Author's Note

Thank you kindly for your reviews... And yes. I do know my story has some verb-tense problems. But seeing as I disagree with both my English teacher and my last set of reviewers... (though you were alot nicer about it, thank you!) I'm just going to leave the story the way it is. I like the way I write it... ie: You could just go over and pick something up. You could have picked it up. OR you are picking it up. (I picked the coat up on the way to the door. I pick up the coat and make my way to the door. Picking up my coat, I make my way to the door.) Think of it as telling someone your doing something as your doing it. Like you're on the phone. There's a tapping noise and your friend asks what it is and you say, "Oh, I'm just tapping my pen."

Chapter Three - Good Day 'mates Today us Croc's are going Bakura huntin'
Twenty minutes after getting the raft, I quickly abandoned it where I presumed was 10 miles from the nearest town. I had kept thinking 'Just a few more bends in the river, then I'll be there, then I can get rid of the rotting pile of fish behind me.' But after a while, I really couldn't take it any longer. It was had gotten hot aboard the raft, and the sun had risen to its highest point in the sky.

The fish smell is going from bad to worse as the day goes on, and any hopes of selling the fish disappears clear out of my mind. It's attracting crocodiles, even flies, and for that time of the day, that was bad news.

Why? Well it isn't often the flies thought getting food was more important than laying low in the shady water towards the banks of the river. On top of that otherwise bad news, I also have a headache that was insisting on pounding so loud I couldn't think. I flick another fly off my arm and sigh angrily at myself.

"This wasn't your best idea, Bakura," I insulted myself, "Really now... you can do better. Your survival depends on a witty yet still clever mind."

I pull up the pole and shoved it back in the mud and silt settled at the bottom of the river, and I push the boat towards shore. I make my way through the reeds, until at last the raft rubs up along solid ground. I jump off and pull the raft up some more onto the bank to hide it. Not that anyone is going to steal it. This boat isn't going anywhere anyways.

"I reek of dead fish. I'm in the middle of no where and..." I look up to see if there was any new obstacle that the gods may have put there just to spite me. I should have been less surprised when I noticed a crocodile staring back up at me and then make it's towards the raft hungrily, "...and oh shit. I forgot I was being followed by those damn crocs!"

I grabbed the pole from the raft and hold it in front of me protectively while walking around the crocodile, towards the nearest date palm on the bank. The crocodile pays me no mind, thank Sahkmet, and instead it trots towards the raft. I let out a long relived sigh. My headache is worse. I walk towards the trees. My headache is a lot worse and I want to just flop down when I reach the shade. I take another step. Damn. Is it hot out or what? My head hurt. Why is the shade going farther away? It's hot out. My head hurts!

Oh great. I'm going delusional from the heat. I walk into what I can only think to be some stupid farmer and pass out. Too tired. Can't go on right now. The heat of the high noon sun is killer... Oh well, at least I'm the in shade... so why not just pass out? Maybe that croc would be hungry and coming looking for me and... Wait a sec. Why am I being carried?'

Through my pounding headache I slowly open my eyes and catch a glimpse of the guy I ran into. It wasn't a guy at all. It's a kid, with pretty blond hair and sparkly purply eyes and tan skin and gold earrings and I'm starting to feel a little dizzy... Nighty, night...

Chapter Four - Citrus soaps and fancy textile pillows.
 I groan and then breathe in the scent of soapy citrus fruits. My head begins to swim. I ignore it. My eyes flutter open to connect my observation of fancy citrus soaps to something solid. Well, nothing clicks in my brain. I see I'm on fluffy red and white assorted pillows. Some were common linen, others were silk, and more rare still, the one in front of my nose was velvet. Velvet. I stare at it and try to make another connection as to where I am. Still nothing comes. I stroke the velvet pillow with my fingertips like a thief who knows he's touching something he shouldn't. Like the thief I am.

I sit up on the pillows. My muscles tense, I ache all over, and my cheek sears as if connected to a red-hot knife. I quickly raise my hand up to caress the wound. When did I get this...? I stare blankly at the pillows and fall back down to their comfort. Yesterday night's memories hit me like a sword through my side.

"Kru-elna..." I choked, the pillows further muffling my already horse voice.

I curl up, lost in my memory. Last night ... last night ... and ... now? Now everyone was...dead. Gone. Me. Alone... A tear runs down my cheek. A single, short lived tear. I have to be strong. Who was responsible for yesterday? They will pay. I saw royal soldiers then. The palace? The pharaoh is old, crippled and for all I know might be dead already. The new pharaoh is clueless. But nothing goes on in the palace without an order from some pharaoh. I close my eyes and clench my fists. I let out a long breath. And when it came back in, it again came with the scent of expensive citrus soap.

Curse them. Curse them all! The entire palace! All of those blood thirsty aristocrats!!

I sigh again and change my train of thought back to where I may be. Expensive citrus soap. Fancy textile pillows. Still missing that connection...

Thank you, everyone! More reviews, please.