((Yea, my first Pit Dragon fan-fiction! Okay, like oh-so-many authors, reviews and constructive criticism are what keeps me going! (NOTE: Constructive criticism does NOT mean flames. For example, I do not accept reviews that tell me how much I suck - unless stated in a joking manner. I do, however, accept reviews in which I'm told what I could do better in the story. Simply telling someone they're doing something wrong doesn't help. It's telling them what they're doing wrong that does.)
With that in mind, I do not, nor am I claiming to own any of Jane Yolen's characters, plot-ideas, or locations. These are solely her creations, and should not be treated as one's own. I, myself, own Akkima, Nakkira, the offworlder, the freeman, and several minor characters who will show up occasionally.
Let's head on to the story!))
Akkima covered her face with her hands, huddled against the harsh desert winds that swept her bond bag to and fro across her chest and over her shoulders. She lifted one hand to pick her hair out of her mouth, but left the other stubbornly covering her eyes. As soon as she opened her mouth, the wind spit hot sand into it, causing her to cough and choke. At last the violent winds lessened in their fury and she lifted her hand from her brow.
The surrounding oasis was both bleak and beautifully natural, as she could now see. A deep pool of water, deep enough for a small child to swim through, but only deep enough for a grown-up to wade through was in front of her, and leading to that a stream, which she could only guess led to one of the major rivers of Austar. Surrounding the pool were ivory-pale burnwort and blisterweed stalks, still not ripe enough to harvest. When they were, she would know. They would send up smoky signals in the air, and, if one wasn't careful, could leave nasty burns. The horizon, she could see, was specked here and there with what Akkima knew to be mountains. The sky, blue as ever, peppered with wispy cirrus clouds and the occasional dragon or obiter, all set its center at a big, yellow sun.
She slid to the pool, the hot desert sand burning her legs. She peered into the water, the sand falling from her hair making soft ripples. As the water calmed, Akkima tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed, catching a rare - if distorted - glimpse of herself in the water. Her dark blonde hair was in complete disarray, a sure horror to comb through later. Still, it framed her thin face well, even if it did constantly fall into her eyes. Her eyes, what she thought of as her best feature, were a dark, emerald green and bore a perpetually calm gaze. She was proud not to have any scars or blood scores, even on her hands with which she worked every day in the wort and weed fields. The metal chain of the bond-bag felt good, cold against her neck, and she knew that if she had even a sole coin it would feel equally good against her skin.
Akkima looked up to the sky. She marveled at how quickly it had become dark. Of course it wasn't pitch yet - darkness didn't fall in solid curtains; rather, it fell in sheer. But, as she could see, Akkhan was just beginning to lip the horizon, meaning his little brother, Akka, wouldn't be far behind in that unending game of chase the moons had.
She rose quickly, and her sudden shift of balance threw her off, nearly making her topple into the big patch of burnwort. Akkima bent over and groped for the sand-brush, her eyes closed as her mouth stretched in a yawn. Akkhan was in full view now, and the silvery light it threw on the oasis gave it a life of its own, and Akkima bade it farewell for one more night.
The way back to the dragon nursery seemed painstakingly slow, the seconds inching by painfully. Akkima walked, hunched over, brushing away her footsteps. A collapsible brush, she would remember, was a lot easier. At last, she reached the civilization of the worm farm. Akkima had risen, and it was now as bright as dawn. But it was a cold, false dawn. She knew what to expect. After this, as every Austarian knew, came the bone-chilling cold of Dark After. Everyone knew that to leave shelter during this time was suicide.
Akkima, keeping this in mind, hurried to the tool shed. It was a dusty shed, despite its constant use, and, like every other building at the dragonry, it was made of sand-brick and wood. She walked in and, past the seeds of wort and weed and all of the farming supplies, put the brush among the others.
Less of fear of being caught than eagerness for the next day, Akkima hurriedly closed the door and ran stealthily to the girls' bondhouse. A midnight silhouette, maybe a younger bonder, ran just as quickly out of his bondhouse. Akkima's heart pounded. If he was headed to the oasis - if he had found it, if he returned, it might mean telling him what she was up to, or - even worse - quitting altogether. And I'm not ready to do either of those things, she thought bitterly.
She watched the figure seemingly inch away from its bondhouse. The cold was almost unbearable already, and half of her wanted to motion to the boy to go back inside, but another part didn't want to risk him asking why she was out. Half-making up her mind, Akkima sneaked into the bondhouse as quietly as she could. If the boy knew what was good for himself, he would go inside before he froze to death.
((Yeah… It's not the best, and it's awfully short, but I think it'll do. I hope next chapter will be longer!
Anyway, since I love my reviewers so much, I will occasionally take suggestions on what they think should happen. If I think that will head the story in the wrong direction, though, I won't take your advice. But. Much love for the reviewers.:luff: ))