A/N: Hey there, this is my first story so I'm just giving it a go! The idea
of Shang Warriors and the character Eda Bell are Tamora Pierce's, as are
some other little things. Also if you like this story or just Tamora
Pierce's stories in general, you should check out the author
"thekeeperofwords," as she writes stuff like this too. As always, reviews
and feedback are excellent, do you like the name Kitriana? Is the idea/plot
of the story good? Stuff like that, thanks a bunch! This is just the
beginning, and Eda doesn't come in yet!
Oh, and I changed my name from Goodnplenty014 to PaneraBread.
The door slammed behind Kitriana Moores, a strangled yell after her.
"Don't you ever come back! Your as bad as your mother, when she left it was her fault I got stuck with you!"
Running to the stable, Kit looked back over her shoulder at the house. Her father was drunk again, like he was most of the time. He had never treated her or her mother well, and it was all Kit could do to stay behind when her mother ran off. Her mother had told her that after she left, it would get better, and that it wasn't Kit's fault that her father did what he did. Just to be safe, Kit had packed some food, clothes, and the few silvers she had managed to save over the years in an old saddlebag, and was prepared to leave as soon as she couldn't take it anymore.
Coming to the stable, Kit skidded to a halt. It was only a matter of seconds before she was up the hayloft ladder.
"Come on, come on!" Kit grumbled as she felt around in the dark for her pack.
"Looking for this?" said a voice from below. Kit froze. Her heart in her throat, she peered down into the stable below. Her father was standing there, teetering on the spot, her pack in one hand, and a bottle in the other.
"Thot you cud get way from me, eh?" he said, drunkenly. "I'm onta you, missie. I saw you come in heer and get pack these heer packs. I came an got em tho, I'm to smart fer you!"
Something inside Kit snapped. Maybe it was watching him stand there, like he owned her, or maybe it was knowing that all the pain that she and her mother went through was his fault.
With a roar like a tiger, Kit leapt down from the hayloft straight on top of her father. He put up the bottle to smash it in her face, but somehow Kit knew what to do. She used her hand to slam the bottle into her palm instead of her face, and aimed her other fist into his stomach. He fell over, winded, with her on top of him.
"All this is your fault, you're the reason mom left, not me!" she screamed, punching him everywhere she could. She was finally letting go of all the rage she had held onto for years.
Her father had regained himself, and he was now reaching for the broken bottle laying a few feet from his hand.
"Oh no you don't!" Kit saw his movements, and she grabbed the bottle and slammed it hard into his stomach before he could move. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he let out a slow moan, clutching the bottle.
Suddenly the full impact of what she had done hit Kit. Leaping up, she grabbed her pack and sprinted from the stable. Had she killed him? Would she be arrested? Killed? Would he follow her?
Trying to put all of those thoughts in the back of her mind for a moment when she could handle them, she ran off into the night.
The door slammed behind Kitriana Moores, a strangled yell after her.
"Don't you ever come back! Your as bad as your mother, when she left it was her fault I got stuck with you!"
Running to the stable, Kit looked back over her shoulder at the house. Her father was drunk again, like he was most of the time. He had never treated her or her mother well, and it was all Kit could do to stay behind when her mother ran off. Her mother had told her that after she left, it would get better, and that it wasn't Kit's fault that her father did what he did. Just to be safe, Kit had packed some food, clothes, and the few silvers she had managed to save over the years in an old saddlebag, and was prepared to leave as soon as she couldn't take it anymore.
Coming to the stable, Kit skidded to a halt. It was only a matter of seconds before she was up the hayloft ladder.
"Come on, come on!" Kit grumbled as she felt around in the dark for her pack.
"Looking for this?" said a voice from below. Kit froze. Her heart in her throat, she peered down into the stable below. Her father was standing there, teetering on the spot, her pack in one hand, and a bottle in the other.
"Thot you cud get way from me, eh?" he said, drunkenly. "I'm onta you, missie. I saw you come in heer and get pack these heer packs. I came an got em tho, I'm to smart fer you!"
Something inside Kit snapped. Maybe it was watching him stand there, like he owned her, or maybe it was knowing that all the pain that she and her mother went through was his fault.
With a roar like a tiger, Kit leapt down from the hayloft straight on top of her father. He put up the bottle to smash it in her face, but somehow Kit knew what to do. She used her hand to slam the bottle into her palm instead of her face, and aimed her other fist into his stomach. He fell over, winded, with her on top of him.
"All this is your fault, you're the reason mom left, not me!" she screamed, punching him everywhere she could. She was finally letting go of all the rage she had held onto for years.
Her father had regained himself, and he was now reaching for the broken bottle laying a few feet from his hand.
"Oh no you don't!" Kit saw his movements, and she grabbed the bottle and slammed it hard into his stomach before he could move. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he let out a slow moan, clutching the bottle.
Suddenly the full impact of what she had done hit Kit. Leaping up, she grabbed her pack and sprinted from the stable. Had she killed him? Would she be arrested? Killed? Would he follow her?
Trying to put all of those thoughts in the back of her mind for a moment when she could handle them, she ran off into the night.