The Lost – Chapter Four
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Wildwing/Mallory
Author's Note: Um, yeah, I'm not dead in the fanfic department, believe it or not, and here's a chappy to prove it. Yeah, so here's chapter four. Thanks to the Jenster for editing and putting up with me. Questions, comments or concerns can be emailed to me, although flames aren't really appreciated. But if you think I suck that bad, well, then, maybe I deserve 'em...*shrugs* Anyways, enough of my blabbering, on with the fic!
Mallory sighed as she gazed at her new surroundings. She was locked with Wildwing in some sort of primitive hut; they were both seated on the dirt floor. Stripped of their armor and the mask of Drake DuCaine, their hands were tied behind their backs to a pole embedded in the center of the shoddy building. The thick rope binding was cutting her wrists, rubbing at the flesh until it was raw and blistering. Her head throbbed from where one of the natives had hit her in the back of the skull with their spear, and she has a gash across her thigh from where a patch of brambles had decided to jump out and slash her. She knew that she was probably bleeding in more places that she could count. Her thoughts ended abruptly as she felt something brush against one of her hands. She looked down and saw that it was just Wildwing's hand, trying to move to a position that was anything more comfortable than its current locale. She looked over at Wildwing for a brief moment; he wasn't faring any better than she. He was cut and bruised as well, and just as scared as she was, even though neither would admit it. Wing caught her eye for a brief moment and then turned his head sharply, almost as if in shame. She saw right through his emotional mask, he was terrified out of his wits.
"Wing?" Mallory was surprised at the hoarse quietness in her voice; it was very uncharacteristic of her red-hot temper.
"Mal, I'm so -"
"Cram it Wing, I don't even wanna hear you say it." Her voice softened as he lowered his head, "I just wanted to make sure that you're alright."
"I'm okay, nothing that I haven't endured before. How are you doing?"
"Nothing worse than any of my other battle scars. I'll live."
Suddenly, the door to the crumbling hut opened, and three primitive-looking natives entered. Mallory and Wildwing observed the three and looked each other; they gripped each other's hands as best as they could despite their bindings, fearful as the men approached closer. The two men that flanked the sides wore identical red and black face paint; one streak of each ran across their cheeks and over the bridge of their noses. They wore nothing more than loincloths, carrying tall, sharpened spears with a thin coating of almost clear slime on the tips; both of the captive Avians knew instantly that it was lethal poison. The man in the center could easily be identified as the chief of the village, he wore a crown of feathers and roughly shaped beads, it added an extra foot to his height. He was rounding around the middle, years of inactivity and sitting on a throne for the majority of his day had diminished any physique he may have had in the past. His eyes were cold and calculating, seeming to judge the two prisoners before him with a glance. Curious onlookers peered into the tent as the chief finally stood in front of Wing and Mal, glaring at them as if a very glance from his eyes could kill. With one glance to his left and another to his right, the two guards cut the rope that bound Wildwing and Mallory to the post in the center of the hut. The two captives were shoved roughly to their feet and held at spear point, just in case either of them decided to try and escape from the grips of the guards. One command from the chief, and the guards shoved Wildwing and Mallory out of the hut and into a cart that was waiting just outside of the crumbling shelter. The bright, mid-day sunlight blinded the ducks as they were forced outside; they had barely been able to distinguish night from day in the makeshift cell. The guards shoved them into the back of the cart; the six-foot bars on it assured that none of its occupants could escape. As soon as their vision adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight, they reeled in fear as they saw crowds and crowds of villagers circling what seemed to be a huge platform that had been erected in the middle of the huts, and the cart that they were trapped in was heading right for it.
Wildwing staggered back in alarm, as Mallory's eyes grew wide at what she presumed to be their fates.
"Oh my God, they're going to burn us alive. Shit, shit, shit..."
Mallory looked over at Wildwing as he cursed, it was uncharacteristic of him, but was becoming an almost normal part of his speech ever since they had been captured.
"Don't say it Wing, maybe they're just taking us to that platform to be judged or something. I'm sure that whatever laws these...things have will be put to use. Don't make me be the optimist here, okay?"
They leaned against the bars of the cart, Wildwing showing much more panic across his features than Mallory. Finally, the ramshackle vehicle halted to a stop in front of the platform, jarring the leader and second-in- command of the Mighty Ducks from their thoughts. The guards opened the gate in the back and roughly shoved the prisoners out, walking them to the platform and tying them almost immediately to the large stake that resided in the middle of the platform. The villagers began screaming and ranting, throwing assorted objects in the general vicinity of Mallory and Wildwing. Wildwing couldn't make out any of what they were saying, but he had a hunch that the one word that the villagers screamed and repeated over again, "gehntay", could probably be roughly translated into "intruder" or "enemy".
Suddenly, an old woman appeared out of the crowd and walked onto the platform, standing with her arms outstretched before the crowd. A hush fell quickly over them, and she began to speak, wagging her finger in an angry manner over the crowd. A horrified expression fell over them, and as the woman finished her speech, she turned around to the ducks and offered them each a long drink of water. She turned to the chief; bowing to him and speaking in a gentle, yet firm tone, almost as if she was trying to prove her side of an argument with him. The chief rubbed his temples, obviously weighing a heavy argument, spoke a few gruff sentences to the woman, and then signaled his guards. Wildwing and Mallory heard a loud crack, and felt the ropes fall from their wrists. The guard looked down on Mallory and glared at her, but Wildwing grabbed her hand and dragged her back to him, keeping his arm in between her and the guard.
"Work with me here, they're primitive, they'll understand not to mess with you if I protect you rather than if you just start beating people up."
Mallory narrowed her eyes at him, let out an angry growl, and played along, placing her hands on his arm and standing behind him. Wildwing held her close to him in possession. He partially did it to keep her safe, but inside he knew that there was more to it. The old woman turned to them within an instant, bowing so low to them that her forehead touched the dirt. Soon, the entire crowd followed, then the reluctant guards, and finally the chief, but only after he sent a cold glance their way.
"Wildwing? What in the..."
"They must think that we're..."
They looked at each other and the realization hit them both.
"Gods?"
"Exactly what I was thinking."
"Oh stars Wing, what in the world are we getting ourselves into?"
"How are we going to tell them that we aren't what they think we are?"
"I have no clue, all I know is that we're in for one interesting adventure..."
He gripped her shoulder as the people began to rise. They looked into each other's eyes as she patted his hand.
"Don't worry Wing, but you have to think of this strategically, at least this way, no one will wanna kill us..."
"But still..."
"I know, this isn't right, but we're stuck here for right now, and I for one don't wanna be here permanently." She ran her finger across her throat to emphasize what she meant. "As soon as we can understand them, we'll tell them about what's happened and that we need to go home."
She was interrupted as the old woman approached them, resting one of her hands in each of theirs. She nodded her head off to the side, silently telling them to follow her. Wing and Mal eyed each other warily and shrugged their shoulders as they started walking, wondering how in the world they were ever going to get home.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Wildwing/Mallory
Author's Note: Um, yeah, I'm not dead in the fanfic department, believe it or not, and here's a chappy to prove it. Yeah, so here's chapter four. Thanks to the Jenster for editing and putting up with me. Questions, comments or concerns can be emailed to me, although flames aren't really appreciated. But if you think I suck that bad, well, then, maybe I deserve 'em...*shrugs* Anyways, enough of my blabbering, on with the fic!
Mallory sighed as she gazed at her new surroundings. She was locked with Wildwing in some sort of primitive hut; they were both seated on the dirt floor. Stripped of their armor and the mask of Drake DuCaine, their hands were tied behind their backs to a pole embedded in the center of the shoddy building. The thick rope binding was cutting her wrists, rubbing at the flesh until it was raw and blistering. Her head throbbed from where one of the natives had hit her in the back of the skull with their spear, and she has a gash across her thigh from where a patch of brambles had decided to jump out and slash her. She knew that she was probably bleeding in more places that she could count. Her thoughts ended abruptly as she felt something brush against one of her hands. She looked down and saw that it was just Wildwing's hand, trying to move to a position that was anything more comfortable than its current locale. She looked over at Wildwing for a brief moment; he wasn't faring any better than she. He was cut and bruised as well, and just as scared as she was, even though neither would admit it. Wing caught her eye for a brief moment and then turned his head sharply, almost as if in shame. She saw right through his emotional mask, he was terrified out of his wits.
"Wing?" Mallory was surprised at the hoarse quietness in her voice; it was very uncharacteristic of her red-hot temper.
"Mal, I'm so -"
"Cram it Wing, I don't even wanna hear you say it." Her voice softened as he lowered his head, "I just wanted to make sure that you're alright."
"I'm okay, nothing that I haven't endured before. How are you doing?"
"Nothing worse than any of my other battle scars. I'll live."
Suddenly, the door to the crumbling hut opened, and three primitive-looking natives entered. Mallory and Wildwing observed the three and looked each other; they gripped each other's hands as best as they could despite their bindings, fearful as the men approached closer. The two men that flanked the sides wore identical red and black face paint; one streak of each ran across their cheeks and over the bridge of their noses. They wore nothing more than loincloths, carrying tall, sharpened spears with a thin coating of almost clear slime on the tips; both of the captive Avians knew instantly that it was lethal poison. The man in the center could easily be identified as the chief of the village, he wore a crown of feathers and roughly shaped beads, it added an extra foot to his height. He was rounding around the middle, years of inactivity and sitting on a throne for the majority of his day had diminished any physique he may have had in the past. His eyes were cold and calculating, seeming to judge the two prisoners before him with a glance. Curious onlookers peered into the tent as the chief finally stood in front of Wing and Mal, glaring at them as if a very glance from his eyes could kill. With one glance to his left and another to his right, the two guards cut the rope that bound Wildwing and Mallory to the post in the center of the hut. The two captives were shoved roughly to their feet and held at spear point, just in case either of them decided to try and escape from the grips of the guards. One command from the chief, and the guards shoved Wildwing and Mallory out of the hut and into a cart that was waiting just outside of the crumbling shelter. The bright, mid-day sunlight blinded the ducks as they were forced outside; they had barely been able to distinguish night from day in the makeshift cell. The guards shoved them into the back of the cart; the six-foot bars on it assured that none of its occupants could escape. As soon as their vision adjusted to the brightness of the sunlight, they reeled in fear as they saw crowds and crowds of villagers circling what seemed to be a huge platform that had been erected in the middle of the huts, and the cart that they were trapped in was heading right for it.
Wildwing staggered back in alarm, as Mallory's eyes grew wide at what she presumed to be their fates.
"Oh my God, they're going to burn us alive. Shit, shit, shit..."
Mallory looked over at Wildwing as he cursed, it was uncharacteristic of him, but was becoming an almost normal part of his speech ever since they had been captured.
"Don't say it Wing, maybe they're just taking us to that platform to be judged or something. I'm sure that whatever laws these...things have will be put to use. Don't make me be the optimist here, okay?"
They leaned against the bars of the cart, Wildwing showing much more panic across his features than Mallory. Finally, the ramshackle vehicle halted to a stop in front of the platform, jarring the leader and second-in- command of the Mighty Ducks from their thoughts. The guards opened the gate in the back and roughly shoved the prisoners out, walking them to the platform and tying them almost immediately to the large stake that resided in the middle of the platform. The villagers began screaming and ranting, throwing assorted objects in the general vicinity of Mallory and Wildwing. Wildwing couldn't make out any of what they were saying, but he had a hunch that the one word that the villagers screamed and repeated over again, "gehntay", could probably be roughly translated into "intruder" or "enemy".
Suddenly, an old woman appeared out of the crowd and walked onto the platform, standing with her arms outstretched before the crowd. A hush fell quickly over them, and she began to speak, wagging her finger in an angry manner over the crowd. A horrified expression fell over them, and as the woman finished her speech, she turned around to the ducks and offered them each a long drink of water. She turned to the chief; bowing to him and speaking in a gentle, yet firm tone, almost as if she was trying to prove her side of an argument with him. The chief rubbed his temples, obviously weighing a heavy argument, spoke a few gruff sentences to the woman, and then signaled his guards. Wildwing and Mallory heard a loud crack, and felt the ropes fall from their wrists. The guard looked down on Mallory and glared at her, but Wildwing grabbed her hand and dragged her back to him, keeping his arm in between her and the guard.
"Work with me here, they're primitive, they'll understand not to mess with you if I protect you rather than if you just start beating people up."
Mallory narrowed her eyes at him, let out an angry growl, and played along, placing her hands on his arm and standing behind him. Wildwing held her close to him in possession. He partially did it to keep her safe, but inside he knew that there was more to it. The old woman turned to them within an instant, bowing so low to them that her forehead touched the dirt. Soon, the entire crowd followed, then the reluctant guards, and finally the chief, but only after he sent a cold glance their way.
"Wildwing? What in the..."
"They must think that we're..."
They looked at each other and the realization hit them both.
"Gods?"
"Exactly what I was thinking."
"Oh stars Wing, what in the world are we getting ourselves into?"
"How are we going to tell them that we aren't what they think we are?"
"I have no clue, all I know is that we're in for one interesting adventure..."
He gripped her shoulder as the people began to rise. They looked into each other's eyes as she patted his hand.
"Don't worry Wing, but you have to think of this strategically, at least this way, no one will wanna kill us..."
"But still..."
"I know, this isn't right, but we're stuck here for right now, and I for one don't wanna be here permanently." She ran her finger across her throat to emphasize what she meant. "As soon as we can understand them, we'll tell them about what's happened and that we need to go home."
She was interrupted as the old woman approached them, resting one of her hands in each of theirs. She nodded her head off to the side, silently telling them to follow her. Wing and Mal eyed each other warily and shrugged their shoulders as they started walking, wondering how in the world they were ever going to get home.