Out of the Frying Pan – Take Two. 

            (yes, you may skip the authors note, it mostly applies to people who've read the story before.)

            This fanfic was posted two years ago and was nearly finished, but, as with many fanfics, I lost interest as time got short and life butted in.

            However.  I found this fic again a few weeks ago and went 'Hey!  If I spiff this up a bit, it could turn out pretty good!'  I am a much better writer now, so you all are in for a treat (I hope).  Everything is similar at least, the overall plot isn't changed (even if the main character's name is drastically different), so if you can stand the writing and you desperately want to know what happens, I'm going to try and keep the old one up (I'm hoping ff.n doesn't yell at me for it.)  I really want to finish it this time, and I'm not breaking it into two books.  So get ready folks, because the new, improved, less Mary-sued, spiffed up, better and overall great fanfic Out of the Frying Pan, has returned for your reading pleasure!!! 

            Have fun and review!

            She stood by the creek, entirely depressed.  Life completely sucked.  Her parents were at each other's throats, and their stress rubbed off on her, thus making her grades a living hell.  She was a senior, and college loomed on the horizon.  Insistent, her dog, Satina, pulled on the leash again. She sighed, pulled out of her thoughts. Following her dog on the trails, she tried to ignore the odor of the heavily polluted stream.  "Satina, stop pulling so hard,"  she said to the overexcited dog,  "Stop it!"  For such a small dog, she thought, she sure can pull. Giving up, she followed her down to the water, looking down at it.  It's oil slicked surface reflected her disheveled self back at her.  She sighed. Her dog pulled again, this time trying to cross the stream. She followed, balancing on top of a log to avoid the murky water. Suddenly, she saw a rabbit going the opposite way. Oh crap, I'm in trouble now, she thought. Her dog saw it at the same time she did, and went the other way, pulling her off of her perch. She fell, slapping the water hard. Satina was pulled along with her, since she didn't have the presence of mind to release her. Kat's head went under the water, and she came up spluttering and cursing.  "Satina!!!! What in the world were you thinking?! I was on top of that thing you know!"

            The dog didn't seem to notice, but she seemed to get a faint feeling of regret from somewhere.  She shook her head, no time to feel sorry for herself, she should probably just get home and wash up. Satina had already crawled out of the water and was now running the length of the leash to see what she could see. Kat pouted in the water, thinking on how this certainly complimented her day. She shivered.  Was the water always this cold?  She didn't think so.  It was the middle of summer after all.
            She looked around again, something was strange. Really strange. She sniffed. Where did the smell go? She looked around her, and began to get scared. Where were the houses on the right, she could usually see them from here! Realizing that she was still sitting down, she breathed easier; that was probably it. Getting up, she nearly fell down again. Instead of the usual green-blue water that was her creek, there was a clear stream. Replacing the fine sand were smooth river rocks.  She looked up, down, and up the stream again, it looked the same, except for the subtle differences. The water was colder and clearer, but the trees were in the same alignment. Best to start with what I know, she decided, and tramped out of the water, onto the bank.
            It was strange, and yet familiar. When she came to the place where she usually came down, she found a young man, filling a battered metal pitcher.  He was dressed strangely, and seemed too old to be one of the kids that played with the sand, the ones who usually got water from the creek.  "What are you doing?" she asked, looking at him incredulously, "You aren't going to drink it, surely?"
            The man took one look at her and dropped the pitcher, running in the opposite direction.  Kat sighed, just what she needed, some mother after her for being a flasher or something to that effect. She tramped up the hill after her, pulling her dog along with her.  "Satina! Please get your nose off the ground, we do need to walk you know."
            The dog promptly ignored her, insisting that sniffing was just as important as walking.
            She quirked an eyebrow, then shook her head.  "Whatever you say, dog." Continuing to walk, she realized that the woods should have stopped by now, but they hadn't. Looking up, she found not the cloudless day she had had before, but instead a large mushroom cloud of red and black. She cursed.  "What is going on?"  she said to no one in particular.

            The thing just drifted away on the wind. She continued to walk. A half hour later, the tree line abruptly stopped. Kat stopped. Satina even stopped. They both stared. In front of them was a battle ground.  "Oh my god…"
            Instead of a park playground, there was a battle ground, strewn with bodies. Some were boys, bleeding and in pain. Some were men, in the same condition. The most distinctive difference she noticed, over the shock, was that they were in different colors. Blue and white, and red and copper.  "Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?" she squeaked.
            No one answered. Well, someone did, but not her question. 

            "Halt! Who do you hail?"
            She turned to the voice, it was a young man, another one?  "Hail?"
            "Yes, hail. Which country do you hail from?"
            She scowled.  "I come from the USA!"  It occurred to her that since everything else had changed, this person probably did not know of the United States. She was right, for once in the day.
            "The USA?"
            She babbled.  "I don't know, you probably haven't heard of it but it was right here..."
            The man, she assumed he was a guard of some sort, levered a crossbow at her chest and glared.  "Do you hail The Stormwing Ozorne or King Jonathon?" he said loudly, stopping her gibber.
            She was now very scared. For one thing, it was a crossbow. A crossbow, aimed at her chest. She would have at least expected a gun. In fact, she would have preferred it; that at least would have made sense.  "Listen, I have no idea what you are talking about, I was taking a walk with my dog I fell in the water, and here I am. Could you possibly explain this to me?  I'm very confused, and more than slightly frightened."
            The man started and lowered his bow. She realized that he was only a little older than her. God, this is strange, she thought. The man looked her up and down, lingering on...uncomfortable places. She refrained from moving, decided that he was skittish enough. She did however wish she wasn't wearing a full skirt and tank top. He was interrupted by a call for help. She followed him over to a wounded man. He knelt beside him with his pitcher and began to wash his wounds. Her natural humanness got the better of her, and she began to help him. As he cleaned his leg, she took his head and put it on her lap. She knew it was a bad idea, but his arms and legs worked fine, so the neck probably wasn't broken.
            "Hi."  She said quietly, suddenly shy.
            The man looked at her oddly.  "Youngster, do you know where you are?"
            "No."

            He gestured weakly around him.  "You are sitting on the greatest battlefield in many years, where man, beast, and immortal all clashed."

            She bit her lip.  "Why?"

            "The same reason as always," he said, his voice growing steadily weaker, "power."  He gripped her hand, "but I was part of it, and I am proud."

            She nodded, unable to trust her voice.  She had never seen a person die, but she knew that this man was going to.  The boy had stopped cleaning the wounds, shaking his head.     He choked. She didn't even bother trying to resuscitate him. It was pointless, and besides, he had been ready. She wiped his mouth with the corner of her skirt. Most of it was now splattered with dust, mud and blood. She stood up, and moved on with the man. They began walking to another. In their path, a copper uniform stood out. The man stepped around it, but she stopped.
            "Do not bother with him, he is an islander."
            She glared at him.  "All deserve someone with them at their death."
            "Even if they are evil?"

            She didn't answer him, a lifetime of living in a political atmosphere exactly the opposite of her own had taught her to keep her mouth shut.

            He was stubborn though.  "Speak, even if they are evil?"

            "Your enemies believed that you were as evil as you believe them to be.  There are two sides to a war you know."  She didn't care if she sounded blunt, he was being heartless. To her, that was a much higher crime. He gaped at her.
            "Who are you?"
            She turned away. "Kat."
            "Odd name for a noble...or are you a noble?"
            It was all beginning to come into place...sort of.  "I do not own lands, if that is what you're asking, and I don't think my family name would be worth anything here, so no, I guess I'm not a noble."
           She turned away from him again, and found then man was already dead. She sighed, she was tired, confused, in pain, horrified, and already wishing that she could go home. Getting up, she turned to the man.
            "I have told you my name," she said, "now, could you possibly be so kind as to tell me yours?" 

            He smiled, and against the dirt, grime, blood in his shirt, and horrors in his eyes, she could see the sixteen-year-old in him.  "Nealen. Nealen of Green Mountain."

Well.  There you have it.  The real differences com later.  Maybe tonight if I feel generous.