Disclaimer: Well you would have to be stupid to think it but anyway...I don't own any of the Tamora Pierce characters eg. Onua, Numair/Arram, Alanna or Tahoi...

(-a/n- Hello! Now the exams are over I can return to the wonderful world of fan fiction -cheers loudly-! So I decided to write this one-shot, as it is something I've been meaning to do for a long time. And I'm also very hyper as my hockey team has just qualified for the Sussex finals, having won the semi-finals this evening! I'm so happy!

We will start on the sequel to Much ado about shorts, next weekend, as I think that double Chemistry tomorrow will give us ample opportunity to discuss the plot. The sequel will be called 'A Midsummer Knight's Dream' and will continue directly from where Much ado about shorts left off. For now you'll have to be content with this one-shot about Onua.

In the Immortals series it mentions that Onua was left to die by her husband and that Tahoi saved her. This is my tale of what happened. Enjoy!) (Please review)

Confusedknight xxx

Onua Chamtong of the K'miri Raadeh was one of seven children. She had had a peaceful childhood, growing up with her brothers and sisters, playing and riding the horses owned by her father. One day disaster struck, one of her father's best horses had been diagnosed with strike. A deadly disease with no cure, one day the horse would be fine and have no symptoms the next, it could barely walk, it was named the Strike for these reasons. The horse, Chamira was killed immediately, but it was too late, the next day three more horses couldn't stand up. The young Onua and her siblings hid upstairs and listened to their parents worried voices.

'We could lose our whole stock.' Whispered Onua's ma fretfully.

'All we can do is pray to Chavi Westwind that no more of our horses catch the strike.' Said Hammed, her husband.

That night Onua prayed harder than she had ever done before, 'Please make our horses better, Horse Lords please, help us.'

Only one horse survived the strike, the family was not the happy, carefree family it had once been. If they had no horses, they had no income, and no income meant no food for the long winter months.

Ahammed, Onua's oldest brother was sent away to work in their Uncle's forge. Her older sister Miray, married a tanner in the village. One day Onua was summoned to her mother who explained that one of the tribes who were travelling to the Raadeh tribe was looking for a wife, and that Hammed, had agreed that Onua should marry him. Onua protested, but was silenced at once.

'Onua, my daughter, you are thirteen, many girls your age are married and running households. I know it is not the way I had hoped you would be married, but the fates have changed somewhat, the winter is approaching and we cannot support all of you. At least you will be fed and kept warm, and with time you may grow to love him.'

Faren Tanskorth of the K'miri Sho'ad came to the Chamtong's house and Onua's dowry was agreed. They were married hurriedly because Faren needed to return to his home, which rested many miles from the Raadeh tribe. Onua Chamtong of the K'miri Raadeh became Onua Tanskorth of the K'miri Sho'ad and she travelled with her new husband for twelve days and nights until they reached their new home.

Faren was broad and surly, he had dark hair and even darker eyes, when he spoke, it was with a deep rumbling growl and his eyebrows were constantly knitted in a frown. Onua was nervous around him and spoke little. He in return, said nothing and the majority of the journey passed in silence.

By the time they reached their home, it was dark and Onua saw little of the dingy, dilapidated old house, in which she would spend the next three years. A dog greeted them at the door, bouncing up excitedly at the company. Faren kicked him away, sending the dog flying, ' 'tis Tahoi, he's naught but a pup and needs to be taught discipline.' He said in reply to Onua's horrified look. But things only got worse, as they turned in for the night he indicated that as a married couple they would be sharing the only bed in the household. Tahoi slept outside, whining at the cries and sobs of his new mistress.

Faren left for work early in the morning, he was a metal-smith by trade and worked metal into anything and everything from horse shoes to curtain rails. Leaving Onua locked in the house with Tahoi for company. Before he left, he had told her to clean up the house. Finding little to clean it with, Onua washed the bed-sheets, swept the floor and cleaned up the small wooden table. That evening he came home and was angry to find that no dinner awaited him, ignoring Onua's protests that there was nothing to cook with, he slapped her and she crumpled to the floor. And taking the money that was in his bag, the money from Onua's dowry, he went down to the village Inn, leaving a sobbing Onua on the kitchen floor.

And it was in this way that three years passed. Living a mile away from the village meant that Onua had no contact with anyone, Faren kept her locked away isolated and Onua withdrew into herself. Her soul was no longer childish and carefree, but worn and tainted by her misery. No more tears could fall, she had cried for too long, she had finally accepted that she would never see her family again, they lived too far away. At night Faren came home drunk, shouting at her, telling her what an ungrateful wife she was and what a burden she was. Tahoi, now fully grown, was her only friend, she sat talking to him for many hours during the day, she was being driven mad by the house pressing in all around her, that contained only memories of sadness. Any hope that she would one day escape deserted her, resigned to a life of degradation.

Yet, still late at night, she prayed to the Horse Lords, that one day she could be free of Faren and this dreadful place. Willing with all her might, that one day, her prayers would be answered.

She lost track of days, though she estimated she must have been married to him for about three years, when one day she discovered that he had left the door open. She stepped out into the light of the sun, the same sun under which she had spent so many hours riding as a child. And looking down into the village on the distance, where a pool of water reflected the bright sun, she remembered the reasons for living. The harsh beauty of the world drew her out of the madness which encompassed her, and set her free, her old spirit returned, breaking through the hard shell in which she had been living for so long.

Not really knowing where she was going, she set off for the village, just glad to be alive and away from her prison. When, halfway towards the village a wave of sickness overcame her and she fell to her knees retching. The sun was blinding her, her head ached and her limbs trembled violently, unused to the exercise. For how long she lay there, she didn't know. But when Faren returned from work early, as he always did on Firesday (-a/n- This is Friday in The Will of the Empress, so I'm taking it to be the same in Tortall.) Already intoxicated from a tankard of beer, he was enraged to find his wife lying in the Sho'ad road.

He dragged her back to the house as she tried desperately to walk and he threw her against the wall.

'What did you think you were doing?' He roared, lashing out at her with his foot, and hitting her stomach, causing her to curl up.

'Answer me!' He yelled, enraged.

He reigned blows down upon her curled up form, he hit her and kicked her till her skin was covered in bruises. Then, taking out a knife, he viciously cut away her locks of black hair. He then ran the blade along her back, leaving a trail of blood.

'You whore,' he spat, 'You were sneaking of to another man.'

'No,' she gasped, horrified.

'Liar! You aren't satisfied with me. Little slut, I knew it was a mistake to marry you, but I needed the money.'

And he began to kick her again, panting hard, Onua rolled away, trying to escape her husband's fury. He trod on her left arm, to stop her getting away and she screamed as his weight broke her arm. He stepped back to look disgustedly at his wife.

Suddenly Onua screamed and clutched with her good arm at her stomach.

'Ow!' She moaned.

'Be quiet, before I really give you something to cry about.'

'Faren, I need to tell you..' she screamed as more pain overcame her. 'Faren I'm pregnant.'

Then it clicked, his wife moaning on the floor when she was no where near enough to give birth, the blood that was pooling out from underneath her skirts.

'You killed my baby!' He roared.

'No!' Shrieked Onua.

'Yes you did!' And he advanced on her with the knife, but then seemed to have a better idea.

'Did you know that the King's soldiers are advancing this way?'

Onua shook her head, tears streaming down her scrunched up face.

'Of course you wouldn't, you don't know nothing, stupid little bitch. Anyway, they are moving this way, killin' and pillaging'' And with an even nastier smile he said, 'And do you know what they do to women like you? They'll get their fun out of you and then…' He drew one long finger across his broad neck.

And with that he turned away from his wife and gathering up his few possessions, left, leaving Onua bleeding heavily on the dirty, earthen floor.

In her pain she lost track of all time and reason. Tahoi stood by her, keeping guard. Eventually her bleeding slowed and her miscarried baby lay in a pool of blood next to her. She hurt all over, and made no effort to move herself from the floor. Tahoi whined gently and nudged her with his wet nose. She heard the noise of soldiers approaching, the tramping of hooves on the path and the sound of armour clinking. Looking into Tahoi's eyes she realised that when the soldiers came he would be killed.

He doesn't deserve that, she thought and, summoning up her last strands of resilience, she dragged herself into the corner of the room and telling Tahoi to sit next to her, she used her gift to shield them from view. Using her own blood to draw the protective circle.

The soldiers entered, and peered around, seeing the blood on the floor they searched the house thoroughly.

'There's naught here but us, must've got wind of us comin'.'

'Lets torch the place, then no more country bastards will be livin' 'ere'

And to Onua's horror, the savage looking man set the kitchen table alight before leaving with his friends.

Thick smoke burned at Onua's eyes, she tried to get up but using her gift had drained her of any leftover strength, as she watched the chairs and threadbare rug ignite, she slipped into unconsciousness, smoke filling her worn out lungs. Feeling a tugging at her elbow she realised that Tahoi was dragging her past the burning table and out into the fresh air. Her broken arm throbbed and her elbow was burned by the searing heat. She blacked out again and resigned herself to death.

Tahoi, dragged his mistress out of the building and into the shade of the bushes. She was a mess, covered in soot, and her own blood. He licked Onua's cheek gently and gradually her eyes flickered open, she began to cough up the smoke that was choking her lungs. He realised that the woman, who had cared for him all these years needed help desperately. And he, Tahoi, swore by the God's of the People that he would do everything in his power to help the broken woman that lay before him. He lay down next to her nudging her and eventually she seemed to understand what he was trying to convey to her.

She rolled onto his back and hung on grimly, malnourished, she weighed next to nothing, and Tahoi's broad form, fit and muscular from hunting, carried her easily. They rested for the night at a nearby stream, where his mistress gulped thirstily at the cold water. They began their eastward journey, Tahoi running, with Onua gripping to his mane of shaggy fur. He hunted some rabbit and the women seemed so hungry she ate it raw with him, half animal herself she guzzled at the meat.

Whether the Horse Lords had answered her prayers or not, Tahoi picked up the scent of some humans, and tracked them eastward. On the third morning of her escape, on the borders of Tyra, Tahoi and Onua arrived at the scene of a battle field. On one side, dirty dishevelled soldiers in the same uniforms as those who had torched Onua's house, fought against a small army. Tahoi sensed that these would be the side to ask for help, their mounts were well cared for and were fighting not because they were forced to, but because they wished to protect their masters. The horse's war cries filled the air around Tahoi and he was tempted to join the fray. Instead, he carried Onua clear of the battle field to where the tents of the horsemen were. Depositing Onua in the trees he skulked at the edge of the camp. When the sun set, the foreign army had triumphed and had returned to the camp. One warrior in particular caught his eye, he was short with flaming red hair and seemed to use a different trench to all the others. When he had finished using the trench he trotted over to the man, who whirled around, sword pointed at Tahoi's throat. He saw that the warrior was in fact a female, he whined and turned, running backward and forth indicating that she should follow. This women however was obviously more stupid than his mistress as she didn't understand his motions.

Sighing inwardly he hurried back to Onua, whose breathing was now growing fainter still, and dragging her behind him, he made his way back to the motionless warrior. He nudged Onua worriedly and the warrior hurried forward, calling over her shoulder for help. Soon a young man with dark hair and a worried expression arrive, upon seeing Onua, he spoke in the language of the two-leggers and Onua began to float away. I yelped and followed as they carried my mistress back to the camp. She was placed in a tent out of my vision, yet I understood, she was in safe hands. So I resigned myself to wait, wondering what was happening inside the canvas house that the two-leggers seemed to live in.

Alanna examined her patient and gasped when she saw the extent of her injuries. Already worn out by the healings she had performed on the soldiers, she called Arram back.

'Arram, if you don't help me that woman will die.'

'Its not proper for me to be in there, while she's unclothed, and it's Numair now, Numair Salimalin, not Arram.'

'Numair,' said Alanna irritated. 'If the woman's life is in question I don't care what's proper.' And she gave him such a murderous look that he quailed and joined her inside the tent. Looking down onto the woman's body he saw that bruised mottled every inch of it, cuts leaked blood. Her hair was cut unevenly short and her eyes were closed. She was terribly then and her chest barely rose and fell. Her legs were covered with blood, her arm hung at an awkward angle and part of her skin was burned and blistered, what moved him most was the tear tracks on her soot covered cheeks. Who could do that to a woman he thought?

Alanna was running her hands over the woman's frail body, her eyes closed assessing the damage with her gift. A compound fracture in her left arm, burns, bruising, internal bleeding, lungs damaged by smoke, many cuts and abrasions, and she has recently undergone a miscarriage.

Numair allowed what remained of his gift to be channelled by Alanna. He helped her splint the arm and wiped at her face with a damp cloth. Alanna used up the remainder of her gift, to heal the internal injuries in her lungs and prevented more haemorrhaging from the miscarriage. The rest of the woman's cuts were bandaged manually and eventually she was dressed in a shirt and loose breeches.

Alanna kept an intensive watch over her patient and about two hours later the woman regained consciousness, her dark eyes looked tormented, as they darted around searching for something.

'Where's Tahoi?' She mumbled in common.

'Tahoi?'

'The dog, he saved me.'

'He will be fed and cared for.'

Only then did the woman take in her surroundings.

'Where am I?'

'You are currently residing in the tent of the King's Champion of Tortall, on the border of Tyra.'

'King's Champion?' Said the woman, her eyes looking around nervously for the champion.

'Where is he?'

'Actually I'm the King's Champion, Sir Alanna at your service.'

'The Lioness?' Squeaked Onua.

'Well, yes actually,' said Alanna disgruntled that the news of her deeds had travelled this far. 'And you are?'

'Onua….Onua Chamtong of the K'miri Raadeh.' Said Onua, reverting to her childhood name.

The women chatted, Alanna slowly gaining Onua's confidence, Alanna found it nice to talk to a woman, surrounded as she was by men. Alanna noticed that Onua never let anything slip about how she had retained her injuries. A week later, with her arm still in plaster, Onua was able to get up, and Alanna found her one day murmuring softly to the horses.

'Like horses do you?'

'Yes, my family used to kept horses for a living.' Onua turned away, pressing her face into the horses shoulder.'

'If you come back to Tortall, I might be able to get you a job in the stables.' Offered Alanna.

'They let women do those sorts of jobs?'

'Well, they do now.' Grinned Alanna.

Onua walked away, looking forward to the future, and not lingering on the past. Alanna went over to Moonlight, and fingered the stains on his coat, where tears had been soaked up. And she wondered if one day she could find out the truth about Onua. If one day Onua would trust her enough to tell.

But for now she admired Onua's strong character, for the future only comes one step at a time and Onua was taking steps along the road to recovery, watched all the while by faithful Tahoi.

The end

(-a/n- Hmm…Not a bad fic, but not my best either, anyway, please review and tell me what you think, It was just an idea, which I have turned into something I hope you have enjoyed reading :D )