Young Writers Society

Even as the drunken dwarf finished his slurred, ill composed thought I saw climbing to my feet. His previous words, however, had struck a chord in me. have yer ever tried achieving anything without violence?

"Dwarves are not exactly known for their tact, you fool. And to be brutally honest, from what I've seen of you, this is the only form of behavior you lot do understand."

I was angry now...only it was a different sort of anger than before. I wasn't worried about gaining Harris' approval any longer, nor the fact that these three had nearly cost us the chance to ally ourselves with a powerful force. It wasn't even the fact that dwarf fought like a coward, waiting until I had turned my back before attacking.

"Where were you, dwarf, when Valin's outburst almost cost us this one chance at success? When I stayed in the room, to speak with Harris...you left. To drink. When I stayed, to talk Harris down, to convince her to NOT go against orders and have us thrown out...you were into your second bottle already. Never, ever lecture me about diplomacy."

I had had enough. I no longer cared about the dwarf, about Henry...not even about the ranger, Sirloaz, who had done nothing to invite my anger. Even as he sat on the ground, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face, I felt no emotion toward him. Is there any soul in there at all?

"If you have no intention of following the rules Harris has set, you will leave or be FORCED to leave," I said over my shoulder. "We have taken up residence in the officer's quarters, who have been kind enough to allow us to use them."

I stepped back a few paces, to leave a good distance between myself and the dwarf, then turned around--and almost ran into Adrian.

"Seraph!" he said, too loudly.

"What is it."

He snapped off a quick (and sloppy) salute, then said, "We're being duped."

I narrowed my eyebrows. "Explain yourself."

He nodded and said, "Yes sir. Harris has ordered that we be given special treatment. A feast, booze, the officer's quarters..."

"I was told that the officers had given up their quarters voluntarily."

"Yes sir, if by voluntarily they mean ordered to under penalty of court marshall."

I had to smile inwardly at that. "I see," was all I said.

I thought a moment, put a hand on Adrian's shoulder. He twitched at the icy touch of the tattoos, but held my gaze.

"Listen, Adrian. I need you to do me something."

"...Sure, no problem."

"Be friendly. Regardless of what the soldiers say to you, be grateful. We need to show these men that we are legitemate soldiers. Prove to them we are worthy to work with them."

"But...they hate us."

"Be better than they are. We HAVE to make this work, or the elven army WILL overrun this outpost. They have more soldiers, better arms, and backup."

"I'll try, Seraph.."

"And keep an eye on those three," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. He twitched slightly at my movement.

"Got it."

I patted him on the shoulder as I walked past, back toward the officer's quarters where we would be staying.

"If anyone needs me...I'll have turned in for the night."

I hated people. No--really, I did. Even though Valin was already kind to me, he was--well--he was a prince, wasn't he? And I was the orphaned daughter of a mountain guide. Not much in common to spark a conversation there. Henry wasn't too much of a bother when he could stay sober, the sot, but with Cyrus around there wasn't much chance of that. Adrian was a fop, Sirloaz was just plain weird, Seraph was--well, there was just no talking to Seraph for me right now, though I couldn't rightly fathom why--and I really didn't want to be hanging out with Alden, his fluffball, and that stupid bear. Carmenia was nice enough, sure, but she kept asking if I was all right, and making suggestive comments about Seraph. That latter was beginning to drive me up the wall--I was ready to just suggest she go bunk with him, but bit my tongue (for once in my life) and stalked out into the camp at large.

I didn't find anything to assuage my restlessness there, either. The men were either vaguely lewd (I was glad, at least, that these soldiers were better behaved than most I'd encountered) or completely overlooked me. After all, not only was I "one of those damned mercenaries," I was also a woman. Odds and embers... I nearly punched one of them in the mouth. At that point, I decided that removing myself from the company of men--all men--was a good idea.

So it was that I found myself wandering back into the camp well after sundown, exhausted and ready to deliver a tongue-lashing to the first person who crossed my path.

Unfortunately for me, that person happened to be one Lord Belfast. Though technically, I suppose I crossed his path--or our paths kind of... dead-ended near one another? I was just making my way into the cabin, intent on finding a bed to sleep in, when movement caught my eye. I looked up and saw Seraph methodically removing his armor. My stomach flip-flopped again and felt heat flood into my face as his shirt rode up a little, revealing-- I backed out quickly, pulled the door almost closed, and hesitated. My curiosity got the better of me; I pressed my face to the crack, felt my cheeks redden even further, and watched until he was done divesting himself of the crimson armor. I waited the space of a few breaths, then, opened the door, and walked in. I passed Seraph's bed with my head turned away; it was dim, admittedly, but I wouldn't have been surprised if the warrior could see in the dark.

Not long after I had settled down in my own bunk, though, I heard movement; a quick glance over my shoulder (damn my curiosity) showed me that Seraph had swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his chin restlessly. A minute later, he reached for his shirt and threw it back on, stalking quickly and quietly out of the cabin. ...And a minute after that, I was padding quietly out behind him, wondering what in the gods' names had possessed me.

I followed him out through the camp, sending a fierce scowl at one soldier who made as if to speak to me, and paused when he stopped not far from a tree, spinning to face me in the darkness. "Who's there?" he demanded.

The second the words barked from my mouth, I regretted them. Even in the deep shadows of night I saw her standing near the closest tent, obviously trying not to be seen.

"Jes' me, Seraph...sorr'" she said, walking into the light.

"Oh, Finn...I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was following me," I said, looking away from her and down at the ground. I walked a few steps toward the tree; the grass felt great on my bruised and blistered feet. I sat down, my back to the thick trunk.

"'S fine...ah' shouldn've follow'd yeh in the firs' place. Ah' wes jes'....jes'...worried abou' yeh." When speaking those last three words, she looked up to my face and met my eyes.

I smiled, my first honest one in...a...long time.

"Thank you...I assure you, though...I'm fine."

She nodded and said "Yea, ah' figgered's much...sorr' fer followin' yeh."

I shook my head, dismissing the notion. "No need. Your concern is very much appreciated. It is...not often that I get any."

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, obviously made uncomfortable by the statement.

"Forget it--get some sleep, Finn," I said with a smile. "We have a...a long day ahead of us." It almost hurt, knowing that this was the only night we would get to rest...to speak, before we would be on the road again.

She nodded. "Yeh, ah' should get some sleep..." But she didn't move.

Instead, she took a tentative step forward. To me, she looked as though she didn't know what she was doing, herself. I patted the soft grass beside me, and said, "Join me, then? It is not often I am allowed the pleasure of looking at the stars, without fear of death."

She smiled at me, then, and it was the more beautiful even than the stars. It was not often, either, that I had had such thoughts. Things were different, now. Something had changed.

She walked quickly to my side and dropped down, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"S'cold," she muttered. I nodded my agreement.

I hesitated a moment, then put my arm around her shoulders. she stiffened at first, then seemed comforted, or at least acceptant, of the touch.

"How're...how're the rest've 'em?" she asked me. I guessed she was referencing the rest of the party, and Cyrus' words came back to me, hitting me harder than before.

"Drunken fools--they don't understand the gravity of dealing with these people. They don't understand that to this army, discipline is everything. Loyalty to Harris is the greatest good. I...they...it's so frustrating, sometimes. Back home, they would never--" I cut my sentence short. She did not want to hear about where I came from, and all my riches and the power I wielded there.

"Back 'ome? Where's thet?" she asked--mumbled, really.

"Far to the East," was all I said in reply.

"What're yeh doin' 'ere, then?" she said.

"As a favor. My father knew this realm's king." We were silent a few minutes.

"Finn...am I--" I let the sentence hang a moment. Why would she care if I was a good leader? A better question, why did I care if she thought I was?

She looked at me a moment, her large eyes focused completely on me. I looked to the stars once more, slightly obscured by the branches of the tree. I rested my head on the trunk behind me.

"Are yeh what?"

"Am I...a good man? " The question left my mouth before I could bite it off. It was not even the question I had intended to ask...and yet, there it was. A good man? What was I thinking? Why would she care? Why in the Nine Hells would I care? I followed Falthyr, and no other opinion mattered.

I fell silent, and closed my eyes, waiting for the reply.

Apparently she was surprised as well. She didn't say anything immediately, and I didn't open my eyes to see her expression.

...Or perhaps it was just that she didn't want to give me the answer.

Then she murmured something under her breath.

"Carmenia--o'viously thinks so."

I frowned. I wasn't sure how to take that. Knowing Finn, though...I assumed it meant she did not share Carmenia's feelings.

"...I didn't ask Cermenia...I asked you." Wit that, I climbed to my feet and walked off. The grass still felt wonderful between my toes...but no longer comforted me.

He stood up and walked away; I just sat there, suddenly much colder than I had been before, staring after him for a few moments. He'd... I'd... what? "Seraph!" I called, jumping to my feet to follow him; I tripped on a twig, winced, and stumbled forward into a jog. Odds and embers, but it was hard to keep up with that man when he really started moving.

"Seraph!" This time he stopped and looked back at me, his gaze so cold I stopped dead. His good eye narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he started back towards camp. I lurched forward and caught his arm with both of my hands before he could move any further, and this time he whirled to face me; I couldn't quite make out his expression in the darkness, but I reckoned that was for the best.

"I--ye as'ed what I though'?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "I did."

"I--I think--" I hesitated. "Mean, I--aye! Yes, yes ye are a good man. Leas', I think ye are." Odds and embers, why were my cheeks so hot? I hoped he couldn't really see in the dark. "Ye scare the livin' dayligh's outta me sometimes, true 'nuff--the thin's you pull..." I shook my head and whistled lowly, stuffing my hands into my trouser pockets. "But ye're a good man. I en't got no doubts on tha'."

He didn't respond for the space of a few breaths, and that time stretched out uncomfortably long. Finally, after a few failed attempts at speech, he managed a curt nod and a strangled reply. "Thank you, Finn." I mumbled something incoherent in return, and there was another brief silence before he turned to look towards the camp. "It's late, and we have a long day ahead of us. Perhaps we should be getting back."

I nodded a little too firmly. "Righ'. Righ', sleep'd be good."

...If only it were that simple. After an awkwardly silent walk back to camp (during which, I noticed, my arm had an alarming tendency towards rubbing against his as we walked--I decided my body was subconsciously seeking the warmth he'd offered earlier) we arrived back in the cabin to find a snoring Cyrus in the bed I'd briefly occupied.

"Sonuva--"

Someone snorted in their sleep and grumbled something, and Seraph made a sign for me to be quiet and follow him. "Take my bed," he whispered. "I've slept on the floor before. In fact, I've slept much worse places."

I gaped at him. "I can' take yer bed, Seraph!"

"...Finn. Take the bed. You're--"

My eyes narrowed instinctively. "I'm wha'? A woman? Aye, aye. I am. An'?"

He stifled a frustated sigh. "Just take the bed, Fionnabhair."

"I en't takin' yer bed!" His good eye narrowed, and I realized that it was a losing battle; like I'd said, Seraph really was a good man. He'd insist until he won--and I really didn't feel like letting him win much of anything. Call it a competitive streak. I jutted my chin out and stared just as hotly back at him.

After a moment, he just rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his head in an endearingly frustrated gesture. Odds! Where'd tha' come from? "Fine. We'll share." I started to protest, but he silenced me with a quick hand motion. "Back to back. Soldiers do it all the time when space is tight. I swear on my honor that nothing will occur to damage yours."

I eyed him suspectly for a moment, but couldn't forget my own words from a few moments later. Too tired to argue more, I just nodded and awkwardly lay down on the near side of the bed; it sunk beneath his weight as he did the same, and I fell back against his back. I recoiled briefly, but then relaxed enough to settle back and enjoy the warmth his body provided. Cor, was it awkward, though, sharing a bed with a noble...

...though not as awkward as waking up to find my face nuzzled comfortably against his chest and one of his arms thrown over my waist.

Carmenia lay on her back on the hard, upper bunk bed, just perusing the events that taken place that day...

Thank you for...thank you for just being here...

Henry's words came back to her, and her hear pace quickened. He was a human, she thought despairingly. She could not be falling in love with a human. Humans were vile creatures that always smelled of sweat, and were not to be trusted.

And yet...Henry had the most wonderful smell, and she could not think of anything to compare it with. And she did trust him...the whole circumstance was very strange. Were these feelings actually hers? She found it hard to believe...

...I don't know ye, but I don't need to...

Henry's voice wafted into her dreams.

The bunk was rather lopsided with me on one side, her the other, and her back kept pressing to mine. I took comfort in the feeling, but she seemed distraight by it. Eventually, though, she let herself relax and let herself be pressed to me. To my knowledge, I fell asleep with a smile.For the first time, ever.

I had always dreaded sleep, because I was plagued by voices, in my sleep. Familiar, yet alien, voices. I never recalled what they said. Perhaps they spoke in a language not of this land. Perhaps I merely could not remember.

Before sleep too me, however, I thought. contrary to what Cyrus had said, I was not a violent man. I knew when a fight was necessary, and yes, of course I could be angered into a fight, just like any other man. I opened my eyes, but did not move my body at all, for fear of waking the woman who lay next to me. Even in the utter darkness, or perhaps because of it, the runes on my skin glistened, as if covered in oil. I knew the others could not see them in this darkness, but they still unnerved me. I was amazed Finn could touch me as she did, while they still covered my body. I slowly raised a finger to my face and traced the tattoos covering my ruined eye. I wondered if it would ever heal. I had never allowed myself the risk of finding out, previously.

Bane had almost taken me.

It was then that I realized just how close I had been to death, of the worst kind. Henry had truly saved my life. A shiver ran up my spine, and suddenly I was freezing. The tattoos that criscrossed my body seemed to absorb that cold, chilling me further, and beneath the skin.

Then my mind drifted back to Finn, the thin but muscular woman at my back. I took comfort in her warmth, and smiled.

Alden swept down from the sky towards the ground. Smoke obscured his view but whatever was burning wasn't a campfire. He ducked underneath the smoke and saw a large fire. Wagons were burning and elves lay dead everywhere.

Alden landed and approached the wagons. No one had been left alive, the attack had been with arrows.

Then Alden realized it wasn't Harris's people that did this. They would use arrows, but they would try to steal the supplies, instead of just burning them. The wagons were still full of stuff, mostly burned beyond recognition.

He didn't know what had really happened, but however it happened, the elves would be coming.

He took flight and headed home.

PLACEHOLDER

Henry

He woke to clattering noises.

Light was barely creeping through the low gaps in the cabin door, but it seemed the camp was wide awake; metallic clashes reached his ears from all directions. Blinking, he sat up. The blood thumped in his head, and he reached to rub the sore spot. It had taken sufficient punishment yesterday. Beside that, the itching at his side and the tenderness of his stomach since Seraph's blow were the only other things that preoccupied his waking mind.

A little whole later he was on his feet, fully dressed. He flung the rebellious parts of his hair back out of his eyes, tied in his sword and crossbow to his belt. His attention was elsewhere, though.

His eyes had spotted the sleeping figure of Carmenia, nestled deep into the comforts of the blanket; her hair flung out without grace. Henry thought she looked beautiful. It was hard to watch her when she was awake, reacting to him, noticing his gaze. Now, he could look at her as he wanted, as he wished he could express when she was near him. But there was always something that held him back, that deep, irrational distrust that he harboured to almost everybody. He knew there was no threat from her, and that any affection she held for him felt true, but there was nothing he could about his neurosis. Moments like this let him escape, at least.

The darkness of the cabin made Henry yearn for the outside, the bathing of light and the taste of fresh air in his lungs. Breaking himself reluctantly from the peaceful, lovely face of Carmenia, he tiptoed toward the door.

Which was when he saw them.

Entangled together were Finn and Seraph, herhead resting on Seraph's chest, his faintly tattooed arm clutching her tightly, protecting her. Henry was stunned -- he had noticed the two talking frequently, but had never seen the affection so explicit as just now. Though they were asleep, their body positions were enough to suggest the bond was strong. Henry was both happy and sad. For the two, he was glad they had found each other, for they both deserved someone close, yet he was jealous of their connection, and their ability to see past unimportant details. Like class.

Or race. Henry sighed and pushed open the door, leaving the sleeping couple to their pleasant dreams.

Outside it was abuzz with energy and movement. Henry barely noticed it. All he could think was -- When will I see past it? When will I be able to see her just as she is, rather than a reflection of her race?

The elves had burned Sedgeley to the ground, which may as well have been Toxworth all over again, and Carmenia was an elf. The blind, tormented part of his brain whispered to him that she was guilty. He dodged a troop of soldiers jogging past in their heavy armour and went to find some solitude.

Burke watched as the filthy merc ran off. He couldn’t understand how a soldier of his stature, should be made to kiss glory bastards arses. However, he did recognize that young paladin. He briefly remembered a soldier by the name of Adrian running from battlefield. He grinned. If he was right, he could get rid of one of those glory hogs, at least.
He needed to tell Harris this; after all, it was in her best interests. How reliable is a coward?

He raced to Harris’s tent. He pushed the tent flap open and entered. “The Paladin with the mercenaries, his name is Adrian Temperus.” Harris coughed now irritated “If I remember correctly there was someone with that name who ran from battle about a year ago.”
Harris looked up from the map she was studying a slightly annoyed expression on her face. "What!" Harris barked. "No wonder he does nothing!” She turned round and started hunting through files. Burke watched with a murderous smile, waiting for the moment when the evidence came forth, and the paladin's past was uncovered.", suddenly Harris cried out “Here it is, you were right

· Captian Adrian Temperus
· Third division
· Foot Soldiers
· Led by General Allen Crent.
· Last seen at battle of Antiemopole.


“Harris looked up from parchment with rage showing on her face “Get that goddamn paladin here now, this army will have no deserters.”

Carmenia yawned, and sat up, still half-asleep. She readjusted the blanket that had tangled around her legs, and sat up, trying to figure out what time it was. Sometime in the morning, she thought, brushing back a wavy lock of her hair.

She stood up and looked around her, most everyone was gone. She panicked. They didn't leave her here, did they? They couldn't do this. She was not welcome or safe here alone. As much as she hated to admit that she needed them, she knew she did.

She stepped outside into the light, her heart pounding in her chest. Calm down. Calm down. A couple soldiers glanced her way, with a smirk on their faces, and one took a couple steps towards her.

Hoping she gave off the appearance of being fearless, she dodged past them and weaving her way in and out of buildings, she found a small wood building that seemed to be abandoned. Perfect, she thought, quickly stepping into it. They would never find her here. She opened the creaky door, and stepped inside, shutting it behind her.


Rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks between the wooden boards, revealing particles of dust that floated through the air, but other than that, it was dark. A floorboard creaked, sending chills up her spine.

"Is anyone there?"

General Harris sat behind her desk. She had dispatched Sgt. Burke quickly with a bit of theatrics. She now had to deal with a deserter and the Elites; she decided she liked that name. She'd have to figure out how to deal with him, something for her to bring to Prince Valin's attention.

Another person came in. She slipped in quietly, but when some papers fell off the desk, Harris acknowledged her.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"My name is Becky Stillman, I want t' learn, I want t' fight."

"You're in the wrong place. The army has no place for women in combat."

"Then I'll be a general, like you. Anything."

"Even I can't fight in combat. Where are you from?"

"Sedgeley, ma'am."

"Sedgeley? Well I'll be damned, I thought no one survived that attack."

"No one else did."

"Not all of Sedgeley is dead. We have a fighter from Sedgeley, but she wasn't there when the attack occurred."

"I wasn't either." Harris decided not to question her further on this.

"I understand your enthusiasm, but I'm afraid regulations are clear. Female personnel are strictly forbidden from entering combat."

"There ain't nobody? There's nobody who's can teach me?"

"The job you want isn't one I can give you. Sorry."

"What about that fighter, then? The other one from my town?"

"What did you say your name was?"

"Becky Stillman."

"Your father wouldn't have been Colonel Joseph Stillman?"

"That's was my father."

"I knew him, he was a fine soldier," she stopped, briefly remembering something from long ago.

"If you're serious about fighting the elves, then I suggest you search out the group of mercs stationed here. They're known as 'The Elites.' They're less discriminate about their membership, but you'll do well I think."

"Thank you ma'am."

Alden burst through the door.

"General, there is an elvish convoy burning in there territory," Alden said. Becky squealed and ran out the door. Alden looked after Becky. Harris just shook her head.

"Good. The elves will be attacking soon and they'll be weaker.

"No, it's bad. We didn't do it. The elves will claim we did it and they'll say we started the war."

"Thank you Alden, wake up Seraph and Prince Vallin. I need to talk to them about something anyways. By the way, this came for you," she said, handing him a letter. Elegant cursive letters crossed the paper and Alden's feathers fanned out on instinct, the equivalent of blushing.

"Yes General, thank you ma'am," Alden said, leaving quickly.

(OOC: Is it daylight or nightime? I'm unlcear so, I'm going to say its somewhere between night and dawn)

Valin didn't sleep. He didn't need to. Centuries of training himself and depriving himself of so-called "necessities" like food and sleep had enabled him to go for days without sleep. Not too mention the fact that sleep was a form of weakness. If someone wanted to, they could sneak into your chambers and slit you're throat while you slept. Valin didn't like those odds.

Rather than sleeping, he just sat by the fire, and sort of...stared into contemplating its flames, jumping and dancing around through the air, twisting and molding their message to those who knew and could see the meaning.

He sat there, staring blankly into the fire, not really thinking about anything, and yet, thinking about everything all at the same time. Eventually, he saw the form of Alden circle over the camp before he landed by Harris' tent, and quickly afterwords running towards the building where we were quartered. He burst in the "barracks" without noticing Valin wasn't inside them.

"Seraph! Valin! Get up, Harris needs to talk to you!" Valin heard him yelling. By the time Alden realised that Valin wasn't in the barracks, Valin had walked inside saying "Looking for me, Alden?"

"Yes, Valin. Urgent news. Elven convoy was burned in their territory humans not. the cause. Elves....," He paused, catching his breath, "will claim the Humans started the war, as they are no doubt preparing for war now. Harris needs to speak with you,"

Seraph and Valin were off in an instnant, and a few seconds later were in the command building with Harris. At sight of them, Harris said the necessary niceties
"Lord Belfast, Prince Valin," She began.
"Valin," Valin interjected.
"That's what I said, prince Valin," Harris replied, fully making a visual effort to pronounce it properly.
"No, General, not Prince Valin, just Valin. I'm not one for titles, as long as I get the respect I deserve. You may call me by my first name," Valin said.
"Oh, um, okay," Harris said, visably taken aback. "As I was saying, Valin," she said, pausing looking for approval. At Valin's nod, she continued,
"Its good you're here. We have an urgent situation on our hands."
"I heard from Alden," Valin replied, before Harris could give a full breifing.
"Well, then, Valin," she continued. "Here is the full situation report," walking towards a giant sand table model of the area. Pointing first at the base where we were at, she said
"At this base we have 3 regiments, all combat ready. In various places throughout the frontier we have about 3 to 4 other regiments that can be battle ready within two days. The Elves," she said, beginning to point at various other markers, "have 3 regiments of swordsmen, and two archer regiments here," she said pointing to the first marker. Continuing onto the second marker, "They also have two regiments of each and a cavalry division here. It is commanded by the Steward of Tor Arcana," she said, searching Valin's face for emotions. Though struggling to do so, she found none.
"If we go to battle, General," Valin began, "I want command of an elite unit, and I want to lead the attack here," Valin said, motioning his hand in a flanking position around the marker that was commanded by the one who Usuroed his crown.
"What do you mean, if?" Harris said, in protest, "We have every reason to believe that they are marching on us now, convinced we did it!"
"I know," Valin said, calmly. He continued, adding,
"I also have every reason to believe that they don;t want to fight you as they don't have the resources to fight a long drawn out war with your realm, nor will killing Elves help me in my bid to regain my throne. I ask is that you allow my group and I a few hours to come up with an alternate plan to attempt before we go to all-out war, first."
"Alright, Valin," she said. "You have 2 hours"
"Thank you, General," Valin said, turning on his heal and walking out the door.

Becky Stillman

Dragon!

It was gigantic, nearly as tall as she was. It's claws were long and curved, it's front legs scaly and powerful. It's entire body was covered in feathers and it's wings were enormous. It's tail swished back and forth behind it. It was looking at her, it's brown eyes staring her down over the hooked beak, under the crest on it's head.

It spoke then, a voice like a growl. "General, there is an elvish convoy burning in there territory."

It was going to pick her flesh off her bones. Becky couldn't help herself. With a cry, she turned and fled. The general was doomed.

Becky ran through the camp, not daring to look behind her should the dragon be following. When she got to the edge, she thought it was safe to stop, at least for a minute and sat trying to regain her breath.

She'd done it again. As always, when people were in mortal peril, she'd ran away.

A dwarf with a mane of brown, braided hair came out of the nearest tent, blinking in the light.

"Please," Becky gasped, looking up at him from her place on the ground. "You've got t' help the general. There was- I don't know. A monster. Lot's o' feathers. And- and a beak!"

"What?" the dwarf asked.

"Please!" Becky pleaded, scrambling to he feet. "We've got t' do something, or she'll be eaten!"

A man rounded the corner, taking in the scene with bright green eyes.

"What's going on?"

"I really couldn't say," said the dwarf, raising an eyebrow.

"It was 'orrible! With so many feathers. Big eyes and a beak and the claws; they was the worst, all long and curvy. You've got t' help me!"

"I think..." the man said, with the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I think she's talking about Alden!"

Just then, two more people rounded the corner. One was a man Becky didn't recognize, tall and regal with a long black ponytail. Behind him was someone she did.

"Finn?" she asked, looking at the unpleasantly familiar face. Becky turned to the rest of the people standing around her. "Then you must be the Elites!"

OCC: If something I've said goes against anyone's character, let me know and I'll fix it right away. My character's bio is in the discussion thread.

I gawked. I couldn't help it. Sedgeley was, effectively, dead, as was everyone in it. They said there'd been no survivors, and after seeing the waste of my village, I wasn't inclined to disagree. So seeing that face in the middle of the army camp... odds and embers!

"Becky?" I asked, my voice squeaking somewhat, then scowling. "Wha' the feck're you doin' 'ere?"

"I came to learn to fight! You are the Elites, right?" she looked at my companions, then at me, eyeing me doubtfully. I could almost see the thoughts in her head--what is that freak doing with the Elites?

Old memories of scorn stirred in my head as I looked at the plain, younger woman. Derisive laughter, the occasional tossed stone--the whispered rumors that hurt more than anything.

With a growled insult and an emphatic, rude hand gesture, I stalked away from the last survivor of Sedgeley.