Lucy still wasn't quite used to being a lower-class man.

Firstly, she was no longer treated with curtsies and delicacy. She was expected to pull her own weight in pulling the ropes while being soaked to the bone in storms, carrying crates, counting supplies. She'd taken a simple ship in the hopes that less people would suspect her presence upon it. The food and bedding, however, was atrocious, and Lucy longed to arrive in America.

She did try to look on the bright side - no longer did men stare hungerly at her body or try to talk her up in a pressured fashion. And no longer did she have to help on deck as much. Since the other men would laugh at her and Levy for how the 'tiny men' couldn't hardly roll a barrel, they'd stationed them down to help with the food: much more simple.

And at night, in their corner of the sleeping cabin…

"Look, they have these portable homes that they call tipis." Levy held up a picture sketched into the worn, leather book. Lucy turned over more in her rocking cot and squinted through the dark at the picture in the lamplight. The structure was shaped like a cloth cone on wooden, tapered poles.

"That's interesting," Lucy admitted. "Why are they portable?"

"So that they can follow the bison herds for resources," her friend muttered, turning the page of the book Levy's mother had written all she knew about the tribe in "You should memorize more of these phrases…"

"I could, but I heard there are all sorts of languages among the Indians," Lucy sighed, shifting to face the cot of the snoring man above her. "This is only one tribe, and you said they're the most elusive, right? I don't understand why we'd even run into them."

"We are heading to San Francisco," Levy reminded her, eyeing the page of the language excitedly. "We'll be passing the plain lands, where they reside."

"From what I hear," Lucy said, though she knew it may push her friend's patience, "they'd kill us on sight. We're white, and they'll scalp us."

"They're a peaceful tribe!" Levy protested. "Not all natives do that!"

"I suppose," sighed Lucy, playing with the end of her shirt. "I don't know… the idea of savages still living there just frightens me, Lev."

Levy was quiet for a moment, but it was enough time for Lucy to realize she should not have said that. "My mother wasn't savage."

Sometimes she forgot that Levy was half Indian. Her skin was more white than red, but her shockingly blue hair resembled that of the Faetaye tribe where her mother had grown up. Apparently, the tribe was known for their strange hair colors.

"Oh Levy," she groaned apologetically, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that… Your mother was a lovely woman." She grimaced. "I really didn't mean… I just… They still wear little clothing and do strange rituals and use spears and paint on their faces. I don't understand…"

"Everyone is afraid of what they don't understand." Levy scanned the page. "Now, what's the word for 'Hello - I bear no weapons'?"

She crinkled up her nose. "Em… Has… Hashate?"

"Correct. The word for food?"

Lucy answered quietly, soon lulled to sleep by the slow back and forth of the ship and the whispers of Levy's voice speaking fluently in a rich, musical language…


"Excuse me, sir, but how much closer is arrival?" Lucy asked as she approached the first mate. He was a kind and jovial fellow, and she felt safer in discussion with him.

"The storm yesta'day threw us a bit off the coarse," he admitted in a heavy Irish accent. "But didn' ya 'ear the cap'in las' week, lad? 'e said we'd been thar in 'bout a week, and it's been a week - should be another dey or so… or hours. I am not quite as 'sured about navigations as the cap'in."

Lucy felt some kind of fluttering excitement bubble up in her chest. "That is good news, sir."

"Aye. Where'll be you and yer broder headin' off to in the States?"

"We hoped to go to San Francisco, in order to see all of the lands and try out a vibrant city," Lucy explained amicably.

The man let out a short laugh. "Oh, that there is vibrant, be sure, lad, but ye won't find more colorful than New York, where we headin'."

"Perhaps we shall have a good look around," she agreed, not wanting to admit that she simply wanted to get as far from England as possible.

"Such tiny men like you two," continued the first mate, "be dangerous out on the open west. Ya'd need a group ta go with, bigger men ta protect you when ya get off of the train, or make sure ya get The Burlington Route from Chicago ta San Francisco."

"O-oh," was her only response. She hadn't thought of that. Lucy had taken part of her dowry along to sell for passage and lodging before they found work, but they'd have to conserve it more than she had originally calculated. Well, it wasn't as if she'd expected this to be a vacation. "Of course. We'll… we'll take that train route."

"Good," he replied in satisfaction. "None of us sailors air dunders, ya know. Yer talk is very educated we think. I'de sey neither o' you boys 'ave any 'perience in a fight or the like."

"I-I see," Lucy said, a slight flush crawling up her neck. "I suppose…"

"Lawrence!" Levy's familiar voice saved her, bumbling up from behind, small boots clomping along the deck. "Jim says we're nearly there!"

Lucy recalled Jim, the navigator man, and smiled. "Fantastic!"

"Best ready your things, lad," the first mate told her with an easy smile. "Adventure awaits on the 'orizon."


The port of New York was startling, magnificent in its own way. The ships stood as powerful, towering sentries, though not in a frightening manner. Even from here, Lucy could lean over the rail to see people, hundreds upon hundreds bustling about the docks.

The two girls had their bags up on their shoulders and in their hands, stuffed to the brim with two more changes of men's clothes, books, food, hygiene supplies, and a dress each hidden at the bottom. Lucy's however, held some valuable items to sell upon arrival, along with her collection of journals with ink and quill and her typewriter in its trusty case.

Their boots echoed on the gangplank, following the rush of sailors that lept into the awaiting arms of their lady loves scattered across the docks. Lucy's inner author softened, watching a father envelope his wife in the largest embrace, burying his face into her neck as they rocked back and forth. His two toddlers at their mother's skirts tugged on his trousers until he crouched down to them, accepting them both into a huge, laughing hug.

As soon as they were on land, an overwhelming sea seemed to wash back over her; a sea of nausea, excitement, and a complete loss of where to go.

Levy's hand touched her arm, and Lucy breathed out. She took a step forward.

She knew she wouldn't have been able to do this alone.


Her heart thrummed with the chug of the train. They had indeed looked around a bit in New York, but the shouting, carriages, and pickpockets running far and wide caused Lucy and Levy to talk swiftly with a tradesmen to get money for one of Lucy's valuables so that they could buy tickets. New York food in the restaurant they stopped at was delightful, flavorful and all a novel experience, but Levy was just as eager to continue the adventure as she. The train system was all very confusing, though after examining a map of the massive country, the girls had soon figured out which line to take.

After passing the lady snoring and young, handsome man reading a newspaper, they'd found a bench for themselves, storing away their bags and watching the people out the window hurrying here and there. New York just seemed so much more busy-everyone had a place to go, a person to see, and nowhere to look but their feet to make sure they didn't trip over anything. No one dared to look at one another, offer a smile, and Lucy wondered why.

By the time the green countryside began rushing past, Levy was asleep on Lucy's shoulder. Lucy smiled wryly at her friend and drew a book from one of the bags. She would usually take this time to write in her journal or to Loke, but the train was far too bumpy to do so.

Of course, she'd ridden a train before. Though her father cared for class, he cared more for fast business, and a train was the way to do it. As well as showing off his daughter to suitors at a most terrifying speed.

Trains were not the cleanest, and were filled with all sorts of strangers that made her uneasy without her usual servant companions. But it seemed that in America, everyone was far too busy to bother one another, for everyone kept well to themselves. Their clothes were all far more simple, accent when they exchanged conversation with companions extraordinarily blunt. Less class, less care for what people thought of them, and more sense.

Lucy found herself liking them without even speaking to them.

The girls took turns sleeping rather uncomfortably on each other, watching over their belongings. All they had in the world rested in those few sacks, and they'd be homeless and hopeless without them, though Lucy didn't like the materialism of it all. But alas, money mattered.

The Indians didn't much have a system of money, according to Levy. Perhaps that would be something refreshing about them… if they happened across a tribe that didn't want to scrape their skin from their skulls.

She didn't quite know how many hours passed-after so long on a ship and a country with different times of the sun, knowing the time was difficult, especially when her mind and body ached with exhaustion. The area about her hips ached even more intensely, sharp and throbbing pains continuously clenching about her lower area.

Lucy knew what it was, but she tried to ignore it and pray that it would go away. Now was a terrible time for her monthly cycle to come about. Her only extra fabric to put a stop to the blood were her few changes of clothes. If her body could make it to the city first and she could buy some more cloth...

When Lucy had just fallen asleep, she was gently shaken awake by Levy, who whispered ecstatically, "Wake up, wake up, Lu-Lawrence! We're in Chicago!"

Chicago was a whole new shock of sounds and colors. The accent was new, too-the New York drawls replaced with a short and straightforward language without pretense. The sun beat down hot over them, causing the fumes to rise with greater fervor, and she was again grateful for the lack of skirts to make her overheated and sticky.

There were indeed the usual smells of a city: sewage, sweat, rust and dust. But the sharp smell of spices and meat accompanied them from the booths of sausage along the crowded streets. Since their train didn't leave for another two hours, her and Levy tightly clutched their bags, shunted through the crowd to a stand, and payed for two of these chili sausages. Messy, but with the assistance of a handkerchief, a delightful experience of raw taste unburdened by the worries of how you'll fit into your corset.

"Let's make it back to the train early," Lucy suggested, biting her lip. She knew she should be buying some fabric to catch the blood if she was right about her cycle coming around, but it almost seemed like that would jinx it to happen even more. "I am unsure of times here, and the sooner we get on The Burlington Route, the better. I-I mean… once we get more money, we can choose more places to visit, but I would like the security of a place to stay."

"Right you are," Levy agreed, brushing the last of the bread from her hands. "I'm so grateful this country has such excessive trains that span the whole place so that we don't have to find a caravan that would take months."

"Wouldn't that be miserable." Lucy winced. "Out in the hot west… sounds like heat stroke and robbery waiting to happen."

"Or we could meet the Indians," Levy said cheerfully, hopping as they made their way back to the station. Then she glanced to her friend quickly. "B-but we couldn't choose which ones, so best not to."

Lucy said nothing; she didn't know what she could say without sounding rude.

The train ride out west was not quite as scenic as the one from New York; the golden grasslands were quite lovely for the first hour, but after that got old very quickly. The green and gold blended together as Lucy set her elbow up against the windowsill and shrugged her cheek into her hand. Her blonde locks intertwined with her finger; her hair had grown like a weed, and she was worried that she'd soon be revealed for what she was. Another reason to get to their destination quickly.

A while into the ride, however, Lucy tried to hide her gasp and she winced. Oh, she knew she should have gotten that cloth. She could only ward off mother nature for so long, and here it came crashing down on her.

Lucy made sure to keep her legs tightly pressed together in hopes that her underclothes could keep the blood from leaking through. Oh, this was just the worst possible time…

And when the train began to screech to a mysterious halt, Lucy realized just how much it could get worse.

There was a muffled shouting when the train stopped, clomps of heavy boots. The other members of their train care murmured to each other nervously, the women huddling close together or two the man they were with. Lucy saw the man behind whisper to his wife, "Keep your head down. If it's bandits, don't look them in the eye or say anything." And the man drew a pistol.

Lucy clapped a hand over her mouth, gripping Levy roughly by the shoulder and prodding her awake. "Levy! Levy, I think we are in danger. Wake up!"

Her friend blinked at her groggily, rubbing her eyes and frowning. "Hmm? Why is the train stopped?"

Her question was immediately answered by the car door slamming open on its slide and three tall men bursting in with guns in their hands and bandanas over their faces. The two girls backed into a corner together, Lucy temporarily forgetting the blood surely seeping through her trousers as she pushed the sack of valuables further underneath the seat with her foot.

"This train is ours!" the man in front shouted, drawling, intense voice muffled through the fabric of his bandana. "Pass o're yer money and ye won't get a bullet in yer head!"

A shaky pistol rose over the seat behind them, and with a bang! that made the occupants of the car scream, the gun was shot straight out of the good man's hand.

The two bandits behind the leader rushed at the man, punching him across the face as his wife cried out. He was knocked out cold, and they began digging through his pockets.

Lucy was frozen, doing as the husband behind them had instructed his wife and not making eye contact with the thieves. In one of her books, the hero would rush at the bad men to stop them. But Lucy was not strong, nor skilled. Her knife was in her bag, too obvious to reach for; there was no point in getting anyone hurt for cheap robbers.

The leader, slowly walking along seats with his gun, soon stopped by them, lazily waving his pistol in her direction. "C'mon then. Cough up, kid."

With a trembling hand, Lucy drew out some coins from her pocket, quickly dropping them into his outstretched hand and pulling hers back as if burned. "That's all we have."

The bandit shrugged and shoved it into his pocket, giving their dirty clothes a once over as if he believed them by their ragged appearance. Lucy gave a small sigh of relief, as he stepped to the next seat-

"Ah, I knowed it! How Funny! Ahaha!"

Lucy clutched Levy to her as if to shield her friend with her arms as she snapped out to the bandit that had backtracked to look at them, "What? What is it?"

"I knowed you was too purtty to be a man. Lookie here, boys! Two gals dressed as men!"

Her heart skipped into her throat, and her grip tightened in horror. "Wh-what a ridiculous accusation!"

"Don' bother denyin' it, missy. I ain't stupid. The blood. You're a woman."

The thief's two friends drew back beside him, eyebrows furrowing under their rimmed, hide hats. "Wha makes ya think he's a she, boss?"

"The blood on 'er seat, and look at that face. And they're little things-want me to prove it?"

"Blood? What does that 'ave ta do with anythin'? Is he… she, cut or somemut?"

Lucy grimaced in humiliation as the 'boss' groaned, "You morons. It's a thing gals have! they bleed from down there e'ry month, me ma always said. It's this nasty, dirty thing they have to do. Some kind of curse I think. But that won't matter for long." The eyes that skimmed over her were disgusting with their objectification, and Lucy was sick at the return of the look to her life. "Runaways, if they're dressed like that. No one's gonna miss 'em. Been a while since we had some women for pleasin', eh, boys?"

Levy's small fingers dug into Lucy's arm, but she didn't react, still in a haze of rising terror when the other two murmured in agreement.

"'Course, we couldn't take 'er right away," sighed the boss, sizing up Levy as well. "Ma said girls that are together have the blood at the same time, so we'd 'ave to wait it out an' then they'd be all ours."

"Y-you won't lay a filthy finger on us," Lucy growled out, unsure of how she'd managed to speak.

She was pretty sure he was smiling wickedly under his bandana. "Won't I, missy?"

Lucy didn't quite know what happened next, but two of the men were suddenly restraining them and ripping them to their feet, the third picking up their belongings eagerly. The other Americans in the train either backed away or stood. Through her frenzied attempts to writhe, kick, and elbow her captor, Lucy saw Levy shouting and attempting to stomp on her assailant's foot, and three of the American men in the car rushed forward in attempt to save them.

One American managed to punch the one holding her in the face, but a gun was drawn, and the American cried out as he was shot in the leg. The other two were held off with the guns as the girls were dragged, screaming and thrashing, out of the train car.

Lucy was pulled roughly down the steps to a possy of horses and other masked men returning with sacks from other train cars. Deep bags were strapped to the saddles of each horse, where their loot was thrown. Ropes were tied hard enough to make blood prick out from her wrists at the stray strands of binding as Levy was thrown onto a horse beside her.

"What's with these, boss?" One of the men stabbed the end of his gun into Lucy's side in indication.

"Don't let the clothes fool ya-these are women." The boss swung up onto his horse in front of Lucy where she was roped to the saddle and laughed to them, "When we get back to hideout, I'll prove it to ya."

Tears of pain and fear blurred in her eyes, but she blinked quickly to hold them back as the robbers whooped and cheered. The group spurred on the horses, and each gallop jarred her cramped lower stomach so that she cried out. In front of her, the boss huffed in annoyance, ripping off his bandana and turning on the horse to tie the filthy thing around her mouth as a gag. Ahead, she saw one of the lackies glance back and follow his leader's actions with his own bandana as a gag for Levy.

Lucy's panic was fully setting in after the initial shock. Her mind sifted through dozens of impossible solutions: they could not try to free themselves from the horse, for they would surely get badly injured and have no doctor to get to. Not to mention, Lucy had no way of letting Levy know of any sort of escape plan. They'd surely try to fight them off or run away at the hideout, but to where? How would they know which way to go, or manage to slip from the grasp of so many enemies. If they stole the horses, shooed away the rest, and rode long enough, they could find help…

Lucy's eyes locked on the knife and gun on the bandit's belt before her. If she could only get to the knife to cut her bonds, hold the pistol to the man's head so that the others wouldn't kill her… Then again, Levy was also a hostage.

But she wouldn't let hopelessness consume her. She came to this country not only to be free, but strong. Through the dust that swirled up from the horses' hooves and the sun's harsh rays, Lucy met her friend's determined gaze on the other horse. It was faithful, trusting that they could get out of this.

These bastards are no match for what I've got inside.


"Natsu!"

From where he was lifting up Asuka to pet his horse, Natsu looked over to where Gray was galloping on his mare towards him. Asuka, an adorable daughter of Alzack and Bisca that was near the age of four, reached out in Natsu's arms, sliding her little hand down Natai's nose with the most delighted expression.

Gray's face, however, was not delighted, though Natsu never expected it to be around him. Out of spite, he matched his friend's usual scowl, answering, "What is it?"

"Alzack noticed a group of elk tracks not too far out of camp." Gray pointed off to the southeast, where a group of other men and boys waited on their horses beside a cluster of three tipis. "We are taking a hunting party out to find them. You coming?"

With a murmur of, "Run along back to your mother, little one," to Asuka when he put her down, Natsu stood back up straight and stroked Natai's mane. "When do we leave?"

"Immediately," Gray told him, his white and brown paint mare nosing Natsu's face in interest. "We do not want the herd to get too far away. Your sister foresaw you rushing off without your supplies and packed them for you when I told her of leaving, so here is your bag."

Natsu had been longing to get out and see the new land they had just set up their new camp in, and this was the perfect chance. After all, it was not as if he was allowed to go to battle without being an official man of the tribe…

With a grin, Natsu swung up onto his horse and snatched up his camp bag from where Gray was holding it. Making sure his weapons were secure, he dug in his heels and racing low on Natai's back to where the other boys were waiting for their next adventure.


Good afternoon, dear people,

Sorry this took so long-I'm not used to all the description that the historical fiction genre usually has, and I still don't think I added enough XD Anywho, jumping right in, and I hope you liked it! Thank you for the kind and encouraging reviews for the Prologue!

Historical Note:

I hope you caught on to how Lucy is on her period-to Europeans/Americans, it was often seen in this time as something dark and unholy that women should be ashamed of. You will see soon, however, what most Native Americans thought of it… I didn't mention the Statue of Liberty, because this story takes place in 1879, when it was not yet built in the New York harbor. The Burlington Route was a real rail line, however, stretching from Chicago to San Fransisco.

See you next chapter… when I have time! I got a little caught up in my collection of TKOF oneshots, Make A Wish, and Double Dad Dilemma, which is a story about roommates Igneel and Gildarts finding baby Natsu and deciding to keep him and raise him themselves… Check 'em out if you want! Also wrote a new Nalu oneshot called "Roll to Me". Pure fluff.

Mizpah,

~LoneStorm