A/N: I have now officially changed Keilantra to December and Jerrold to Elijah. Please tell me what you think about it. And how you like this chapter as well. Remember—to get on my good side: long reviews. Hehe.

Luv, Izzy

4. But I Must Pull Through

Tears began to course down December's cheeks again, but she brushed them off, persistent in her march home in the dark. She gripped her senses for dear life. She couldn't think straight. Her father's elvish pride pulsed through her blood, and she mustn't turn back nor apologize in any way. How could Dimitri be so insensitive? Of course, he didn't know she had elvish blood in her, but couldn't he see that he was hurting her when he spoke of elves that way?

They're ugly, vile creatures. She could still hear his harsh words. They seemed to ring in her ears. Like a dog, but with two feet and speech. Very well he didn't know she was an elf, for now she could see what was truly in his heart. They deserve death, all of them! The last words he had said to her set her off. She had yelled at him and told him to shut up. What would he think of her now? Would he be suspicious?

Something out of the night gripped her shoulder. She gasped softly as it twisted her around and held her firm. It was Dimitri. What did he want now? Further debate of why elves deserved death? To put some sense into her head? To try and prove what he was talking about? She didn't want any of it. "Leave me alone!" She jerked free of his grip, turning her back on him.

He twisted her to face him again. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry." Yeah, right. "I didn't know you felt such empathy for the elves."

"I do," December snapped, maybe a little too harsh. "When you mock them, you mock me." She quickly regretted speaking and defensively pulled the gray beret further over her ears.

"Why? What's special about them… to you?"

"I knew an elf once. He was my friend. He taught me their language. He later on died," she lied.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he looked her in the eye. Dimitri's were a moss green, glinting in the moonlight.

"Ghada-ghada," she forced a smile and turned to continue on her way home.

"Ember." She stopped and turned around. "I want you to stay."

Ember's mouth stammered, but no sound came. After a while, the words came. "You want me to stay?"

"Yes." Dimitri said it as simply and casually as he would've said "Looks like rain today" or "How about lunch?" Could he possibly mean what came out of his mouth? "Please."

"Alright." She gave in.

"Good. I want to show you some place," he eagerly grabbed her arm and began running that same path that Ember was going to take home. He dragged her along that gently moonlit path until he reached a stony wall. Over the top of the stones was a cluster of trees—too small to be a forest, too big to be a garden.

Dimitri released her arm and climbed the wall. Ember stared up at him from the ground. I am not climbing that thing… in a dress… at night. Dimitri perched himself at the top. "You coming?" She hesitated. "I promise it'll be worth it." He extended a hand to her. She gazed at it. It was large and square, with veins sticking out of his wrist. Ember took a breath and placed her hand in his, using it as a rope as she stepped on each stone. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," she looked down and began to feel dizzy, gripping Dimitri's shirt for balance. "Yes." He laughed. Then, to Keilantra's horror, he jumped. She quickly released his shirt and gripped the rocks instead.

"Climb down," he encouraged. "If you fall, I'll catch you."

"No."

"Just grip the rocks and climb down backwards."

"No."

"If you fall, I'll catch—"

"No."

"I promise I won't let you get hurt." She looked at him. He meant it. Of course, he meant it. If he didn't mean it, she would scream and yell bloody murder. Then again who would hear her? "Please?" He looked up at her and put on an absurd puppy face, making her laugh.

"Alright, don't let me get hurt," she turned herself around and began to climb down slowly. "Don't look up my dress, either." He turned his face to the ground, grinning ear-to-ear.

"I won't." He watched her step her way down.

As soon as she felt the solid ground, she spun around to face him, a huge grin on her face. She spread her arms out. "I did it!"

He clapped, laughing. "Well done. Now let's go." He took her arm and began to run through the trees.

"What? Aren't we there yet?"

"Not yet."

She groaned.

"Now we are."

"Now we are what?"

"We're here."

Keilantra looked around—ordinary trees. Nothing extraordinary. "This is it."

"Yeah," he began to climb up the steps of a large oak tree.

"No."

He laughed, climbing the rest of the way up the tree. "Come one. I'll catch you if you fall."

"You mean if I fall upwards?"

"Just climb."

"Alright…" She carefully placed her hands and feet on the rotting wooden planks and climbed up onto the platform where Dimitri stood. "What is this place?" She looked around. It was a small home up in a tree!

"Do you like it?" He began to light torches and lanterns that were hanging in and outside the home.

"It's beautiful." A balcony stretched around the small house in the centre, with tables and chairs arranged on it. Inside were more tables and chairs, and a comfortable couch. There was also a food cupboard and a small vanity desk and a dresser.

"I made it," he announced proudly.

"Really? How long did it take you?" Keilantra looked around the place, fascinated. It was lit up now, with all the torches and candles.

"A long time. I can't remember. Want to take a seat?" he gestured toward the couch. Keilantra sat on it and he began rummaging through the food cupboard. "Most everything's gone bad," he told her.

"That's alright." He went and sat down beside her, enough room for another person to sit between them.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

"What about myself?"

"Who is December?"

"A skinny, ugly slave, with no home and no family."

"Please elaborate," he teasingly leaned his chin on his fists and looked at her excitedly.

"Well," she began. "My Mother and Father died and I was sold into slavery." Then she added sarcastically, "Therefore, I am a skinny, ugly slave, with no home and no family."

"Not ugly."

She looked at him, trying to read him. What was he implying? "What?"

"Never ugly. My sister wasn't ugly either."

What did his sister have to do with anything? He had never even said he had a sister. Questions nagged at Ember's throat, but she swallowed them politely.

"Tell me more."

"There's not much to tell."

"Tell me what you do everyday, starting from when you wake up to when you go to sleep!" He joked, grinning.

Ember laughed. "Well, I wake up, I do chores, I eat, I do more chores, I eat again, I do more chores, I eat again, I do some more chores, then I retreat to my quarters and go to sleep."

"And what do you do when you're asleep?"

She laughed again. "I dream, I guess."

"What do you dream about?"

"Not being a slave."

"Oh, yes, of course. And what would you be if you weren't a slave?"

"I would be a beautiful princess," she smiled. "Everyone would do whatever I say." She laughed. It seemed absurd now, but when she was young it wasn't a joke at all—it was real. She remembered the dream that had come to her each night… and her song. "I would sing," she said.

"You sing in your dreams?" He looked at her strangely.

"I know it's crazy," she said, almost embarrassed. "But it's almost like my dreams compose their own songs."

"Sing it."

"But I don't—"

"Sing it," he stared at her, anticipating, waiting. That was somewhat encouraging.

"To persist in toil and strife,

I've wasted all my life,

The truth is sharper than a knife,

But I must pull through."

She stopped, waiting for Dimitri's reaction.

"You're a beautiful singer," he said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes! I mean, you're singing is beautiful," he paused. "Did you sing like that in your dream?"

"Yes."

"Was that the whole song?"

"No, there's more but—"

"It's getting late," he suddenly observed.

"Yes!" Ember jumped up, realizing how late she had stayed. "I have to leave now!"

"Please, don't go. Stay a while longer," he took her arm to pull her down, but she shook him off.

"I've stayed too long," she left and began to climb down the tree.

"Let me walk you home, then."

"No, it's alright," she touched the ground and looked up at him. "Thank you." She turned and ran the way they had come.

"But… Wait!" he jumped down and called after her. "When can I see you again?"

"Soon… maybe," Ember climbed up the stone wall.

Dimitri ran to the wall and looked up at her. "But where do you live?"

"Don't come to my home. I'll find you," she climbed down the other side.

"Why? When?" He climbed up the wall to look over, but she had ran off, stumbling through the snow.

"Soon!" she stopped and turned around. "I promise!" She began to run again.

"Why?" Dimitri jumped over the wall.

"Good night, Dimitri!"

Dimitri sighed. "Good night, December." He turned the opposite way and followed the snowy path to the market place.

December. A beautiful name, he thought. Julia—Lia. Nicole—Nicki. Olivia—Oli. He always thought of pet names for the girls he brought home. Maybe it made him feel closer to them. December—he thought of nothing. Ember was her given pet name, possibly by her master or fellow servants. It wasn't pretty enough. Ember—perhaps Em? Em was boring. Em was a pet name derived from the name Emma, not Ember.

The name came to him suddenly. Emma—beautiful, simple, sweet. It suited her. When he went to find her the following day, he would call her Emma.

Something about her reminded him of… Angel—her looks, her voice, her personality? He wanted to see her again the following day, but would she forget her promise?

Since Angel had died he had invited other girls to his tent, maybe to fill that void he had from losing her.

How many had he made to see him during the year she had been gone? One hundred? No—more. There had been Julia, the blacksmith's daughter. She looked similar to Angel, but was absolutely nothing like her.

Nicole was also a slave, but didn't look anything like her. Her laugh was happy, she had a cute sense of humor, but when Dimitri looked at her, it wasn't Angel that he was looking at. It was someone else, someone completely opposite to her. Still beautiful, just not Angel.

No one had ever looked and acted as much like Angel as much as this girl—Emma. The same light cinnamon-coloured skin, the same long, black hair, the same large, brown eyes, too big for her sweet face. She possessed Angel's smile, Angel's expressions, Angel's slight height and stature. She even acted like Angel—making jokes, clumsy mistakes and her minor fear of heights that he always had found amusing.

He wanted to keep her. He was certain he had found his Angel. He hadn't felt the same since Angel had died.

He arrived back at the tent, where the fire was out, with faintly glowing embers. Rhonda lifted her head and whinnied softly. "Hey, Rhonda." He knelt next to her and patted her nose. "You won't leave me, will you?"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

December stopped running after she got tired. No one had ever treated her like that. She actually felt kind of… pretty… beautiful. She hadn't felt that way since her father had whispered it in her ear.

When she had been passed from slave trader to slave trader on her way to Ceitha, seven years ago, she had gone from princess to ugly, useless slave in a matter of days.

The wagon bumped along the road. December huddled in the corner, clutching the beautiful bow close to her chest. The wagon stopped suddenly, and she lurched forward. The back of the wagon was opened and the same soldier who had captured her dragged her out.

A man stood up on the front porch of a small wooden building. He was at least in his mid-thirties, and his face was scarred. Ember thought he looked ugly. He hadn't cared to shave for several days, and possibly not even bathe. Then he spoke, showing what was left of his teeth. "How much?"

"Eight hundred gold coins," the soldier lifted her by the back of her dress up onto the porch.

"Why so much?"

"She's an elf princess." The man on the porch scoffed as the soldier suddenly snatched the crown off of her head.

"Ay!" Ember squealed. "Amay doss lori!" She groped for the crown, but the soldier held it out of her reach.

Hesitantly, the man tossed two large bags of coins to the soldier. The soldier opened one and ran his finger through the gold inside it, not loosening his grip on Ember's dress. "Good doing business with you," he grinned. He pushed Ember forward, but she resisted and beat him with her bow. He loosened his grip on her and she began to run. She didn't know where, just away. The soldier was faster as he ran after her and grabbed her by her waist, swinging her over his shoulder.

"Loke sai cach! Loke sai cach!" December screamed, kicking and struggling.

"Here! Take her!" The soldier said, putting her on the porch directly in front of the man. He took her firmly by the arm, waved off the soldier, then took her inside the house. Ember looked around anxiously, taking in the scene of the place. It was quiet empty, besides a long metal pole attached to the wall and a few small stools. The man took a rope and bound her wrists together, then bound her to the metal pole tightly.

"You'll wait her for now," he told her gruffly. She struggled to sit, but her arms were tied so high, she couldn't reach the ground. A stool was just out of her reach. She flexed her foot to pull it towards her, but the man pushed it further.

"Ay!" she whined. The man laughed coldly. She kicked his leg, hard. He groaned.

"Princess, aye?" he scoffed again. "Ha!" Then he left, closing the door, and it was dark.

December drifted off on her knees, and awoke later as light streamed onto her face and eyes. The same gruff, ugly man untied her and dragged her out, half asleep, hair and dress disheveled. With the help of some other man, they lifted her into the back of a different wagon and locked it.

"How much is she?" the new slave trader asked, climbing into the front of the wagon and taking up the reins.

"Eight hundred-fifty gold coins," he replied.

"I'm not paying that!"

"She's an elf maiden." The slave trader handed him the coins reluctantly. December soon drifted to sleep in the back of the wagon.

The phrase, "She's an elf princess," was altered a lot. She soon became an elf maiden, then an elf peasant, then a common peasant and by the end of her journey she had become a common slave. The men she was passed to and from didn't take much notice of her. Ember didn't even look like royalty any more. Her messy hair fell over her ears and her once-pink, knee-length dress was now dirty and torn.

She finally reached the tiny town, Ceitha.

The marketplace was crowded with people wanting new slaves for their home, bartering for lower prices. Ember was after this slave girl who had been sold repeatedly by her previous masters. She was sold for fifty bronze coins, then Ember stood up on the stand. She looked at the crowd timidly. The slave trader introduced her to the crowd. "This is a young slave found during the siege of the elves. She may look small, but she is strong—she made the journey from Amianell to here—and can be trained easily. One thousand gold coins anyone?"

The crowd was silent. Only the noble and the royal would pay that much for a mere slave.

"I'll buy her!" A man pushed his way to the front. The crowd gasped. It was Lord Thomas Crouch, the richest man in Ceitha! He went close to the slave trader then leaned to whisper in his ear. "Are you absolutely certain she is worth one thousand gold coins, because I only buy the best of the best and—"

"Absolutely," the man replied. "Strong, durable, clever. She's one of a kind, my lord."

"One thousand coins, then," he gave him the bag. "Come, my sweet," he gently took December by the hand and helped her off the stand.

"Sold!"

December hadn't felt again like a princess until this night. She smiled, walking into the yard and to the large front door of the house. She slowly and quietly pushed the heavy door open and walked in, closing the door softly behind her. She ran up the stairs, down the hall, up the ladder and into the servants' quarters, where she tip-toed over sleeping bodies and sat down on her mat. She took off her beret and tossed it onto Farmer Johns' sleeping form. He clutched it and groaned, turning onto his side.

When December lay back on her mat, she realized how tired she was. She quickly untied her messy braids before pulling the thin blanket over her small body and curling up. She fell asleep instantly.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"Ah, George! Did you have a good sleep last night?" Dimitri waltzed into the general goods store and leaned on the bench, grinning at the shopkeeper.

"Sorry, sir," George muttered. "Do I know you?"

"I come around now and again. My name's Dimitri," he reached out and shook George's hand. "A nice day today, don't you think so, George? Nicer than yesterday."

"Aye," George agreed, keeping a wary eye on him while he carried on with a few chores.

"Anyway," Dimitri changed subject quickly. "I'm looking for a dark-skinned girl, knows elvish, about this high," he held his hand up to his chest. "Would you know where she might live?"

"Aye," George said. He knew who he meant. December. No other girl in Ceitha who matched her description spoke elvish. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm a friend."

George studied him for a while before deciding it would do no harm to tell him where the girl lives, if he really was her friend. "I believe she's living in a manor under the care of Lady Brunhilde. I don't know her last name, sorry. She lives outside of town—among the wealthier groups."

"Thanks," Dimitri breathed, starting to leave. "That helped—a little." He left the shop, George staring after him suspiciously.

Dimitri noticed a lady standing at a fruit stand close by. Maybe she would know something. He approached her.

"Excuse me, miss. My name is Dimitri and I was just wondering if a small, dark-skinned girl ever came by. I believe her name is December Shonti."

The old woman glared at him before declaring, "No buy, no information!"

"But I have no money!"

"No buy, no information!"

"Alright! Hold on," he turned around. Where could he get money fast? He saw a lady walking by with a large bag and grinned. Acting casually until she passed by him, he followed her stealthily. He waited until no one was watching, then he slipped his hand into her bag and felt around until he gripped a pouch, no doubt filled with money. He pulled it out and ran back to the fruit stand. "Give me a banana."

"Five bronze coins," she told him.

"No way!"

"Five bronze coins!"

"Alright!" He pulled five bronze coins out of the pouch and handed them to her, taking the banana. "So what do you know about Emma?"

"Emma?"

"December," Dimitri began to peel the banana.

"Ah, yes. She had been living with the Lord Thomas Crouch, though he left for Iyunthra many years ago. I fear what may have happened to him." She ignored Dimitri for a moment to tend to another customer.

Taking bites out of the banana, Dimitri asked, "Where is the manor?"

"No buy, no information."

"But I already bought something!" Dimitri yelled, frustrated.

"No buy, no ingormation!"

Groaning he said, "I'll take a pear."

"Three bronze coins."

"Whatever," he handed her the coins, dropping his banana peel and taking the pear. "So where's the manor?"

"It is outside of town—in the wealthy part. I believe it is the largest manor. Lady Brunhilde is the mistress now. She has four daughters, beautiful girls, and many servants."

"Thank you," Dimitri finished the pear in three large bites and tossed the core aside, turning to leave. He didn't want to risk asking this stubborn lady any more questions—he wasn't that hungry. He was determined to find this girl—Emma.

A/N: So… what do you think? I have baked muffins and even decorated them for anyone who likes giving constructive criticism or just constructive niceness. P lol. See the swirly icing patterns? Anyway, please, please comment on this chapter! I really want to know what you think! I really, really do appreciate my reviewers! Thank you!

Luv, Izzy

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