Disclaimer: I do not own beyblade although with enough money I certainly would try to
I hope you enjoy reading this next chapter it's quite long but interesting none the less so you shouldn't min (I hope)
Please review so I know what everyone thinks of the story
As always the story was written by Kizmet I'm just putting it up for her so everybody worship her greatness
All hail Kizmet (bowing down)Ohmmmmmmm. Chapter 3 – Dove Rikasha

Dove had never had any real good luck in her life, she was clumsy, accident prone, and a little on the quiet side. It was not as if she meant to smash the small jar of Madam Zubi's special honey (which could only be made every ten years), or break the head off the sacred statue of the great warrior Centurion Hillowhox, it just…happened.

Dove believed that she was her late ancestors only source of entertainment, or that they had simply forgotten her. In any case, there was no doubt about it – she would never have any true good luck, and she would never have any true friends that would risk being around her for more than five minutes. Mind you there was that time…no wait…that was all of 4 minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Dove Rikasha lived in the tribal village of Rakshasa, which was so scarily near her own family name, she almost doubted that the clan's leading Neko-Jin were as truthful as they appeared. Clan Rakshasa inhabited a small solitary group of hills in northern China; it was a close-knit community, where everyone knew each other from their shoe size up.

Although thinking such things was a terrible memory for Dove, as the local tanner, Master Veribon, had only just made her a nice pair of tough, leather shoes for her birthday. It was only natural for her to destroy them completely within the next hour, after a close encounter with a raging bull, which had strayed too far from the herd. How she had managed to devastate them beyond compare was still unknown – and according to her father, was 'best not thought about.'

'Best not thought about', was a phrase that was really starting to get on the neko's nerves, which were already tattered and frayed enough. Dove was interested in the outside world, so much so that she spent much of her spare time in the small library on the west side of the village. She wanted to explore her horizons and gain more knowledge than that of milking a cow, and reading up on 'one hundred ways to ensure a friendly bond between you and your future mother-in-law'.

This type of hobby was not looked upon kindly by her fellow nekos, however, and the local priest had banned her from reading about the technology of the more 'advanced' world. Banned to an extent of course, as the bookkeeper could not always keep his eye on her – especially when a number of bookshelves had been knocked over, (accidentally of course) a few minutes before hand. Honour dictated she own up to her little…trip to 'the world where books preferred to fly'.

Luck, as you might have already established, was not Dove's thing.

However, there was one thing that she was good at, and it was the only thing that encouraged her to remove her head from the pillow every morning; Dove was an excellent fighter.

Throughout her childhood, she had wanted nothing than to become a 'Guardian Warrior' as her father had once been – being of poor class she doubted she would become the 'tribal beauty' her mother had once been, the fact that her mother had come to such a station was lost on Dove, for she had never seen a picture of her.

She had been told little of her mother, as speaking of her would only upset her father more, and sometimes his sorrow was harder to take than his disappointment in her. Although, even with what little she knew, Dove did not fully understand her late mother; Bedika Rikasha had been a noble of their race, and was said to once almost come close to leading the clan itself – through marriage. Instead she had chosen to marry her father and not Polo Mavir (the current clan leader). Why give up a life of riches, to marry a man that was not even worth as much as his swords?

At her question her father would only smile, turn his head towards the window, sigh at length and say no more.

Now, at the age of fifteen, Dove had entered an apprenticeship of the 'Guardians', she was a good pupil, and she excelled in the arts of war, especially the traditional, ambidextrous fighting of the twinned katana.

Her master was an old man, whom seemed, to her, to be even older than the ancient art she practiced. He was a stern teacher, but he never raised his voice, although she doubted that he would ever manage more than a rasping rattle. He was not wise, as most masters were said to be, but more on the intelligent side; he never taught her any sayings 'filled with hidden meanings', but rather expected her to say her twelve-time table while she parried, and spell 'onomatopoeia' before she could do one full swing.

Mornings would start early, and she would rise with the sun as expected, to begin morning exercise, before joining her other peers within the temple for meditation, led by the High Priest. High Priest Tonapo did not express any feelings of kindness towards Dove, and neither did she pretend to notice any.

Three hours before lunch were used for learning the basics of a working life, and how to get along with everyone – namely etiquette; this was obviously not Dove's favourite of subjects, but she gave no protest to learning it either, such were the way of the warrior – to take orders without question. Duty.

Afternoons were spent with Madam Posies, learning the ways of a true woman – how to cook, clean, wash clothes, keep your husband drunk when situation called for it – that sort of thing. Madam Posies frowned upon Dove's youthful enthusiasm towards fighting, and called it a 'barbaric male sport', which Dove countered was an 'artistic delight, which helped her decide the best was to destroy her fruit flan with a kitchen knife when she got home.' Madam Posies smacked her across her knuckles, and made her write out the fifteen rules of a proper woman twenty times before sending her home in shame.

Since then Dove promised to keep her mouth shut, and try not to let Madam Posies get under her skin anymore. And Madam Posies told all the teachers to keep a closer, and stricter eye on the young neko.

After two hours of 'torture', as Dove called it, the girls were then sent on to Madam Zubi's hut, to learn about herbs and clerical work, as well as bee keeping – this Dove enjoyed, though it might have had something to do with the fact that she was the only one the bees had not decided to sting yet. Dove hoped it was because they felt sorry enough for her already, or she just was not worth the time and effort. Either way – it did not matter.

Madam Zubi was kindly enough, and even though she looked at Dove through pity filled eyes, she never actually directly helped the girl.

Her evening times were used for being taught by her warrior master Yakumi, this was what Dove looked forward to during her day, and although she did not know why it was important learn that water was denser than ice (and that that was meant to be strange), she filed away the knowledge.

Then night would come and she could finally rest, and escape her father shamed filled eyes.

Her life was her life, and she was satisfied with it.

Until the day of the carnival…

The carnival was made up of travelling family groups, whom her father had told her were called 'Romanies'. The carnival travelled in an annual cycle and would stop to visit every village it passed en-route. How they managed to arrive on the same date, every year, was a mystery.

High priest Tonapo used this opportunity to celebrate the remembrance of Centurion Hillowhox – so it came of no surprise when Dove was met with frowns, as the village folk crowded round the decapitated statue of the great war hero himself.

The high priest always made sure that the 'unfortunate event of the breaking of such a monumental and sacred statue,' was always mentioned somewhere in his ceremonial speech. This Dove attempted to ignore, which was easy considering that his voice, she decided, could be used in a sleeping drug, which would easily become a top brand. She also amused herself, to pass the time, by choosing a good name for it 'Tonomonic'.

It did not help, however, that the clan elders and, unsurprisingly, Polo Mavir nodded enthusiastically at the 'monument tragedy' comment; and while saying such things such as 'such a shame' and 'should never have happened'.

Leader Mavir even once said that 'no real neko would have even scratched it.'

To which Madam Zubi replied that 'Dove must be stronger than a real neko in that case.'

Of course Madam Zubi knew that that was not what the proud neko-jin had really tried to say, but he was quickly silenced after that; there was no point arguing with the village wise woman – there was a reason the were called 'wise' after all.

It had been the first time that someone had stood up for Dove. Although she, herself, did not think herself very strong, just extremely fast – well you had to be after the tribes own hunting dogs decided you were good enough to be their main exercise.

Dove managed to wake up before dawn, and decided that maybe now, today, would be a good time to watch the sunrise. Perhaps she could ask her ancestors for keeping her out of trouble (if they would listen to her), or ask even grate Hillowhox for the dexterity to remain on her feet, upright, for a whole twenty-four hours (although she did not know if he was talking to her – or if he could anymore), that made her smile.

Yawning like a tiger, bearing her two front canines (surprisingly she had not knocked them out yet), Dove reach for her washbasin, and scrubbed her face.

She looked up absently to look in the broken mirror hanging on the wall.

Seven years bad luck…

Seven…

She lifted a finger to trace an outline of the yin-yang symbol on one cheek, and then the other. They had been tattooed onto her face only two weeks ago; they represented her decided path – the path of a warrior. Once Eckla, the high priest's wife told her she was all yin and no yang. She smirked slightly at the thought, if that was what her fellow nekos wanted to believe – let them think it, they would not deter her from her path.

She swept back her long black hair, before parting it in two, and the twos into threes. Dove's hair reached down towards her ankles, which annoyed her slightly, as clumsy people should not be allowed hair that could be a future accident waiting to happen. Dove would not cut it in a million years mind, and as she reached for her stained string ties, she plaited it lovingly into pigtails, which trailed just to the top of the back of her knees.

Happy with her reflection, even if it was broken up, Dove marched to the door and flung it open.

The house was silent, the village sounded quiet too, even though the Romanies had arrived last night. Not wanting to break the music of the early morning, she tiptoed past her father's room and down the old stairs. She winced at the squeaks she made; no matter how hard she tried, she just could not move silently enough.

'Dove is that you?' Her father's voice sounded through the door of the first bedroom. Dove scowled, should she answer, or keep up pretence, as if she were some silent shadow…

'Dove I know it's you. Go back to bed honey, it's the carnival today, you can have a lie in.' So much for the silent shadow…

'I'll be back to make breakfast father.' As an afterthought she added, 'I promise.'

A soft grunting sound was her only reply.

It was only when Dove was running round the nearby marshes, the thought occurred to her, that her father may only have heard her because of his neko senses. Maybe a human would not be able to detect such things so well, but then again those stairs could make such a noise that it would wake up Hillowhox's dead brother in law. Such thoughts were none too pleasant.

Dove came to a halt near the edge of a small lake, and looked in. Two sad eyes stared back at her, whatever pride was left inside her soul, was hidden behind two, amber-coloured orbs. The wind, which was picking up at a fast pace, flicked her bangs into her face, and gently caressed her cheeks.

Her own face entranced her, it reminded her slightly of the story of narcissus. Yet it was not any beauty that enthralled her, but the heart-rending story that lay behind her neutral façade.

Captured up within the vision, she did not notice the gale blowing full force in her direction, and she promptly fell face first into the lake.

This had not been the first time she had fallen in, but the feelings that rose and boiled within her heart were different. It was not fair! It just was not fair! Why her? Why did this always have to happen to her? As she surfaced, she gulped in the morning air, and spluttered and sobbed in distress. The water was deeper than she remembered; it came up to her waist. Pain overtook her, not physical, but mental, and she cried out as she stood up straight in the water.

'Why? What do you want from me? Do you punish me?' She raised her hands to the air as she screamed, before finally, overcome with emotion, she sobbed a request. 'Please just show me what you want. Please.'

The air grew quiet and sticky, as if the folds of time had interwoven and become too thick. The moments dragged by in slow motion, before finally resting in a decided place.

Something between a growl and yowl came from the bank of the lake, and there upon the silt sat a small wild cat. Its ruff hair stuck out like a small bird's new plumage, and the small yellow eyes watched the girl in the lake, as she gaped at the little miracle. Spots that were only just appearing adorned its sleek and fluffy coat, its paws seemed too big for its body, but the sharp claws looked menacing enough.

Dove knew exactly what type of creature it was, a cheetah cub; with all the look of innocence and vulnerability, but a sharp mind of complete awareness. The only problem was – what the hell is it doing here? Thought Dove.

Cheetahs were not exactly common in China; actually they did not live in China at all, except for zoos of course. Had the Romanies brought it? Had it escaped then? She shook her head, if that was the case, she should return it.

Wading towards the bank, her baggy ceremonial trousers weighed down by water and mud, Dove reached out her hand, and made kissing noises to ensure the creature would not be startled by her presence, and bolt. It did not move from where it sat, but eyed her with a calm look, and proceeded to clean its whiskers. Just before she reached the small cat it looked up, and before Dove's own eyes, vanished.

As she had made a swipe for the cheetah cub, with both arms, she lost her balance at the sudden disappearance, and once again fell over into the muddy silt.

Dove thought she had gone mad.

Mr Miroth looked up from his work on the small fire within the living space, and watched as his only daughter walked in. She was soaking and covered in mud from top to toe. Not only that, but she appeared to be wearing her ceremonial clothes. This time Mr Miroth decided not to shake his head at her, but kept his face passive as he turned back to the hearth – it would not have been the first time.

Dove sensed her father's weariness at her appearance, and silently took towards the rickety stairs. Before she climbed, however, she turned back and opened her mouth to ask something, then though better of it and returned to the task of scaling the stairs, without toppling back to the bottom; the experience with the cheetah cub, was best kept to herself.

She stripped her clothes off, and grabbed one of her two sets of training clothes to put on. She would be stared at, like a lunatic, for wearing clothes like this today, but what did it matter, they always did anyway. This caused her mind to wander back, to the reflection of herself that she had seen in the mirror; just how long did she expect that she could keep the rest of that pride? The pride that was being slowly chipped away at, by even her own father?

For the first time in years, Dove put her head in her hands, and cried.

The Carnival, at the centre of Village Rakshasa, near the statue of Hillowhox, outside the temple

The carnival was a colourful sight to behold, all types of characters had joined in on the annual travelling trip, and this helped give the Romanies a unique personality and reputation. The Bazaar was filled with unusual scents and sound, and was one of Dove's favourite features of the carnival, second to the acrobats.

The Bazaar was held within the village centre, right outside the temple; in this way, high priest Tonapo could keep an eye on everything – it was also a good way of gathering funding money for the temple, which Dove swore only went towards giving Tonapo more flashy clothes to wear, each year.

At the age of fifteen, Dove was now trusted enough to look at the stalls on her own; although she somehow doubted anyone really 'trusted' her. This would also give her another advantage though; she could sneak out of Tonapo's Hillowhox speech, and not one person would notice. They would either be too busy falling asleep, or trying to listen.

The neko wandered around in a circuit as she gazed over that foreign things lay out on the stalls. She had no money to buy anything with, but she enjoyed imagining what she would buy if she was able to do so. Her sandaled feet slapped the ground, and the sun beat heavily upon the back of her neck, which was exposed through the parting of her plaits.

All around were shouts of: 'Fresh fish', 'exotic furniture', 'come up, some see', 'come and have your fortune read by Madam Mystic'. Somehow Dove doubted that Madam Mystic was the woman's real name, but as her father always said, 'All to their own.'

The blue sky above was lightened by the suns burning rays, and not a cloud was to be seen; it emanated a feeling of true happiness, something Dove rarely felt recently, except during training lessons. Silk scarves, and unknown foods, complicated carvings, and fun games surrounded her, all around people were grinning, bearing their sharp fangs, and talking heartily to each other. No one seemed to notice the out of place clothing the young neko wore, and she was positive that, apart from that mishap this morning, everything was going to be fine. Nothing was going to stop her having fun today.

Nothing…

Or so she thought.

The time for Tonapo's speech came to quickly, and the smallest of children protested, before being sternly and quietly scolded by their parents. Dove spotted her father at the east side of the crowd, trying to be the furthest away from the executed statue of Centurion Hillowhox – she did not blame him, she felt like doing the same. It did not take long for Tonapo to ruffle his robes into order and take his place at the sermon stand, just above that statue, and looking over where its head would have been.

Each year he does more to rub in my foolishness, she thought down heartened.

The high priest held a candle in his right hand this year, and used his left to turn the pages of the papyrus, on which his prepared speech was written. Before started his monotonous talking, he eyed that candle warily, as the wax was starting to drip and spill, and the dish in which he held it was rather shallow. Tonapo started:

'Only three hundred years ago, the village of Rakshasa was nothing but a burnt out ruin of the ancient past…'

And only three lines into the speech, Dove was about ready to dose off. That is, she would have if she had not spotted the danger. Out of the corner of her almond-shaped, amber eyes, Dove thought she saw a flicker of movement that seemed so out of place, it was almost unreal. She never knew how she had seen such a thing, when no one else had, but all her senses flared up at once, and a voice screamed inside her head.

Danger.

Dove growled, whoever or whatever it was, they were aiming to murder the High Priest. Sure she did not like him, but she did not wish death on him either. And although a murder in the village would make an interesting subject, she did not think she was ready to experience such a thing yet.

Whatever danger the Tonapo was in, she had no idea, she just knew something was dreadfully wrong, and that he had to be removed from the line of fire at once.

With that thought in mind, Dove jumped.

She leaped high into the air, higher than she thought would be possible, and grabbed the high priest in mid-flight. Dove thought that she felt herself soaring, that she was able to suddenly fly, but it was not to last, unfortunately; both she and high priest Tonapo landed two carnival stores, which then proceeded to knock down the rest in a type of domino affect. It was too late, when everyone realised that the candle had flown out of Tonapo's hand and onto the roof of the temple – it was already bathed in flames within two minutes, such is the problem when you build it out of wood and straw.

Only silence gripped the audience, silence and fear that is. No panic stricken neko-jinns heading for shelter, or flustered mothers trying to hush their baby's, (although the temple attendants were rushing round for water). So everyone heard the small voice of Dove as she spoke:

'I'm still alive.' It only occurred to her later, that her fellow nekos might have preferred it if she had died in the accident. As it happened she managed to pick herself up from the rubble, and swing her arms about like a flustered chicken. 'Oh.' She whispered 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm…'

She did not finish the last apology as her flailing arm caught Madam Posies in the face, causing her to be knocked back into a puddle of half-baked mud. Dove raised her hands to her mouth, her amber eyes wide, her cheeks burning crimson.

'That's it,' screeched Leader Mavir, 'that is the last time!' Madam Zubi made a desperate scrabble for his arm, but lost the tug of war, as he pulled it back. 'That girl is a hazard. A vary dangerous hazard! And I declare we have a meeting of the elders to decide her fate.' At the last word Leader Mavir turned round to glare coldly at Dove, his golden eyes as hard as flint.

Fate? Oh dear, that does not sound good. Thought Dove, and gulped. Searching for her father, Dove saw him standing next to the statue of Hillowhox. There was no escaping the shame in his eyes, as he concentrated on training his eyes on her.

The Court Session, at the feet of the statue of Hillowhox

The Bazaar had been cleared away, and all that remained now were a few multicoloured banners, which look out of place amongst the grey slab stone paving, and grave faces that looked down upon the teenage neko. The audience that had attended that carnival were not her only witnesses for this session, but also that Romanies who had decided that watching someone get punished for breaking up their stalls, was good enough entertainment.

The congregation sweltered under the intense heat of the midday sun, and used their hands as fans in an attempt to cool their sweating faces. Cool glasses of water had been placed in front of those who were to be Dove's judges, who were the clan's elders. Madam Zubi was among them, but she looked more sympathetic and concerned than the rest of them, she kept twitching and looked around her warily with sorrow filled eyes, as if ashamed and nervous about her position there.

Beside Madam Zubi stood a cloaked figure; their hunched posture mirrored that of Dove's own. She kept her eyes fixed firmly to the ground as the decision of her fate was read out, and dug her fingers tightly into the palm of her hands, her pointed fingernails drawing blood. The crowd was silent as they awaited the verdict – Polo Mavir was the one to give it:

'Dove Bedika Miroth Rikasha, the clan elders have become worried about your presence among us. A meeting was called for late this morning. In that time we have passed many suggestions for your fate. Some have been that of death itself, but we have been advised to look upon you with sympathy, and give you a second chance. Your actions have brought you down this path; they go as follows:

The breaking of our sacred statue, of Centurion Hillowhox. An accident.

The persistent danger you present to the tribe itself through your own unchecked clumsiness. You think I mean to do those things?

Constant failings to attend certain classes. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, father had to fish me out.

Unnecessary abuse towards Madam Posies. Did she ever mention her ill treatment of me?

The destruction of our sacred festival. So said sacred by Tonapo.

And the destruction of our temple. Ah…no excuse, but all I can say is that I did not purposely aim for the candle to land on the temple.

Do you accept these accusations?'

'I do,' replied Dove, her voice void of emotion; there was no point arguing, she would have to take their words as they came.

'Dove Bedika Miroth Rikasha, you are hereby exiled from Village Rakshasa, and all other neko-jin communities. If you attempt to break this expulsion you shall be arrested and most likely hanged. Do you understand?'

Banishment? Exile? No wait…this could not be happening to her. Where would she go? She had no relations living within any nearby cities, and civilisation was miles away. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, a diamond filled with frustration, disbelief and complete and utter humiliation.

'Do you understand Rikasha?' Mavir said again, this time she could hear a venomous tone in his low, dangerous voice.

She nodded, and this time, in a much quieter voice said: 'I do.'

'Step forward then and receive your mark.'

She was not sure what exactly a 'mark' was, but she was pretty sure it was some type of symbol, which represented that she was an outcast of neko-jin society. She walked slowly and shakily towards the dais and found herself standing before Madam Zubi; the old neko reached out a wrinkly hand, and held her chin in gentle shaking fingers. In Madam Zubi's other hand was a sharp, recently sterilised knife.

'I'm sorry Dove, I tried…I tried…'

The slick bite of the knife sliced through Dove's cheek, and she almost screamed at the pain that flashed through her nerves. The 'mark', it turned out, was there not only to symbolise her banishment, but to also destroy the yin-yang symbols tattooed onto her face. Madam Zubi's face was solemn, but there was no pleasure shown there in what she was doing.

Next the hooded figure approached her, another knife in their hand. As they reached for her chin, she looked into the hood, to see none other than her own father. She turned her face away from him, and shut her eyes, offering her other cheek. In the brief moment when their eyes had locked, she had been met with a never-ending sadness, a well of shame, which tugged at her very soul.

The last piece of pride Dove had guarded so closely of late, shattered at that moment, and she did not feel anything as the knife entered her skin.

She was numb.

Outside the gates of Village Rakshasa

Dove stood outside the gates of Village Rakshasa, and looked at the road before her with a blank expression, and unblinking eyes. Was this not what she always wanted? To go elsewhere, and not stay in the village all her life?

Not like this. Never like this…

A cool wind blew, whisking her ratted hair into her face and around her body. She had been stripped of all she had; everything to her clothes, to her string ties, and she shivered in the twilight, with no sun to warm her, she was starting to get cold. She sensed a presence behind her, but did not bother to turn around. She already knew it was.

'Dove?' Her father's voice, soft and warm, almost comforting, but it did nothing to melt the ice quickly freezing around her heart. 'Dove I am to give you your weapons and talisman.'

He came to stand before her and looked into her eyes. They did nothing to tell him of her feelings. She did not feel anything, just a numbness, she did not want to feel anything, and not in front of him either.

He brought up in front of her face, a patterned box. It was intricately carved with the pictures of intertwining vines and flowers of a foreign land.

'These,' he started 'were given to your mother when she visited Africa.' Dove was startled by this information; it was the only piece of information that her father had freely given to her, about her mother, without her persistent questioning. He opened the box to present two expensive, and very deadly looking katanii, along with a sword belt, of the finest leather Dove had ever seen.

Taking the belt and Katanii from the box, she strapped them around her waist, afterwards she realised her father was holding something else; it was obviously to be her talisman. He held the amulet in both hands, they were shaking uncontrollably and his whole body trembled.

'When I married your mother I vowed to protect her, I also vowed to protect this too. I do not know what it is, but it was important to her, another of her African artefacts. I failed Dove…' his voice cracked at this point, he swallowed and tried again, 'I failed to protect your mother from her fate, but I have not failed to protect this. That box and this amulet are all I have to remember her by…they are yours now…make me…proud.'

Dove felt warm water on her hands as he gave her the amulet, she thought that she had begun to cry, until she realised that the tears came from her father, himself. In all her life, Dove had never seen Ivor Miroth cry, and she vowed that she would never do so again. That was if she ever saw him again.

She placed the amulet around her neck, and let the chain settle the medallion to the under part of her ribs. When she next looked up, he was walking away from her…

One hour later

Dove could not remember being so cold in her life, she wished, no matter how much the humiliation, someone would just happen to be travelling in the same direction as her. She was naked, hungry and her cheeks were finally beginning to sting again, Madam Zubi had placed salve and bandages onto the cuts, but she was told that they were going to leave some 'handsome scars'.

Still, Dove had to trudge on, it would not do to be left outside in the night, but she would have to rest soon. The katanii brushed against her legs as she walked, and gave her an odd sense of comfort, her tribe, or at least her father, were not prepared to let her leave into the wild completely unprotected.

It was some time before Dove realised that she could hear a soft humming, and when that time came soft lamp lights could be seen in the distance just over her shoulder. Dove was not sure whether to ask for help or keep on walking, whatever or whoever it was, could have been dangerous.

The humming turned out to be an engine of a car, a very long car at that. Dove had seen such machines before, at the village, and had been curious of their meaning, but the other neko-jin had been hesitant and wary of the mechanical beasts. To her, cars were a sign of true civilisation; to the locals they were a sign of broken tradition.

The very long car was a shiny black, with tinted windows, and slowed as it approached her. She stopped as it did and looked at it sideways, before turning her whole body towards the back window and attempting to look in, to no avail. The sound of the door opening startled her, so that she stumbled and fell back onto the cold grass. Someone stepped out and offered her a hand.

The neko looked up into the face of the someone, and was surprised to see that it was a girl, only around her age, maybe a little older. She had long black hair, tucked behind her ears, but her eyes were hard to extinguish in the dusky evening. In the other hand she held a long piece of material.

She took the offered hand and stood up, surprised yet again, by the strength she sensed. The girl shook out the material, before placing it around her shoulders, it was a makeshift cloak. Dove looked up into the shadowed face of the girl as she spoke for the first time:

'Dove Rikasha?'

'Yes?'

How she knew her name, she did not know, but neither did this point particularly bother her. She was too cold and hungry to question it, and this girl had given her something to chase away the cold. In Dove's books, this girl was friendly. The mysterious friend went on to introduce herself:

'My name is Spartica Haughton, I would ask that you accompany me, you can bring your swords with you, but if you even think about slaughtering my butler Naugetii or I, think again.'

Dove nodded numbly and followed Spartica back into the car, she was safe at last, and even though she knew she had just entered a new stage in her life, she did not particularly care at that moment. She was past caring. Dove was overcome by a sense of warmth as she sat down, and registered groggily that there was more room in this car then she had first suspected.

The neko was not aware of any danger, and her senses did not alert any to her, in fact she felt strangely…safe, as if she had been picked up by a guardian angel, maybe she had died…than again, maybe she was just having some type of luck for the first time. She smiled; maybe, just maybe, someone did like her up there after all, and in her mind she pictures a large grassy plain with a tiny cheetah cub bounding over a small hill.

As the car began to move once more, Dove became sleepy, and felt as though the whole world was gently rocking her to sleep, and with the last thought she could spare, Dove could only think one thing.

I will make you proud of me father, I promise…I promise…