Rated 12+ for fantasy and violence.
The image of the dream that Anna had been savoring slowly faded
from her mind, like a picture that had been viewed too many times
finally losing its color. Anna stirred, and suddenly wondered why she
ached so terribly. It took her a few moments before the realization
that she actually woke up sunk in, and when it did, she desperately
wished for her memories instead.
She turned her head ever so slightly to the left. It felt much too
heavy, much too hard. Pain was rushing through her veins and she felt
her dry lips stick together. She felt above her a sun blaze down
unforgivingly, and knew immediately she had no protection of the forest
trees. With difficulty, she forced one eye open. And what she saw
shocked her greatly.
She was in a savannah somewhere, not at all like the place where she
and Darell had fallen. A large lioness laid at most three feet from
her, licking a small cub’s back. The tiny creature rested in its
mother’s grasp contentedly as she continued soothing her with her
tongue.
Anna heard something that almost sounded like a roar. She saw another
cub, looking a little older than the one his mother held, standing up
strong and brave. It was obvious he was trying to muster a mighty growl.
A different cub sat off to the side, her head resting on her paws.
Finally annoyed at her brother’s screech, she jumped up and tackled him. Even
at her young age, the movement was quick, beautiful, precise. Anna knew
it was meant to be playful, but it looked nothing of the sort.
For some reason that was beyond her, Anna wasn’t scared. She knew she
should’ve been, but she wasn’t. There was nothing in her heart, just a
void, empty sea with memories of emotions that she had once lived by. She sighed and moved, letting the dry grass beneath her scrape her even
drier skin.
The lioness looked up suddenly. Immediately the cubs stopped. At
their pause, the mother made a grunting noise to gather them, and suddenly spoke. Anna laid there, at first trying to figure out her words, but then was shocked when she realized the beat was speaking in her own language.
“Children, gather ‘round! The human is awakening!” Her voice was prim,
proper, and curt, but it also had a tint to it that was almost savage.
Anna forced herself to sit up, resting on her elbows. Her head began to
spin, but she stared into the emerald, shining eyes of the lioness. She
waited for fear to overcome her, but it never did.
“Mam,” growled one of the children, “should I wake Dadda?”
“No,” she responded, her eyes fixed on Anna. “Let him be.”
The child that had been resting in her mother’s arms only moments
before was wandering around aimlessly. Without even turning her head
the mother seemed to know. “Lynaira . . .”
“Yes, Mam.” The girl cub raced after her dazed sister, and pulled her
back only half-heartedly.
The lioness only stared on at Anna. Her eyes were confused, curious.
“This is most peculiar.”
“What is it, Mam?” The cubs drew closer.
“The human.” She narrowed her eyes. “She isn’t afraid.”
“She?” The more outgoing of the girls perked up immediately. “This is
a human girl? Oh, Mam, she’s beautiful!”
“And bold,” muttered the mother darkly. Immediately she straightened
her back, opened her mouth, and unleashed a skin peeling roar at Anna. Anna
could hear the terrifying intonation in it, the pitch that made people
scream and run in terror. But to Anna, nothing was more frightening
than the stench.
The lioness pulled away, her eyes dark upon realization that Anna
hadn’t even flinched. “Why aren’t you afraid?” she whispered, more to
herself than anyone else.
Yet Anna felt compelled to answer. “I don’t know.”
The children skittered behind their mother in terror and the lioness
jumped, startled. “You . . . you can understand us!”
“I know. It’s just as much of a shock to me as it is to you.”
The lioness’ eyes were enlarged, her face rigid with confusion. “I
can’t--I don’t--no, I can’t comprehend! No outsider could be able to
understand us since magicians walked freely!”
“As I said, I’m in as much shock as you are.”
The lion, still disquieted, shook her head quickly. “But . . . are you
. . . you are, I mean . . . human?”
Anna was irritated by this question. “Of course I’m human! What, don’t
I look like one?”
“Well, yes . . .” She hesitated, staring at the human with daggered
eyes. “It’s just . . . well . . . you shouldn’t . . . you shouldn’t
understand me.”
“As I said--”
“I know.” Her fear was silenced, and she brought on her stiff and
proper attitude as she stared at Anna squarely. “Who are you?”
“A human, as you very well know.” Her eyes too were sharp. “And you
are?”
The lioness wasn’t up for playing games. “I am called Sympathique, but call me Sympa.” She
paused and shifted so that her cubs were revealed. “This,” she said,
nudging the small, dazed lion, “is Cyldaminnie.”
“Sill-duh-minnie?”
“Yes. This”--she motioned to the cub who had just retrieved
Cyldaminnie--“is Lynaira.”
“Lynn-air-e-uh.” Anna once again had to repeat the name, shocked at
the peculiarity of them.
Sympa went on easily. “This is Astorial. And behind you is Brassin, my
husband.”
Anna repeated the last two names softly: “As-tour-e-l. Brass-in.”
Then, raising her voice, “Very, uh . . . interesting names. Exotic.”
“Thank you.” Sympa had not let down her harsh and firm guard. “Now,
are you going to give me your name, or do I have to make one up for
you?”
“Anna.” Compared to Cyladminnie, Sympa, Lynaira, Astorial, and
Brassin, her name sounded simple. But she liked it that way. From her
name and her looks, people believed she was just another average girl.
But she was far from that.
Part 2
I haven't read your other chapters yet, but I saw you had 40+ views and no review. I hate when that happens.