I haven't written in a while, so now I'm charged up like a rampant squirrel. This is a multichapter fanfiction, and as opposed to a long piece of writing, as I tend to do, this is a rather short one, but it's only a prologue: the chapters will be longer...um...I dunno what else to say...PG for minor swearing, very occasionally, and it will probably go up for violence in future chapters. R, and R, and E. Read, Review, and Enjoy!
Prologue
The moon was high up in the sky, shining down on the Mortmain Mountains. It was an especially cold night, that night. The snow scouts were not in their usual cave, where by that time, they were telling stories over a blazing fire. The cave was dark and gloomy, and with no fire there, it was infested with snow gnats. At the back of the caves, there was a large vertical tunnel, full with cobwebs and thinning smoke-although less then usual, with the sudden disappearance of the Snow Scouts.
Nearby, there was a large melted waterfall, which had finally frosted over since it had melted on False Spring. At the top, was Mount Fraught, where a few tent pegs lay, tossed down on the floor carelessly. Someone had been camping there recently, presumably. At the bottom of it, was the stricken stream, which was not frozen, yet very cold. By the river was an archway. The V.F.D library: the world is quiet here, a huge board attached to the archway read. It was indeed very quiet.
Then, far away, an automobile rattled down the bumpy tracks of the mountains. The driver was just a bit older then middle-aged, and the woman in the passenger seat, was just below it. The several people in the back were right between. All of them, however, were evil people, especially the one with his hands clamped over the steering wheel, whose name was Count Olaf.
'Should we stop?' was a voice of one of the people in the back: a man, whose appearance was crippled by a hunchback.
'No!' Count Olaf hissed, his voice hoarse,' Remember what I said this morning?'
Hugo-the hunchback-put on a tired, sarcastic voice: 'Today, we won't stop until we find our way out of the mountains…' he said.
'That's right!' Olaf said,' and I meant it! I'm not staying lost in these mountains forever!'
'We would be out of here, if Collete didn't drop the map in the stricken stream!' cried Lucafont, a man with hooks instead of hands.
'I didn't mean to!' Collete complained in her French accent,' I was simply looking at it, and then Kevin pushed me!'
'I never!' cried Kevin, a man who seemed to have nothing wrong with him, but had many wrinkles stretched over his face.
'You did!' Collete cried.
'Well it's your fault anyway!' Lucafont cried. Collete gave an offended gasp, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
'It's not, you big-nosed twat!' she cried.
'Oi!' Lucafont cried,' Shut up, or I'll scratch your eyes out!'
'I'd like to see you try, big-' Collete began to say.
'Shut the hell up, you lot!' Count Olaf roared. 'I can't concentrate with you lot shouting crap at each other in my ear! I suggest you all shut up, before I chuck you out.'
The troupe sat in silence, as Count Olaf turned back round to the steering wheel. Esme sat, humming one of her favourite songs.
'Once we get out of here,' Count Olaf continued,' We can put our plan into action.' The troupe gasped.
'THE plan?' Lucafont asked.
'The very same,' Olaf said, and then turned around a corner,' And you know what? I think we're almost there.'
The stricken stream ran, hushed against the damp rocks. It had turned very cold again, yet it had been unusually warm just days before, with the arrival of false spring. High above was the cloudy sky, and the moon, with it's light reflection in the wavy waters. On the side of the bank, a on. A hand suddenly scooped it up, and the being observed it. There was a gasp.
'Duncan,' a light voice said,' I think we're almost there.'
End Of Prologue