Making Friends:

Uma's POV

There was a bright glow coming from the windows as I walked into my family's old kitchen. Tiny dust particles hung in the air, illuminated by the warm light, as they slowly made their way to the floor like falling ashes. Mother was at the counter, sweeping crumbs from the bread she had just cut with her rag.

"Morning," she said, turning to greet me. It was strange to look at her, though I couldn't think at the moment why that should be. Pushing the nagging thought aside, I headed for the table.

"Morning! I'm getting my hair cut today," I told her, filling my plate with fresh bread and cheese.

"Just a few inches okay?"

I dropped my fork to the table with a heavy sigh. We had this discussion every time I went to Mrs. Evan's to get my hair cut. I always wanted my hair short- I'd look more grown up- but my mother would never let me. "But I've had long hair for years, mom! I want something different."

"But your long hair is so pretty Uma," she said, sitting down next to me and gently stroking my long locks. "I always wanted long princess hair when I was your age but my mother always made me cut it."

"So you're never going to let me cut mine?" I pouted, heaving a sigh.

"Oh Uma, I just don't want you to cut it and find out that you made a mistake. It will take years to grow all this back."

"Fine," I sighed, giving up. Standing from my seat, I headed for the front door. "Just a couple of inches."

"Thank you… have a good day."

I could tell she was worried I was mad at her. "I love you." I tell her as a reassurance I wasn't. Her face brightened once more.

"Love you too, Princess."

As I opened the door, the world around me changed. It was as if I had let the darkness in. There were flames in the tall pine trees of the forest, and billows of ember-spitting smoke rising up over our house, looking as though it would soon consume us. Screams from the villagers could be heard nearby and they only grew louder and more tortured with every passing second. The air stung my eyes and nose and as I backed up into the entryway, I felt myself step in something wet. It was thick and warm and I knew what it was even before I turned to glance behind.

There she was, just as I had found her on that day… her face lacerated, skirts bunched up over her thighs, lying in a pool of her own blood. Her lips were trembling, making ripples in the red sea that stretched out before her. She was looking at me… no, through me with panicked-filled eyes as she began to repeat one word over and over in chopped breaths.

"Run… run… run… run… run…"

She said it until she couldn't anymore… until what little life she clung to left her eyes. Turning to see what she had been looking at, I saw myself, a girl of eight running as fast as her legs could carry her towards the woods beyond our yard, that long princess hair flying out behind her.

My eyes shot open, my heart gripping in my chest as I was thrown from my dream. The first thing I noticed was that the light coming through my window was blinding. I tried to escape it by seeking shelter under my blanket but as I moved, I realized all my clothes were damp and my bed sheets were soaked through. Suddenly, the events from yesterday came flooding back to me and I became very much awake. I attempted to get out of bed but found myself cringing in pain. I was going to have to take this much slower than I'd first wanted.

Lying there, my thoughts drifted back to the dream and how real it had felt. I hadn't dreamed about my family in a long time. It had been months in fact… maybe more than half a year since I thought about my mother or what she looked like. Honestly, I could barely remember… I couldn't even be sure if my dream was an accurate rendering of her. Still, the experience left my heart racing below my seemingly groggy exterior and a hollowing feeling in my stomach. That mixed with the events from last night made me feel as if I was going to be sick.

I used to get panic attacks over dreams like this… I used to have night terrors at the orphanage. I'd scream in my sleep and wake all the children in the dead of night. But that was a long time ago and I've learned to control all of that since then. Still, I'm surprised when I dream about those days, even after sixteen years. They say that time heals everything… that's what a bull-shitter will tell you. Time only helps you forget. It only takes one moment, one incident, to have it all come screaming back. Those who can't learn to forget… those are the ones who don't heal.

Wincing in pain, I slowly sat up and drug my legs over the side of the mattress, my feet meeting with the cold, uninviting wood floor. My muscles and joints were extremely tender from all the running and my skin was cold and clammy on top of it all. Still, if that mystery person hadn't of brought me inside, I doubt I'd have been able to move.

I'll admit I should have been interested in the person's identity and in figuring out how to thank them. But all I was interested in right then was figuring out how to get dried off and warm. It took me a while, but I stripped myself of all my wet clothes so I could begin to raise my body temperature. Reaching under the bed, I pulled out my spare blanket and wrap it around my naked form. Stepping over to the chair next to my dresser, I sat down. Pulling all my hair over my shoulder, I grabbed up the brush off of my dresser and slowly brushed through it. Starting at the bottom, I worked out all the tangles till I finally made it to the top of my head. Once I was finished, I slung the long banner of wheat colored hair over my shoulder. Finally I was dry enough, so I stood up to get dressed. Once I looked halfway decent, I left for the mess hall.

"Princess, long time no see!" A familiar and grating voice called out. Of course, of all the people, it had to be Franc. He was oddly jovial about his greeting too.

"I saved your life," I mumbled, staring out from under my fringe at him. "Can't you just shut up?"

"Look, I didn't mean it like that…" he said, his tone honest.

"I don't care." Grabbing up a bowl of porridge from the table full of my squad mates, I headed for the door.

"Hey, who're you eating with?" He asked, leaning out of his seat to watch me pass by.

"Myself," I grumbled, gripping the spoon tightly in my hand. One more word and I'll...

"You'll eat with us or not at all," Levi spoke from behind me.

My eyes grew wide and my heart nearly halted in my chest upon hearing his voice. Shit… I thought I might get a reprieve from him this morning, but I guess not.

"Are you going to sit down or stand there like a little chicken shit?" he asked, bluntly. Wonderful, it seemed as if he was in full form.

My eyes immediately narrowed at his rude comment. I wanted to tell him I wasn't hungry, that I rather felt like going for a run instead, but I didn't dare. I was already in pretty deep shit with him as it was. So, I gritted my teeth and took the only empty seat at the table... next to Franc, of all fucking people. Thankfully, the big lug didn't say a word about it.

I reached across him for the coffee pot but, to my embarrassment, found that it was a couple inches too far from me to get.

"Here," Franc offered in a more delicate tone, as he poured me a cup. What the hell was this, sympathy? "Thank you by the way... For what you did out there."

No, it was gratitude.

"Yeah," I muttered sarcastically. "I'm a real hero."

His brown eyes met mine then, that caveman brow of his knit together as if admonishing me for belittling my own actions. He was more serious than I'd ever seen him. "You are a hero, Princess. And I'm grateful for it. I know I can be an ass, but hell, even I can acknowledge when someone sticks their neck out for me. I owe you… more than I can probably repay."

He was actually being genuine, extremely so. This attitude change towards me was somewhat surprising. I had to admit, I felt a little bad now for being so grouchy to him just then.

"Don't worry about it." I waved him off.

"You're one tough cookie, you know that?" he laughed, absentmindedly tearing off little pieces of his bread roll. I could tell he was both impressed and amused- perhaps even a bit perplexed. "Just so you know, if you ever need anything I can help Princ… err… Uma."

"Thanks. And it's fine if you call me Princess." I said, not even bothering to take a break from my porridge.

"W-what?" He was shocked by my answer. Yes, I was full of surprises.

"Yeah, screw it. Call me Princess, if you want," I told him. "Better than Tough Cookie, anyways."

Finishing my porridge and downing the last dregs of my coffee, I got up from the table. "We have gear maintenance today, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"Thank god, anything else would probably kill me." I told him before leaving.

Princess wasn't a terrible nickname. There were far worse I guess. And for some stupid reason, sentiment maybe, I didn't really want him to give it up. After all, it wasn't the first time someone's called me Princess.

AN: REVIEW FAVOR FOLLOW! Sorry it's been a while everyone! I really wanted to make sure this chapter was as perfect as I could manage. I had to make some important decisions in this chapter regarding Uma and Franc's friendship and the flashback/dream sequence and I wanted to to make certain they were the right ones before I continued. Hope you all enjoyed it! I'm so happy everyone seems to like what I have written so far. Till next time!