First off, notice the name change. I was bored so I decided to change it for my own sad amusement. Second, I'm sorry for taking forever, so here's a longer chapter. Thirdly, my muse is still being a butthead and not coming back so please don't be mean.

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The first thing she became aware of was soft animal-hide covering her already hot body. She sat up with a gasp, clutching the skin to her bare torso. From what she could see, she was lying in a tent. It was dark outside.

Something shuffled near by. Out of some instict, she jumped to a crouch and found that she was close to the ground. She clenched her fists, being unable to find something hard within reach, and waited.

"You are awake," said a soft, feminine voice. "That is good. I will find you something to eat. You must be famished."

She relaxed, loosening each muscle slowly as if stiff. Her stomach growled in response to the woman's words.

"I apologize for not being able to give you light, but a fire would likely burn my tent down." The woman found her hands and guided them to a warm, wooden bowl. "I fixed this at the evening meal, so it is still quite fresh."

She didn't touch the food. Instead, she said, "Where am I? What happened?"

"That," was the reply, "is something we hoped you could tell us. As for where you are, you are among the nomadic tribe, the Mengham."

She sampled what was in the bowl. Soup, it tasted like. "So, how did I get here?"

"None of us here are aware of specific details. According to Shamda, you appeared in a brilliant flash of light wearing no clothes and with no memory whatsoever. My father, the tribe elder and leader, has asked my husband and me to take you in and answer any questions you may have."

"Then I'm not from here," she said. "I don't remember meeting Shamda or anyone else. How long have I been here?"

"Shamda, my husband, and the two they were with brought you back at sun high. You have been asleep since you came in here. I would guess that it is close to moon high."

She crossed her legs and, deciding the food was good, began to hungrily gulp it down.

It was soon gone and, despite now feeling full, there was a sense of disorientation and loss. Unlike her outward appearance, she was on the verge of panic. She had no idea who she was or anything about herself. The woman seemed to know more about her than she did. Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, she said, "What have you decided about me? What have you decided to call me? And...what's your name?"

The woman was silent a moment before answering. "I do not understand your first question, but to answer your second: we are calling you Arrana, which is the feminine way to say 'naked one' in our old language. I am called Kreya."

"Arrana." The name sounded alright, though she wasn't entirely thrilled with the meaning. "Um...what does your father think he's going to do with me? Throw me out as soon as he thinks I'm ready or will I be able to stay here?"

"That," Kreya said, "is your choice. My father is not a barbarian; he is fair. My people—your people if you wish—will not mind if you choose to remain here. We would understand if you felt the need to move on and try to find yourself."

"Let me think about it."

"Of course."

They lapsed into a short silence, only broken by Arrana asking, "Is there anything I can borrow for clothes?"

Kreya laughed quietly. "I cannot see. You will have to wait until it is morning."

Still feeling lost, Arrana agreed, yawned, and turned over, instantly falling back to sleep.

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Sunlight streamed elegantly through an opening in the top of the tent and flashed in Arrana's eyes. She moaned in annoyance and tried to turn over only to find she couldn't escape. Sighing in resignation, she sat up, remembering in time to keep herself covered.

A pretty, smiling woman was sitting near by. "It is still early, but Dermat, my husband, has left with a small party to hunt. I have some leftover bread if you are hungry."

Arrana recognized Kreya's voice. "Please," she said.

Holding her stomach, Kreya passed Arrana a small wooden plate of bread over. It was then Arrana noticed Kreya's rounded belly. Not knowing what to say, she murmured her thanks and savored one slice, not wanting to look like a pig in front of her host.

"Could your husband or someone else show me around?" she asked when she finished.

Kreya laughed. "I am with child, not an invalid! A walk will do me and the baby some good." Arrana blushed. "Are you ready now?"

"Yeah. Sure." Arrana helped Kreya stand and they exited the tent. "Wow," she whispered. "I've never--I don't remember anything like this!" The city had wide dirt paths and medium height buildings that loomed over the two women. People in the tribe bustled about. A few stopped to wave at Kreya before scurrying on. Nothing connected them to the outside world except a staircase and the open sky.

Arrana closed her eyes and relished the sun's warmth on her skin. She inhaled deeply, savoring the comforting scents. Kreya clucked in amusement and touched Arrana's arm.

Kreya commented, "I see you are not as panicked about...your situation as you could be." They walked down a road, Kreya directing the route.

"It's..." Arrana didn't know how to tell her new friend how she really felt. She wondered if she had this much trouble with talking about her feeling when she still had her memories. "I've been in better situations, I mean, I had to've been. I'm guess I'm just...afraid that I won't like the person that I was. Yeah, maybe a name would be nice, but I want to stay here. I want to stay with something familiar and, right now, it's this place and these people. If I was a horrible person, I don't want to know. I'd rather stay Arrana if it meant I wouldn't be that person."

"You are seeing the bad. You may have been one of the sweetest people in your village. I see you and I don't think of you as something evil, such as the Goa'uld." Kreya shuddered.

The word "Goa'uld" stirred something in Arrana's gut but as soon as she tried to grasp the feeling, it trickled away. "What is a Goa'uld?" She said the unfamiliar word slowly, yet it slide from her tongue with surprising ease. She wondered if she ever had dealings with them.

"They are a race that come from the heavens and pose as gods. My ancestors, though, knew that our real gods would never behave with such cruelty. Their voices echo with an alien harshness and when they become angered, their eyes flash an unnatural golden color. They wield a potent device on their hand that has they ability to throw an enemy back or, if close enough, paralyze a poor victim with a stone centered on their palm with the device. From stories told, the only power they seemed to conduct was through their warriors, called Jaffa." All of this information was new to Arrana, but it twinged something in her stomach that she couldn't pinpoint.

"And these Goa'uld," said Arrana, "why aren't they still here?"

Kreya's brow furrowed. "The exact truth isn't known, but all of the stories agree that our ancestors defeated the one inhabiting this planet. None have come back since. Here's where we have set up the market. Soon, a few more tribes will arrive to begin trading." She motioned to several open-sided tents lined up and spaced several feet apart. The tents were all animal hide and excellently sewn together. Tribesmen carried multiple items into them while the women unpacked them and set the contents up.

"Is there any chance we can, or at least I can, go explore the outside? Are there any woods?" The energy she felt from the night before pulsed through her veins once more, causing her to become restless. The need to wander was aroused.

"Of course, but do you still want to look around? There are woods outside. If you wanted, I would be willing to walk a ways with you, but my ankles are beginning to hurt."

"So the exit is..."

"I am correct in assuming you saw the stairs outside my tent?" Arrana nodded. "Follow them and explore to your heart's content. I wish I could go." She grunted and placed a hand over her stomach. "But the baby's gotten suddenly restless. Is it alright if you help me back?" Her voice had gotten progressively quieter.

Arrana gently grabbed her arm and helped her shuffle back to her tent. Kreya collapsed happily onto the bed. "From what you have said, do you choose to remain with us?"

Arrana paused before heading back out. "Yeah. This is, after all, the only home I can remember. I have nowhere else I need to go."

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Several days passed by. During that time, Arrana contented herself by searching through the woods and following numerous trails until she knew the layout like the palm of her hand.

One afternoon, Arrana and Kreya were sitting and talking when Kreya gasped in pain. She quickly told Arrana that the baby must be coming and that Arrana had to go find a nursemaid.

Arrana obediently hurried and was forced to wait outside while the nurse helped Kreya. Dermat came a soon as he heard and was granted access. Her cries echoed throughout that section of the city. Finally, after many hours of waiting, Arrana heard the shrieking of a baby. She was allowed to enter a few minutes later. Kreya was lying on the bed, looking very tired and sweaty. She was leaning against Dermat who was massaging Kreya's shoulders and staring proudly at the baby she held in her arms.

"It is a boy," Kreya anounced.

"Congratulations," Arrana murmured.

"I am calling him Tredan, after Dermat's father." The baby, whose cries had long-since subsided, sighed in his sleep. "The maid wants me to move into her tent so she can supervise us. Dermat will be coming with me. You may stay here if you wish."

Arrana blinked in surprise. "Th-thank you," she said.

After a few more days became a week, Arrana, who thought her restlessness was finally gone, felt herself needing to wander. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, its light reflecting off the clouds and streaking the sky with marvelous hues of red, pink, purple, and yellow.

She followed different trails for a few hours before coming across a stream. The grass on its back was trampled down from where animals had stopped down and gotten a drink. She knelt in the same spot and dipped her hands in the gently running water. It was cool against her hands and felt crisp in her mouth. She splashed her face and relished its chill on her sweaty face and neck.

She continued on. The trail curved and wove throughout the forest. At some points, she was forced to duck under low-hanging branches thanks to the bright animal that decided it must have wanted to ram its head on them.

Finally, it began to end and, judging by the pattern of trees, opened up into a clearing. She strode forward but slowed down when she heard voices.

"We need to sweep the area, sir," a female voice was saying.

Arrana hesitated uncertainly. These people had to be from one of the tribes that was supposed to trade. Still, the way the woman had spoken made her hesitant to think that they were truly from another tribe. Another thought fluttered through her mind: What if they were Goa'uld? She quickly dismissed the notion. Kreya told her that the Goa'uld had inhuman voices. The woman sounded quite normal except the way she spoke. She walked slowly forward.

"Maintain a secure perimeter, fifty meters radius from the gate," replied a man. Arrana felt her doubts begin to surface again. She forced herself to move forward.

"Yes, sir," the woman replied.

The people came into veiw, and she came into sight of a second man. "Sir..." he said. She observed, as the other two whirled to face her, that they were all dressed in a green uniforn with a black vest. From what she could see, the vests contained various instruments she didn't know the name of. They each raised a large metallic weapon at her.

"Wait," she said. "I don't mean you any harm."

The man who first spoke lowered his gun with wide eyes. Arrana thought he looked like he was seeing something unreal that he had dismissed as something false. The words, "He looked like he'd seen a ghost," popped into her mind, though she had no idea why. His face had paled, as hid those of his companions. They, too, lowered their weapons and gazed at her in unconcealed amazement.

"What?" she asked in confusion. She briefly wondered, subconsiously, if these people had known her, but the thought never truly formed.

"You don't recognize us, Major?" asked the first male speaker.

"Major?" she echoed, the word meaning nothing to her.

"Can you please come with me?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?" she demanded.

"We're just going to a near by village. You may or may not have been there. It's a couple miles west of our position."

"I came from there."

"Lieutenant." He nodded to the woman. She put her hand to her forehead and hurried off, probably to comply with her earlier orders. The second man copied her actions. "I don't mean you any harm either," he said to Arrana. "I just want you to come back to the village with me so I can confirm who you are."

"You know me?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm pretty sure. After all my people have been through, you could just be an extremely close look-a-like."

Arrana, in a split second decision, decided that, since they were just going to the village, she could go with him.

They walked in silence, for which she was very grateful. The village soon came into veiw, since they were going by the main road, and they descended the stairs. Arrana saw Shamda speaking with another man, wearing the same uniform as her "escort" except his hair was steel-grey. His voice was slightly grating but soothing to her all the same. A tall, bald, black man with a strange symbol on his forehead stood near by, his hands behind his back. Two others, both with brownish/blondish hair and blue eyes were walking around and speaking to tribesmen and women.

"Colonel," said her "escort", interrupting an apparent argument between Shamda and the grey-haired man. "My team found something you might wanna see." All four strangers turned and gaped at her in open awe and amazement. Arrana was becoming uncomfortable with all of these strangers staring at her in recognition--to say the least--as well as holding the "I'm seeing a ghost" expression on their faces.

The four people, oblivious to the curious stares they were receiving from the villagers, approached her.

"Carter?" said the grey-haired man, his voice breaking with heavy emotion.

"Arrana," Shamda corrected smugly.

"Huh? Arrana?"

"It is what we call her," Khorib, one of the men who initially found her, added.

"It means 'naked one'," Shamda said.

Thanks, Shamda, she thought sarcastically. Just what I want people to know.

"It is how we found her in the forest two moons ago," Khorib explained.

"She doesn't seem to remember who she is," her escort said.

It was beginning to irk her how they kept speaking as if she wasn't really there.

One of the blue-eyed men stepped forward. He had two glass circles in front of his eyes. "Hey, Sam." Arrana bit back a comment about her supposedly being named "Carter" instead, but decided that this man was being sincere and didn't deserve a biting comment. "Don't you remember me? I'm Daniel." He reached out to touch her shoulder but she shied away from his hand. She didn't miss the genuinely hurt expression on his face.

"Do you not recognize us, Major Carter?" the black man asked, putting his hands down to his sides.

Sudden emotion overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry," she said and rushed off to her tent.

Ignoring the grey-haired man's "Not even me?", she threw herself down on the bed. It felt like two halves of her were at a violent war with each other.

One said that she should stay here. The tribes people were her people now. The newcomers were just strangers. She didn't know them despite their claims of knowing her. They couldn't know her. She was her own person now. They may have known the old her, but she was different now. Nothng they could say of do would be able to change that. That and they could very well be lying about really knowing her. Except she really couldn't figure out what they would gain from lying to her.

On the other hand, it was an opportunity to find out who she really was. These people seemed like they had been her close friends. Who better to help her remember? If that were even possible; she had yet to regain any memories.

The grey-haired man entered and interrupted her musings. She was both amused and annoyed that he was so determined to talk to her.

"Can you please go away?" she asked in irritation. Her bad mood increased when he ignored her and sat down across from her.

"Okay, look, I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill and by some freaky coincidence, you are Major Samantha Carter."

"How can you prove that?" she asked. He looked at her blankly. In a wide, sweeping gesture, she waved her arm around. He ducked unnecissarily. "I don't know. I do know this tent, these people, this village. They're real to me. What you're trying to tell me isn't. I've tried to make it real. I've tried to remember, but as soon as I reach for it, it fades and there's nothing for me to grasp. Nothing for me to hang on to."

"You were the second-in-command of my team, SG-1. You're our friend. Then, about a year ago, you died."

Arrana—Sam?—snorted. "I'm dead?" she said in amusement bordering on mockingly.

"Well, not died per se. Just ascended to a higher plane of existence instead of dying. Last any of us saw you, you were trying to kick Anubis's—"

"Anubis?" she asked, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

"Yeah. A kind of over-the-top, cliché bad guy. Ugly black cloak, really oily skin, kind of spooky. Anyway, you've, since then, obviously retaken human form...somehow. I—" he paused and an understanding look appeared on his face. "I, uh, I can imagine how this might sound a little strange."

"A little? Okay then, how—why—am I here?"

He grimaced. "How or why are any of us here? I don't know, but you gotta believe me. I know you're Major Sam Carter. Think about it like this: out of all the planets in the galaxy, why this one if not for us to find you?" He pointed at her.

She lit a candle in a show of boredom. Skeptically, she said, "So, you're telling me that a higher power put me here?"

"Honestly, I don't know. That's not my department." He got up and left, seeming put out.

She wondered how long it would be until the next person came in.

Not even a minute later and and man with glasses—what did he say his name was?—poked his head through the flap. "Hey, do you mind if I come in?" She blew out the candle and shrugged, gesturing to the recently vacated seat. "So..." he said awkwardly, accepting her invitation to sit.

Deciding to break the ice and make up for her walking away from his so rudely, she said, "Who did you say you were again?"

She noted with some amusement the relief that flickered behind his eyes. "Daniel Jackson. Daniel to my friends." He looked at her intently as he said this.

Now that aquaintances were over with, she decided to tell him to leave before she only hurt him further. "As I was telling Jarad—"

"Jack," he corrected.

"Uh, yeah. Like I told Jack—"

"Why are you so afraid to find out who you are?" he interrupted.

"I do...and I don't."

"I find it hard to understand the 'don't' part..."

"I've given this a lot of thought. Believe me. But I keep asking myself, 'What if I don't like who I was?' I'm just afraid that the person I was wasn't...that I was some sort of monster, I guess."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Arrana could see the wheels in his head turning. "A year ago we thought we had lost you. It was one of the worst experiences we—I—have ever been through. You would give your life for someone you din't even know. That's how we lost you in the first place."

"That's not too bad," she admitted.

"On our team, your were the soldier/scientist. Both sides were constantly conflicting with each other. I know that you wanted to argue whenever you were ordered to do something you knew was wrong but rules stopped you from doing it."

"But I can be correct in assuming that people were hurt because I didn't speak up?" she asked.

"No," he said fiercely. "Our leaders just wouldn't listen and they had the final say. You really made an impression on them when you sacrificed yourself. They probably learned from it. There was a really big lesson to learn from it in the long run. I can't just sit here and tell you what good you've done. Come back and we can show you."

She shook her head and rested it in her hands. Sighing, she looked up again, biting her lip. "Can I think about it?"

Daniel smiled sadly and nodded. "Sure. I'll see you later."

He left. The tent suddenly seemed to take on a melancholy atmosphere. Partly, she knew, because of her choice. Daniel's words swayed her decision. There was only one thing she could really do.

With another sigh, she shuffled out of the tent in time to hear the black man say, "What of Major Carter?"

"She's going home," Sam said.

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So was is good despite my evil muse?

The next chapters shouldn't be so long in coming, but if my muse decides to keep up her behavior, don't expect the chapters to be as good as they could be. I am trying!

R&R