A/N: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I feel so special now that everyone
has reviewed even though I've been bad! Thanks so much! I'll answer reviews
at the end of the chapter.
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Around the same time that Michael, Natal, Frenery, Bertram, and William were giving Terian a severe talking to, Jonathan, sitting at the front of the cottage, heard a slight rustling noise to the side of it, where the horses were stabled. Bored, he decided he'd go see what had made their mounts so restless. Stretching, Jon rose, enjoying the feel of the sun on his toned body. He walked around the cottage and froze for a split-second at the shock of what was going on. Sir Samuel was there, surrounded by their packs, and he seemed to be very agilely-as far as it was possible with one hand-to be searching them. Already there was a small pile of possessions at his side-coins, frames, daggers, and anything else that was of value to the knights. The saddlebags, too, had been plundered, and the horses were shifting nervously at the strange man. But worst of all, Sir Garram was sprawled a small distance away, obviously out cold.
Sir Jon felt a rage build in him, a rage at the man who had stolen their trust and knocked out their healer, a rage at the bad luck that had cast him on their trail, but most of all, a rage at themselves, and most of all himself, for believing him so naively. It only lasted a split second before he'd taken it all in and acted upon it, and 'Sir Samuel' found a blade hovering an inch away from his chest.
"Don't move," Jonathan growled out, "Don't even speak until I say so." The thief froze, terrorized into obeying.
It was almost half an hour before the fighting party trooped back, and Jon's arm was beginning to get sore. He could tell by the thief's tense posture that he must be cramping up also.
"Well, well, well," Michael said. "What have we here?"
It didn't take long before the whole story was forced out of the man. His real name was Joseph Monk, and he was a professional thief on the run from the authorities in Lubran. He had been stealing from the black-cloaked man when said person had attacked him, and had later attacked Garram, planning on taking what he could, including a new mount, and running off. Unfortunately, the thief hadn't known that Sir Jon was staying behind too.
And, with this revelation, and Terian's assurances that the man had, indeed, saved him, the knights' trust in Tayli was restored-at least, almost.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Tayli knew all this, of course. Why shouldn't she? She was always watching them, and now hadn't been an exception. After treating her own wounds (which had stung, but she'd bit her tongue and lived), she had gone back to watching and being there. But it was evening now, and the knights, who had resigned themselves to another night in the cottage, were bedding down. Tayli moved away and did so as well, and then relaxed against a tree, thinking.
She took her sword out of its sheath and just admired it, as she'd done so many times since she'd gotten it two years ago. The pommel stone seemed to be aflame inside it, catching the dying sun's last rays and changing them in the depths of it to burst out again in a flame of every shade purple, red, and blue. It was a breathtakingly beautiful stone, cut round and cool when she put her hands to it.
The leather-wrapped hilt fit her hand perfectly, the leather worn at the fingertips and palm, so that her hands fit into long-made grooves whenever she held it, reveling in the power that she could almost feel humming through her bones when she held the deadly weapon that was all her own.
The blade reflected the sunset too, turning it into liquid fire as the light played along the shining, honed edge, bring the groove in the center and the strange, flowing script etched into the blade into sharp detail. Tayli traced her hand over the inscription. It was in the secret language of all the warrior organizations, Kiil (A/N: Key-ill), the flowing script beautiful and graceful, yet dangerous in its beauty, because it often held secrets that had been well hidden for a good reason (A/N: For the writing, think of something like a cross between cursive and Arabic).
Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, the inscriptions read. Tayli, Soul of power.
Most people thought, if they ever came upon a training school or group of warriors, that they were nothing more than a group of shallow fighters, mercenaries. How wrong they were. Warriors were part of a hidden civilization, with a history, stories, and customs. They called themselves the Protectors, the Kiin. (A/N: Key-in)
The Kiin had been founded, centuries and centuries ago, by a man, Kael (A/N: Ki-el) sick of all the evil that was happening around him, sick of all the bad that people did. He invited the best of the best of fighters to go away with him, hide themselves, and devote their lives to fighting for justice, and training others to carry on their mission. They took orphans and promising young lads, and led them away, and became the legend that they were now. The boys were trained in fighting, but they also became learned, and courteous, and many became wise. And on their sixteenth birthday, each young man would set out with a small mission, challenging but not all that dangerous, and, when they returned, became a warrior. Later, when these boys grew older, they would become the trainers, and carry the burden on their strong shoulders. The Kiin developed their own language, their own writing, signals, and etiquette, all-important for a group that functioned well, and spread over many, many countries.
Tayli had been named for one of the Kiin's legends (all based on fact, but slightly twisted with time), a spunky girl who had once saved a country because of her willpower and resistance. She had been the daughter of a Kiin master, and later became the friend and confidant of the crown prince. He had entrusted all of his and his country's secrets to her when a tyrant king and his cronies, who'd wanted to take over the prince's country, had captured her. But, no matter what they did to her, she didn't betray her friend's trust. And when, at last, she could not take it anymore, she'd given them directions straight into an enchanted forest, fooling her stupid captors easily.
That Tayli had returned from her ordeal almost dead, spirit broken and raving because of the continuous torture they'd put her through, but she had locked her friend's secret in her heart, and wouldn't let it go.
No one knew precisely what happened to the old Tayli afterwards. Some said she was nursed back to health and became the crown prince's bride, some said she died afterwards, some even said she died before the war was over, and then there were those select few who were of the opinion that, no, she hadn't died and had never married, but became a wise woman and served her country her whole life.
And this was the woman that Tayli had been named after, and, so far, she'd lived up to the expectations and did indeed have a soul of power.
Tayli remembered her initiation well. She'd just completed her mission, protecting a huge transfer of gold for workmen's wages, and had come home triumphantly, to be welcomed by all.
That night, she'd gone into a purifying sweat-lodge, dressed in completely new clothes, and then she'd had to separate herself from her peers for 4 hours, fasting, and thinking on her choice. Every hour, a different one of her masters would come in, and ask, in a solemn voice,
"Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, nai el' Kiin, sel du vid lesa?" (Tayli, Soul of power, child of the Kiin, do you want this?)
And each time she would answer, voice steady, "Ti, Kien, mi sen." (Yes, Master, I do.)
The last of her masters to come was Menlan, and after her answer, he'd motioned for her to rise. Tayli had risen and then dropped into the most respectful bow the Kiin used, one she'd only ever practiced before (A/N: More on that later). Then she'd silently followed him into the woods, where the ritual clearing had been prepared. A huge bonfire crackled in the middle of it, and all the past graduates that had stayed, many that hadn't, and all her masters stood in a half circle around it, solemn faced. Only those who had already been initiated were allowed to the ceremony. A steady beat of drums had tapped out the ancient, strange rhythms of the Kiin. Tayli had stood before the bonfire, at the open part of the clearing. The drums had faded into the background as her four masters came up to her, Menlan holding a wrapped object flat across his palms. Then, again;
"Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, nai el' Kiin, sel du vid lesa?" (Tayli, Soul of power, daughter of the Kiin, do you want this?) Her masters had chanted, the drum accompanying their words.
"Ti, mi sen, mi saran Tayli el' Kiin!" (Yes, I do, I am Tayli of the Kiin!) She'd replied, loudly, steadily, utterly sure. An approving murmur had come from the spectators, instantly cut off as the Masters turned as one to address them over the crackling bonfire.
"Nain el' Kiin, sel dul vila Tayli kel een el' dul?" (Children of the Kiin, do you accept Tayli as one of you?) And a great roar had gone up, a roar of approval, as they had all shouted, "Ti!" (Yes!). And the Masters had turned, still solemn, and Menlan had stepped forward, unwrapping the bundle he held in his hands. There was a complete silence as he, slowly, held out his left hand, balancing the sword in the other.
Tayli, knowing the custom perfectly, had extended her right hand, palm up. Menlan had, delicately holding the sword, made a nick in her right palm, and then pressed the hilt of the sword into her hand, stopping the blood flow. Slowly, as if in a dream, Tayli had felt her sword, hers, for the first time, and she'd raised it above her head with both hands so that the perfect blade reflected the fire and caused a blaze of color. Then, in utter triumph, and strangely still in custom, she'd thrown back her head and shouted for all to hear,
"Mi saran Tayli el' Kiin! Kanai el' kumme!" (I am Tayli of the Kiin! Soul of power!) A huge roar had gone up from the crowd in answer as they stomped their feet in time to the complicated drum-patterns, as the spectators took on a loud chant, the rough equivalent of a victory song (A/N: In modern times, think a college team's fight song). And, slowly, twirling her new blade in with the steps so that sword and woman joined in intricate movements, Tayli had danced to the drum beats, improvising, a pure dance that was all about power being released, proving herself. Her movements became more intricate as the tempo increased, and then, when the expectancy had raised to the breaking point, she'd raised her sword above her head with two hands and gave a huge, wordless victory cry, and all the Kiin's voices had joined hers, and then they had all begun to dance, stamping and moving and twirling to the ancient drumbeats. If any court-raised noble had seen them then, it would have seemed like the dance of savages.
The dancing and chanting had gone on till morning, when they had all eaten a large ceremonial breakfast, and, of course, distributed presents. After all, what's a celebration without presents?
Tayli thoughtfully stroked the scar on her right palm, remembering. But that wasn't all there was to the Kiin, oh no, there was much more.
They had a series of hand signals, in case words could not be spoken, for things like stop, silence, attack, move, duck, etc.
They had developed a series of bows as well: there was the most formal-the person went down on one knee, arms crossed on their chest, head bowed. This was only used towards Kings or other rulers, or during important ceremonies. It designated total trust because the person was at his most vulnerable. Then there was also an only slightly less formal bow, used for, say, a prince-the same posture was adopted, only the person bent at the waist instead of going down on one knee. There was the bow that Tayli used for her Masters-very respectful but at the same time les formal-the person bent at the waist and crossed their arms over their stomach, and then there was the bow amongst equals, the way a Master would bow to Tayli-bent at the waist with both hands on the sword hilt, or where it would be if they did not carry a sword. Each of these bows could become mocking or distrustful to a degree, depending on the amount of eye contact the bower made-this denoted wariness, and was, for example, a great offense to a King. Not that there were many Kings who realized this, but any other warriors would.
And there were still a million other things, from a person's constantly bold and upright posture to the area that their hands rested while speaking that all made a difference.
All of these signals and ways were universal-yes, that could have been the strangest thing about the Kiin-nothing differed amongst groups, they all used the same language, signals, and script to ensure the fullest cooperation possible. Of course, this deeper part of the Kiin was kept secret-no one but the warriors knew that there was any more than a fighting school, and it was assumed prudent that they not blab.
Tayli sighed, remembering, and knew that she unconsciously used all of these signals, whether her counterparts understood them or not. Smiling softly, she got ready for a short nap before they'd be forced to move on.
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A/N: Oh my gosh!!!!! That is by far the longest chapter I've ever written! YAY! I'm so proud of myself! Did anyone like the detailed description of the Kiin? I thought I'd give this story a little bit more depth, but god it was annoying to constantly translate! Thank you to all my reviewers and please review again!
By the way: I'm thinking of making a website on this so I can show all my adoring fans Kiil, and how Tayli and co. dress, etc. More on that later!
MAPLE ROSE: I know, I know, I should allow anonymous reviews, but my parents won't let me. Pooey. I know! I'm like a chapter machine now! LOL! And, with Tayli not hiding in the tree-I would make up an excuse, but to be completely honest, I needed something to make the story more interesting and couldn't resist!
BLUE-LA-SHOO: * Throws confetti back at you * I'm back! Yeah, the move went ok. Thank you for reviewing my ever-faithful reviewer! Tell me if you liked this chappie or not-was I too detailed?
WIND PRINCESS: Why aren't you updating? I wanna hear more about this Vidanric-who's-not-Vidanric dude! I absolutely loved writing this chapter! It was so much fun!
DORKEEGIRL168: I promise, if I ever abandon this again you can throw-uh- tomatoes at me! And eggs! EUW!
GOTHAMIN: Eek! Don't kill me, please! Guess what-I luff this story too! That makes two of us. Please, have mercy on me for not reviewing for so long! I'm sorry I'm sorry! * cries as Gothamin advances holding-uh-I dunno- some kind of weapon to implement torture* ;-D!
DON'T ASK: Thanks! I like to think that I'm a pretty decent writer-at least I don't get mixed up between tenses! I hate it when people do that!
AVIASTAR: No! Please please please review again! I hate losing reviewers! *pouts *
SHAYLEY RAIN: *pretending to be upset * A little more wouldn't kill ya ya know! Come on, don't I deserve a little more than 3 words? JK Thank you for the review! Was this chapter as good?
THANK YOU EVERYBODY!
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Around the same time that Michael, Natal, Frenery, Bertram, and William were giving Terian a severe talking to, Jonathan, sitting at the front of the cottage, heard a slight rustling noise to the side of it, where the horses were stabled. Bored, he decided he'd go see what had made their mounts so restless. Stretching, Jon rose, enjoying the feel of the sun on his toned body. He walked around the cottage and froze for a split-second at the shock of what was going on. Sir Samuel was there, surrounded by their packs, and he seemed to be very agilely-as far as it was possible with one hand-to be searching them. Already there was a small pile of possessions at his side-coins, frames, daggers, and anything else that was of value to the knights. The saddlebags, too, had been plundered, and the horses were shifting nervously at the strange man. But worst of all, Sir Garram was sprawled a small distance away, obviously out cold.
Sir Jon felt a rage build in him, a rage at the man who had stolen their trust and knocked out their healer, a rage at the bad luck that had cast him on their trail, but most of all, a rage at themselves, and most of all himself, for believing him so naively. It only lasted a split second before he'd taken it all in and acted upon it, and 'Sir Samuel' found a blade hovering an inch away from his chest.
"Don't move," Jonathan growled out, "Don't even speak until I say so." The thief froze, terrorized into obeying.
It was almost half an hour before the fighting party trooped back, and Jon's arm was beginning to get sore. He could tell by the thief's tense posture that he must be cramping up also.
"Well, well, well," Michael said. "What have we here?"
It didn't take long before the whole story was forced out of the man. His real name was Joseph Monk, and he was a professional thief on the run from the authorities in Lubran. He had been stealing from the black-cloaked man when said person had attacked him, and had later attacked Garram, planning on taking what he could, including a new mount, and running off. Unfortunately, the thief hadn't known that Sir Jon was staying behind too.
And, with this revelation, and Terian's assurances that the man had, indeed, saved him, the knights' trust in Tayli was restored-at least, almost.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Tayli knew all this, of course. Why shouldn't she? She was always watching them, and now hadn't been an exception. After treating her own wounds (which had stung, but she'd bit her tongue and lived), she had gone back to watching and being there. But it was evening now, and the knights, who had resigned themselves to another night in the cottage, were bedding down. Tayli moved away and did so as well, and then relaxed against a tree, thinking.
She took her sword out of its sheath and just admired it, as she'd done so many times since she'd gotten it two years ago. The pommel stone seemed to be aflame inside it, catching the dying sun's last rays and changing them in the depths of it to burst out again in a flame of every shade purple, red, and blue. It was a breathtakingly beautiful stone, cut round and cool when she put her hands to it.
The leather-wrapped hilt fit her hand perfectly, the leather worn at the fingertips and palm, so that her hands fit into long-made grooves whenever she held it, reveling in the power that she could almost feel humming through her bones when she held the deadly weapon that was all her own.
The blade reflected the sunset too, turning it into liquid fire as the light played along the shining, honed edge, bring the groove in the center and the strange, flowing script etched into the blade into sharp detail. Tayli traced her hand over the inscription. It was in the secret language of all the warrior organizations, Kiil (A/N: Key-ill), the flowing script beautiful and graceful, yet dangerous in its beauty, because it often held secrets that had been well hidden for a good reason (A/N: For the writing, think of something like a cross between cursive and Arabic).
Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, the inscriptions read. Tayli, Soul of power.
Most people thought, if they ever came upon a training school or group of warriors, that they were nothing more than a group of shallow fighters, mercenaries. How wrong they were. Warriors were part of a hidden civilization, with a history, stories, and customs. They called themselves the Protectors, the Kiin. (A/N: Key-in)
The Kiin had been founded, centuries and centuries ago, by a man, Kael (A/N: Ki-el) sick of all the evil that was happening around him, sick of all the bad that people did. He invited the best of the best of fighters to go away with him, hide themselves, and devote their lives to fighting for justice, and training others to carry on their mission. They took orphans and promising young lads, and led them away, and became the legend that they were now. The boys were trained in fighting, but they also became learned, and courteous, and many became wise. And on their sixteenth birthday, each young man would set out with a small mission, challenging but not all that dangerous, and, when they returned, became a warrior. Later, when these boys grew older, they would become the trainers, and carry the burden on their strong shoulders. The Kiin developed their own language, their own writing, signals, and etiquette, all-important for a group that functioned well, and spread over many, many countries.
Tayli had been named for one of the Kiin's legends (all based on fact, but slightly twisted with time), a spunky girl who had once saved a country because of her willpower and resistance. She had been the daughter of a Kiin master, and later became the friend and confidant of the crown prince. He had entrusted all of his and his country's secrets to her when a tyrant king and his cronies, who'd wanted to take over the prince's country, had captured her. But, no matter what they did to her, she didn't betray her friend's trust. And when, at last, she could not take it anymore, she'd given them directions straight into an enchanted forest, fooling her stupid captors easily.
That Tayli had returned from her ordeal almost dead, spirit broken and raving because of the continuous torture they'd put her through, but she had locked her friend's secret in her heart, and wouldn't let it go.
No one knew precisely what happened to the old Tayli afterwards. Some said she was nursed back to health and became the crown prince's bride, some said she died afterwards, some even said she died before the war was over, and then there were those select few who were of the opinion that, no, she hadn't died and had never married, but became a wise woman and served her country her whole life.
And this was the woman that Tayli had been named after, and, so far, she'd lived up to the expectations and did indeed have a soul of power.
Tayli remembered her initiation well. She'd just completed her mission, protecting a huge transfer of gold for workmen's wages, and had come home triumphantly, to be welcomed by all.
That night, she'd gone into a purifying sweat-lodge, dressed in completely new clothes, and then she'd had to separate herself from her peers for 4 hours, fasting, and thinking on her choice. Every hour, a different one of her masters would come in, and ask, in a solemn voice,
"Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, nai el' Kiin, sel du vid lesa?" (Tayli, Soul of power, child of the Kiin, do you want this?)
And each time she would answer, voice steady, "Ti, Kien, mi sen." (Yes, Master, I do.)
The last of her masters to come was Menlan, and after her answer, he'd motioned for her to rise. Tayli had risen and then dropped into the most respectful bow the Kiin used, one she'd only ever practiced before (A/N: More on that later). Then she'd silently followed him into the woods, where the ritual clearing had been prepared. A huge bonfire crackled in the middle of it, and all the past graduates that had stayed, many that hadn't, and all her masters stood in a half circle around it, solemn faced. Only those who had already been initiated were allowed to the ceremony. A steady beat of drums had tapped out the ancient, strange rhythms of the Kiin. Tayli had stood before the bonfire, at the open part of the clearing. The drums had faded into the background as her four masters came up to her, Menlan holding a wrapped object flat across his palms. Then, again;
"Tayli, Kanai el' kumme, nai el' Kiin, sel du vid lesa?" (Tayli, Soul of power, daughter of the Kiin, do you want this?) Her masters had chanted, the drum accompanying their words.
"Ti, mi sen, mi saran Tayli el' Kiin!" (Yes, I do, I am Tayli of the Kiin!) She'd replied, loudly, steadily, utterly sure. An approving murmur had come from the spectators, instantly cut off as the Masters turned as one to address them over the crackling bonfire.
"Nain el' Kiin, sel dul vila Tayli kel een el' dul?" (Children of the Kiin, do you accept Tayli as one of you?) And a great roar had gone up, a roar of approval, as they had all shouted, "Ti!" (Yes!). And the Masters had turned, still solemn, and Menlan had stepped forward, unwrapping the bundle he held in his hands. There was a complete silence as he, slowly, held out his left hand, balancing the sword in the other.
Tayli, knowing the custom perfectly, had extended her right hand, palm up. Menlan had, delicately holding the sword, made a nick in her right palm, and then pressed the hilt of the sword into her hand, stopping the blood flow. Slowly, as if in a dream, Tayli had felt her sword, hers, for the first time, and she'd raised it above her head with both hands so that the perfect blade reflected the fire and caused a blaze of color. Then, in utter triumph, and strangely still in custom, she'd thrown back her head and shouted for all to hear,
"Mi saran Tayli el' Kiin! Kanai el' kumme!" (I am Tayli of the Kiin! Soul of power!) A huge roar had gone up from the crowd in answer as they stomped their feet in time to the complicated drum-patterns, as the spectators took on a loud chant, the rough equivalent of a victory song (A/N: In modern times, think a college team's fight song). And, slowly, twirling her new blade in with the steps so that sword and woman joined in intricate movements, Tayli had danced to the drum beats, improvising, a pure dance that was all about power being released, proving herself. Her movements became more intricate as the tempo increased, and then, when the expectancy had raised to the breaking point, she'd raised her sword above her head with two hands and gave a huge, wordless victory cry, and all the Kiin's voices had joined hers, and then they had all begun to dance, stamping and moving and twirling to the ancient drumbeats. If any court-raised noble had seen them then, it would have seemed like the dance of savages.
The dancing and chanting had gone on till morning, when they had all eaten a large ceremonial breakfast, and, of course, distributed presents. After all, what's a celebration without presents?
Tayli thoughtfully stroked the scar on her right palm, remembering. But that wasn't all there was to the Kiin, oh no, there was much more.
They had a series of hand signals, in case words could not be spoken, for things like stop, silence, attack, move, duck, etc.
They had developed a series of bows as well: there was the most formal-the person went down on one knee, arms crossed on their chest, head bowed. This was only used towards Kings or other rulers, or during important ceremonies. It designated total trust because the person was at his most vulnerable. Then there was also an only slightly less formal bow, used for, say, a prince-the same posture was adopted, only the person bent at the waist instead of going down on one knee. There was the bow that Tayli used for her Masters-very respectful but at the same time les formal-the person bent at the waist and crossed their arms over their stomach, and then there was the bow amongst equals, the way a Master would bow to Tayli-bent at the waist with both hands on the sword hilt, or where it would be if they did not carry a sword. Each of these bows could become mocking or distrustful to a degree, depending on the amount of eye contact the bower made-this denoted wariness, and was, for example, a great offense to a King. Not that there were many Kings who realized this, but any other warriors would.
And there were still a million other things, from a person's constantly bold and upright posture to the area that their hands rested while speaking that all made a difference.
All of these signals and ways were universal-yes, that could have been the strangest thing about the Kiin-nothing differed amongst groups, they all used the same language, signals, and script to ensure the fullest cooperation possible. Of course, this deeper part of the Kiin was kept secret-no one but the warriors knew that there was any more than a fighting school, and it was assumed prudent that they not blab.
Tayli sighed, remembering, and knew that she unconsciously used all of these signals, whether her counterparts understood them or not. Smiling softly, she got ready for a short nap before they'd be forced to move on.
$$$$$$$$$$$$
A/N: Oh my gosh!!!!! That is by far the longest chapter I've ever written! YAY! I'm so proud of myself! Did anyone like the detailed description of the Kiin? I thought I'd give this story a little bit more depth, but god it was annoying to constantly translate! Thank you to all my reviewers and please review again!
By the way: I'm thinking of making a website on this so I can show all my adoring fans Kiil, and how Tayli and co. dress, etc. More on that later!
MAPLE ROSE: I know, I know, I should allow anonymous reviews, but my parents won't let me. Pooey. I know! I'm like a chapter machine now! LOL! And, with Tayli not hiding in the tree-I would make up an excuse, but to be completely honest, I needed something to make the story more interesting and couldn't resist!
BLUE-LA-SHOO: * Throws confetti back at you * I'm back! Yeah, the move went ok. Thank you for reviewing my ever-faithful reviewer! Tell me if you liked this chappie or not-was I too detailed?
WIND PRINCESS: Why aren't you updating? I wanna hear more about this Vidanric-who's-not-Vidanric dude! I absolutely loved writing this chapter! It was so much fun!
DORKEEGIRL168: I promise, if I ever abandon this again you can throw-uh- tomatoes at me! And eggs! EUW!
GOTHAMIN: Eek! Don't kill me, please! Guess what-I luff this story too! That makes two of us. Please, have mercy on me for not reviewing for so long! I'm sorry I'm sorry! * cries as Gothamin advances holding-uh-I dunno- some kind of weapon to implement torture* ;-D!
DON'T ASK: Thanks! I like to think that I'm a pretty decent writer-at least I don't get mixed up between tenses! I hate it when people do that!
AVIASTAR: No! Please please please review again! I hate losing reviewers! *pouts *
SHAYLEY RAIN: *pretending to be upset * A little more wouldn't kill ya ya know! Come on, don't I deserve a little more than 3 words? JK Thank you for the review! Was this chapter as good?
THANK YOU EVERYBODY!