anyway, he caught speed quickly and held it; he switched hands and complicated the exercise seamlessly. Then, without warning, he threw the sword in the air, did a "kick and punch" drill, caught his sword and finished the exercise. He stopped and was hardly breathing hard.
"Show off," Willow muttered, finishing her drill. Wind soon stopped and together, they returned the swords and began the most amazing thing. It was a pattern dance. Actually, that's how they first learned it, by dancing it. Mother taught them the steppes to the dance, and then as their fighting skill progressed, she replaced the steps with kicks, punches, and blocks. They twirled around, equal distance apart, kicking without hitting one another, punched into a circle and outside of it, and then rippled punches to each person and back, blocking as well, and always maintaining that exact distance. This was Grandam's favorite thing for them to do, just because it gave her such joy to watch them do something so mystical together. They used to hate it, but after Grandam passed, it comforted them. They could feel her presence while they did it, like she was nearby watching.
There was total silence in the crown, as they were so mystified, there were no words anyone could say. It wasn't that difficult for them to do, but since they picked up speed, and were doing other things before, all three came out of it sweating.
"Uh…could we see you try your hand at…um, archery?" Brock stuttered. It was what Willow shined at, and he wanted her to show up these noble males.
About seven pages and squires offered them bows once they got to the archery field. They gladly accepted three, River a smaller one since his archery needed more improvement, and Wind and Willow got two larger ones, both very tight and looked too big for both of them. But when they put that first arrow to the string, then loosed, it was amazing. All three arrows hit the bulls-eye; Wind and Willows hit the very center and went halfway through. Without moving from their location, they set three more arrows through the bulls-eye of three different targets. They barely took any time in between shooting one arrow to the next and aiming was done in their minds, not their eyes. Aiming was the easiest part for them. There was so much more to their talent, but unfortunately there were no immortals attacking them just then, or there were no animals, rabid and savaging, and, of course it wasn't at night.
Willow wasn't that disappointed, because she had the sneaking suspicion that their skills would have to be used all too soon.
When they returned the bows and other weapons, they went back over to the riding ring. There, two adults met them. 'Uh-oh', the stable hands thought in unison. They had interrupted lessons for the nobles, and they all wondered what would happen to Rachel Stonecutter's children.
"Hello. You three must be the cause of all the commotion. See Hakuin, this is why I don't want us to leave the boys to their exercises alone." an older woman told her counterpart. She looked extremely fit, all muscle and grace. Her hair was gray and curls, cropped short. The other was a lengthy Yamani, with dancing eyes, button nose and full lips. His hair was raven and tresses, and he stroked the nose of Fall.
"Fine, fine Eda. You were right, I was wrong, the whole Shang Alliance shall bow to you." He retorted. "You girl—what is his name?" he asked about Fall.
"Falcons Fall. He looks like a horse I saw when we were in Tyra, where my mother fought her last fight."
"And who was your mother, little one?" asked the woman.
"Rachel Stonecutter, ma'am," all three replied.
"The Falcon? Rachel had kids?" the woman asked the man. He slid off the fence and stared blanking into space. "Hakuin? Hakuin?" She shook him. She still stood, entranced by his thoughts.
The woman he had called Eda looked at them, her eyes pleading. Willow took it upon herself to help. "Fall!" she called him to attention, and then she whistled. He reared and gave an earsplitting whinny.
The man Hakuin jerked back, startled by the sudden excitement.
"Sir, are you ok?" River asked.
"Um, yea…who did you say your mother was?" He wrung his hands.
"Rachel Stonecutter. She was the Shang Falcon."
"She was one of my students, in your year, right Hakuin?" the woman asked, hitting the shoulder of the man. He nodded. "Hello dears. I am Eda Bell of the Shang, the Wildcat to be exact. This mute is Hakuin Seastone, the Shang Horse. We both knew your mother. She died, what was it?, ten years ago, in Tyra, wasn't it?"
"Um, eleven years next Midsummer. Yes ma'am, in Tyra. She left and about two weeks later, we received a carrier bird from her with a death note. She knew she wasn't going to make it out of the battle alive, and sent a note to tell us goodbye." Willow explained, feeling the wetness of tears on her cheeks. Why was she crying? She shed her tears over her barely-known mother years ago. And for goodness sake—she was fifteen, far too old to be carrying on like this!
Despite this, it gave her comfort to know that behind her, her brothers were sniffling. Ema sidled up on Rivers left and grabbed his hand. The man, Hakuin, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and held out his hand as if he was going to wipe away a tear off her face, but he speedily composed himself and cleared his throat.
"Don't feel sad, young ones. Your mother, Rachel, knew what she got herself into when she took Falcon rank. We all know that we may not live to see our children grow up and have their own. Heck, some of us don't live to have children! Rachel was very blessed." He gazed into Willow's violet eyes, his dark ones kind. "Anyway," he looked away at her siblings, then the ground, "we wanted to talk about your fighting skills. Now that we know who your mother is, it explains a lot, though your fencing technique is not quite Shang method."
"Well, Sir, that is because Mother only started to teach us fencing before she was called to aid the Tyran king. We were only five and a half, and I guess Mother thought, before she left, that we'd have time when she got back. Only she never got to return. Our guardian, Sari al Hibenh, only we called her Grandam, she taught us most of our sword craft, along with a few other tools that have proven to be useful." River answered.
"Such as?" the woman, no, Eda, asked. River looked to see if she was mocking him, but her eyes were serious, as well as curious.
"Well, the language of the Banjiku tribes people, for one. She also taught us about birds, predator kinds mostly, but the occasional robin or sparrow, or even colorful southern finch could worm its way into a lesson."
"I see…well, children, if it's ok with you, we would like to instruct you in the fighting arts, in your free time. I understand that you work in the stables?" they nodded their heads. "Good, then I can talk to Stefan. He owes me a favor, what after getting a Bazhir merchant to give him a better deal on some horses, particularly wild stallion, untamed and unbreakable, or so he claimed. I see the merchant was wrong, but he also seemed a bit crazy, what with calling me Gary and asking how my sick mother was and if I thought sending her a pinecone covered in clay and baked in a cave in the Desert with seventeen rattlesnakes might be of any use to her. Insane like a madman, he was…" Hakuin fell into a memory, only to be awakened by Eda elbowing him in the ribs.
"He's not always like this—well, actually, yes, he is just like this. Ignore me." Eda winked; Willow grinned.
"Well, I will talk to Stefan about this, if you wish and contact you by next Sunsday?" Eda offered. They nodded vigorously. They loved the way their mother taught, using repetition to get a lesson to stick, and stick well. Mayhap these Shang warriors taught the same way. And to learn more fighting! WOW! What a day…
Willow led the way back to the stables, leading Fall. She put him away, and for the first time in years, they returned to their rooms to talk about their mother.
Sheesh! I had no idea how long that would take me! Anyway- please have patience. I know that the plot seems to be nonexistent, but I will get to more of it in the next chapter. Promise! A lot of new characters right? I know… Well, I'm sorry it ended abruptly like it did, but I am about to fall asleep and really wanna post, so bear with me people, bear with me. Perhaps, with a LOT of luck, I can fashion another chapter out of my jumbled ideas and get it to you by the start of next semester, but don't hold your breath. I say this not to be mean, I just don't want you to gets your hopes too high, ok? Thanx…
Reviews- Thanks so much guys! You have no idea how mush better I feel after posting a few days with no response to suddenly have a review! It lifts my soul, it does!
Yumi- that has got to be the sweetest thing ANYONE has ever said to me, so next chapter, and this one (I feel generous) are dedicated to you! THANX!
Slytherin Chick- Wow, thank you. I feel loved today…
Night-'n'-Day- Gracias! You guys are awesome.
Raquel- of course, this goes without saying, but thank you. I am gonna call you when i get the chance, but I think you may be out of town now, so I am gonna stop talking to you since you can't read it!
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The Dark Lady- I'll try! She is very slippery though…I don't know what I got myself into when I created her. Thanx for the review!
Beta reader? Anyone interested? Anyone? Please?? (crickets) ok guys, I am asking to better the reading experience for others! Throw me a frickin' bone here! (please?????)
Well, I'll try ververyveryveryvery hard to post and thanx so much!!