The Lord of the Matrix

Prologue:

If there was a center of the universe, this is it:

My name is Steve Bateman.  I am the creator, the moderator, the giver of the Matrix.  The Matrix is the most powerful force in the universes—every universe.  However, with great good comes great evil.  The Matrix has been stolen.  The foe of everything living, Backstabber and his thugs have claimed their prize and with it they plan to invade the universes.  The Matrix will power Backstabber’s armies to strengths never seen before.  He intends to crown himself Supreme Commander over the universes.  The sun will forever set.  The winds forever blow.  Ashes will rise to great figures of evil and hate.

	With the aid of his henchmen, Apollyon—Lord of Fire and Flame—, Sixty—Lord of Darkness and Black—and Savage—Lord of Pain and Anguish—, Backstabber has taken the Matrix.  Time is all that stands between the destruction of my universes and there is not much time left.  To insure that I can not reclaim the Matrix—while his armies unite—Backstabber has broken it into three pieces, entrusting each piece with one of his dark Lords.  

	The only chance for the universes are eight individuals.  They are paired, living in different universes and unaware of each others existence.  I created them long ago in case this evil should come close to befalling justice and right.  I call on them now.  I use the last of my power—I reshape their universes, removing them.  I also reshape the universes of the dark Lords, removing them.  And they converge together on a new playing field, a new world which I have created.  These eight are the only chance…

	They must defeat all of the dark Lords, defeat Backstabber and return the Matrix for peace and order to be restored.

Chapter 1:  The Fellowship of the Matrix.

“Azoric, anytime today would be nice.  We only have the garage while my mother is out grocery shopping.  Oh, I’m sorry—Angelo Dante, are you ready?”  Zor Primus drops his neck, his elegant, purple curls shade his eyes and oil his forehead.  His small frame doesn’t seem fitting of the large bass strapped over his shoulder.  Behind him, their drummer—as well having long, purple curls—syncs his symbol crashes to seconds.  “Dude, it is practice.  You don’t have to spend thirty minutes tuning the guitar.”

	“I hear you, just shut up a minute.”  Azoric tightens some of the strings.  His thumb runs across the electric guitar and the amp powers sound throughout the garage.  “We are twenty-four years old, Zor.  We’ve been doing this band for five years and we still haven’t landed one gig.  It is because we aren’t serious and because we sound awful.  Maybe if we spent time properly tuning our instruments they would sound like we intend them to.”

	“Serious?  I want to practice, play and get better.  That is not serious?”  The two share a look.  Their eyes part and Azoric tunes again.

	Outside the sun fries green grass brown.  Harsh shadows cast themselves along the pavement.  The neighbors peak out of their closed blinds and windows.  Every time they hear the beginnings of practice, they contemplate moving.   Some have moved, citing The Purples as their reason.  A paper covering the local music scene has a column, where some smart-mouth bad-mouths bands for a living.  This reporter described The Purples as, the only thing that could lower land values more than toxic waste.  None of this discourages Zor.  He believes in his band.  Bad looks from neighbors or bad reviews (well—review, really) or pleas from his mother don’t change his mind.

	Azoric used to think the same.  Zor has seen the change.  “You think I am not serious?  I see, don’t have the guts to say it, huh?  Well, I’ve been wondering about you lately.”  Azoric loosens a string.  “What’s with cutting your hair?  And dying it brown?  We are The Purples.  The long, purple curly hair—have you forgotten?  It is our calling card.  It is how people are going to know us from the rest of the faces in the crowd.”

	“Yeah, being known from the rest of the crowd got me fired from Kinko’s.”

	“That’s not all.  You’ve changed man.  What’s with not responding to your name.  I am beginning to think you were serious about refering to you as, Angelo Dante.  Are you having some kind of identity crisis or something?”

	“Maybe I don’t want to be a Purple anymore.”  Azoric’s guitar slides across the garage, his arms in the air after throwing it.  “This band is going nowhere—I am going to nowhere.   I want to do something more with my life than drink beer, sit on the couch waiting for your mother to leave so we can practice.”

	“Oh really!  How about that Mickey—we’re not good enough for him anymore.”  Zor kicks the guitar away.  “If that is the way you want it, fine.  You are holding The Purples down anyway.  I hope I never see you again.”  Zor about-faces and crosses his arms.

	“Uhh, Zor?” Mickey asks.

	“I won’t speak until he is gone.”

	“That’s just it.  He is.”

	“What?” Zor spun around.  Azoric is gone.  No where.  Not in the driveway, in the street—not anywhere.  “Did he just disappear?”

	Mickey blinks.  “Whoa, Zor?  Where did you go?  Zor?  Guys?  Is this some kind of joke?”

An entire horn section belts notes across the Libre Chica, the world’s most famous runway.  Flashes flicker across the room—snapping pictures of famous models for the likes of People, Cosmo, Glamour, Entertainment Weekly.  The designer behind the Falls Seasons best collection clamers back stage.  With every model who walks the runway, the cheers rise.  The whispers already trade mouths, one-of-a-kind, rare-genius, they should frame it and hang it on a wall.  

	Dressed all in black, with a clipboard and pencil, Tony sweats like a mule, his big nose heaving breaths, his glasses slide along its ski slope middle.  “Raven!  Fields!  There you are.”  Raven has just slid on a short black skirt and a purple sweater—cut with a large collar, her shoulders peaking out of either end.  Fields changes behind the curtain, zipping up an evening gown.  “They are saying both of you two are the prizes of the show.  You both look terrific,” he lisps.  “The both of you are certainly the best supermodels in the world.  Anything you two wear turns to gold.”

	Raven slings her green locks and smiles.  “No Tony, you are genius.  I’ve loved your collection since your first started.  I am glad to be in your show.”  Raven’s vanity mirror and table have makeup and hair spray all over, with Iron Chef playing on a small television set.   “I have to go.  I am on the stage in thirty seconds.”  Raven’s heels click along the dressing room floor.

	“Fields, are you almost ready, dear?  Raven finishes the business casual and you are first in the evening wear.”

	“I’ll be ready.”  Fields fusses with the bust of the dress and straightens with a tug.  She picks at her hair—which lays flat and then curls into buns at the bottom.

	The crowd outside explodes in shouting.  Tony smiles.  “That must be Raven.”  He assumes she just walked the runway.  The other models scream in horror and many in the crowd scream as well.

	What has happened? Fields thinks.

	The two rush to the runway.  She just disappeared, they make out over the commotion.

	“Disappeared?” Tony asks, ready to tear out his hair.  “How could this happen?”

	“I don’t—”

	“Fields?  Fields?  Where did you go?  Fields?  Oh no, I’m ruined!

	“Ruined!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The full moon lights foodmart’s way.  He has crossed through this cemetery hundreds of times—now, when he needs his instinct, it’s gone.  His breaths at a frantic pace while his legs pump across the grass, hurdling tomb stones.  Behind him, he can hear the Slayer’s foot steps.  She runs much faster, tackling him.

	“Wait Buffy!  It was just a little midnight snack.”  Foodmart’s vampire fangs glisten in the moon light, otherwise very frightening to humans—not to Buffy Sommers.  “No need to get hasty.”

	Out of the Slayer’s coat appears a stake.  “You amuse me.  It is too bad I have to kill you.”

	“Not so fast!” Marrin shouts.  She has watched this entire time.  She follows foodmart.  He can never take care of himself.  “He might be an easy kill but you’ll have to get through me!”  Marrin steps under one of the cemetery lights, dressed in black, her fangs drawn.  Her dark blue green hair rides the wind.  Her eyes speak of a three century year old madness.

	Buffy separates herself from foodmart.  “Marrin—I’ve been waiting for this.  You are I have some unfinished business.”

	“You wait no longer.  It is time to finish it.”

	“Let’s.”  The Slayer raises the stake.  “Where’d you go?”  She looks around, foodmart has disapeared too.  “What the hell?”

“Yo, no one can make that jump.  You are nuts if you think you can do it.”  A thick, mixed Aussie-British accent speaks.  “Not just any nut can do a fifteen foot ramp.  It takes skill, skill you don’t have.”

	Punkr ollies his board.  “I don’t care what you say Duo.  This weekend I am doing it.  Someone has to put that idiot Landon in his place.  He thinks he is so good at boarding because he won the Junior World Championship.  Let me tell you something.  He is no better than me.”

	Blue haired and pierced Duo pulls a piece of gum from his chest pocket.  He is wearing a mechanics shirt with the name Gus sown on it.  “Listen, no one is going to care if you don’t show.  Just cause the guy challenged you doesn’t mean you have to do it.  Sure, some people will laugh at you come Monday at school but they will forget when Landon challenges someone else that same afternoon.”

	Duo sits on the steps on the local mall.  Punkr has been boarding the parking lot for the last minutes.  In five minutes someone will order them off the property—call them no good kids and threaten to call the cops.  They’ll raise their middle fingers, cuss and walk away

	Only this time…they disappear.

The forest is black with death.  The sky has three moons.  They are close to each other and vary in size.  One really large…with the other two other proportional moons.  

	When they arrive they are being hunted.  Large, dog like creatures stalk the forests, the soldiers of Savage, called Morrigans.  He has sent them to find and kill the ones chosen by Steve Bateman.  

	The eight can’t describe what has happened.  They didn’t fall out of the sky or wake up in this world… they just appeared.  Azoric saw Zor’s garage and then this black forest, the Morrigans closing in.  Others appear with him.  

	He assumes the leadership role, ordering them to run.  They’ve been running for the last half hour.  “Come on!”  He doesn’t know where to run—only that he should run away from the barking.  However, he suspects the Morrigans have been playing a trick.  The barking sounds howl from the west, die in the west and kick up in the east.  They are trying to trap us, he thinks over his hysterical breathing.  Everyone else follows.

	Fields has ripped a slit to her mid-thigh out her dress, freeing her legs to run.  “Raven!  Hurry up!”

	Behind them all, Raven trails.  Raven ditched her pumps after a hundred yards of running.  The terrain isn’t flat, in fact, it rose and descended in ways she doesn’t understand.  Rocks and twigs litter the ground.  Raven’s feet are bloody and sore, swollen for the last two miles.  Tears jet-stream from her eyes.  Fields wears a pair of normal flat footed shoes, she never walked the runway.  

	She can run no further.  “I can’t.  I can’t.  My feet.  They…” Her breath is short and she collapses.

	From the rear, foodmart swoops her into his arms and runs an all out sprint, not dodging the branches, which cut up his face and arms.  “Keep running, they are behind me!  I can hear their paws!  Don’t stop running!”

	Duo and Punkr keep pace with Marrin—she appears mean and violent.  This comforts them, if anyone can housebreak these beasts, she can.  The forest hits a harsh incline and the entire group skates downhill.  Their feet fall ahead of them and slip on patches of wet leafs.  At any second, they could be swept up and crash the entire hill—probably killing them.

	The very corner of the sky morphs from black, to purple, to red.  “The sun will be raising soon!” Azoric shouts.  “Maybe then we will be able to see where we are going and formulate a plan.”

	“I have a plan,” Marrin shouts.  “Get some very powerful explosive and lets show them what we’re made of.”

	“Are you suggesting we blow ourselves up?” Duo asks, falling back a few strides.  He doesn’t want to be part of it.

	“No!” Marrin leaps over the rotten trunk of a fall tree and lands, her left foot slipping out.  A might crunch follows her fall.  She slides along her knees, ripping her pants and tearing her skin.  “Not show them what we’re made of literally!”  She rolls and jumps into the air catching a large branch to slow her momentum and falling on her feet, not missing a stride of her sprint.  “Why would I suggest that?”

	She hears no response.

	“I say we head towards the sun.  At least then we know that we won’t lose each other!”  At this point, they are all within ear shot.  He can only see Zor Primus, who has kept close and very quiet during the chase.  Zor and Azoric have been friends since kindergarten, he knows that his friend only has so much running in him.

	“Maybe if we split up, we’ll have a better chance.”  Punkr doesn’t know if this is or is not a good idea.  It is just a line he heard in a movie once.  “It was just a suggestion.”

	“Shut up and run you fools!”  Raven’s tiny frame does not slow foodmart down a step.  In fact, he has sped up.  Being from the world of the undead, he does not need breath to move.  Marrin and him could keep this up for hours.  “They are gaining on us!”  He lowers his voice.  “First Buffy and now this…it was just a midnight snack.”

	The tip of the sun shines over the horizon and the barking stops.  After a few minutes of silence, Azoric slides to a stop.

	“I think they are gone.”

They find a clearing in the woods.  A large field of tall grass.  In the center of the field are eight rocks in a circle.  Each takes a seat for a few minutes.  Marrin and Foodmart leave moments later to find some fire wood.

	The light, which should burn Marrin and foodmart to ashes does not.  This is only the first in many weird happenings for the two vampires.

	“You saved her.”  Marrin bends over and examines another log.  The forest is bigger than she could imagine.  From the clearing she sees it stretching across the land.  In the distance, a mighty mountain lives in the sunlight—however its tip is a circle of darkness.  “You saved her.  A human.  You might have been killed or eaten by one of those beasts.”

	Foodmart doesn’t care.  She may have bit him and saved his life…she does not own him though.  “Listen, we were sticking in a group.  I just picked her up and ran.  I don’t know why I did it.  Speaking of which—how come you are gathering wood for them?  Why did you just eat them and be done with it all?”  Marrin has not admitted that her thirst for human blood has left—foodmart’s is also gone.

	Marrin doesn’t respond to the query.  She picks up logs.

Marrin returns to find that the group has voted on a leader.  A smiling Azoric frowns at Marrin’s sneer.  She throws the logs on the ground.  “You had a vote without me?  I demand we vote again!”

	“It wouldn’t make a difference,” Punkr responded.  “The vote was unanimous.”

On the way back from gathering logs, foodmart stumbles upon a lagoon of salty, hot water.  He dips his hand in the water.  Upon pulling it out the cuts on his hands have disappeared.

	“The water has some kind of healing capabilities.”

	Foodmart starts the fire for the group and carries Raven to the spring after.  Raven sits on the rocks now, her designer clothing tattered.  Her legs are shin deep in the lagoon.  It stings but heals her feet.  “So what is it with your friend Marrin, not too friendly?”

	“Oh Marrin?  She is a ball, funniest girl I know.  She just has to warm up to you.”

	“Are you guys, like, going?”

	Foodmart, in his colossal ignorance gives a confused look.  Enlightenment springs on his face.  “Oh, like dating?  No.  Absolutely not.  Marrin is like a big sister to me.”

	“I noticed.”  Raven inspects one of her feet, the water returns them to normal size and manicures her toe nails…if this lagoon can do this for my nails, imagine what it could do for my…or my…and my… “So you’re vampires, huh?  Don’t you bite people like me?”

	“Usually but I am content without the whole death thing—for now anyways.  Maybe after we dispose of those dog hunters, that’ll change.”

	“Hold old is Marrin?”

	“Three hundred and forty seven.  And let me tell you, when you hit that age, you get stuck in your ways.”  Raven smiles at how he carries on—not thinking any of it as odd.  Marrin doesn’t look a day over twenty-five…neither does he for that matter.  “She is always bossing me around, foodmart do this, foodmart do that, foodmart you are going to get yourself killed.  She treats me like a baby.  I’m not eighty-nine years old any longer, you know?”  Raven nods, she is twenty-two, unsure if she wants to live to eighty-nine.  “Hell, I’ll be two-hundred in three months.  For all practical purposes, I am not even a teenager any longer.  But no, Marrin, in all her infinite wisdom…”

	“I am sure her heart is in the right place.”  Vampires with hearts? Raven thinks.  Foodmart’s eyes converge in the same expression as hers.   The two laugh.  “It is too bad we don’t have any pots and pans.”

	“You cook?”

	“Not really, I George Foreman though.”  Foodmart doesn’t get the joke.  “Never mind.  I just watch a lot of Iron Chef.  I know how to make a lot of cool stuff with really weird ingredients.”

	“Weird ingredients are in no short supply here.”

	Around the lagoon, twelve different types of flowers.  Each unique and touching in its own way.  Large and lovely peddles—or bright oranges with subtle black.  Moss and vines grow over the rocks and leap frog lilles space along the lagoons surface.  

	Hours after the first sun rise, a second sun is beginning to rise.   If Duo’s theory that the Morrigans can’t be in day light holds out, they have hours to hunt food and sharpen sticks for weapons.  A task foodmart turned down to carry Raven here—against Marrin’s wishes.  

	“Can I ask what is with all the black?”

	Foodmart looks over his apparel.  Black shirt, black pants, black socks, black boots.  “The strap on my underwear is white.”  He reaches a quarter inch under his pants and snaps, proving it.  “It is just a vampire thing.  I mean, I love wearing colors.  After all the vampire movies, people weren’t scared by fangs dressed in white Polo with beige Dockers.  So we had to go with black.  How are your feet doing?”

	“They are better.”

“You sure you know what you are doing?”  Zor unweaves one of his bracelets and uses it to tie his hair back.

	Marrin rolls her eyes.  “Yes.  Now will you shut up?”

	Zor, Marrin and Azoric stand in a small lake they discovered after hiking through the grassy fields.  The crystal clear lake mocks their stomachs, fish swim out of the water, in their eyes and to their stomach.  Marrin has a long, thin stick, which she sharpened to a point with a pocket knife she keeps handy.  Hundreds of years ago, some Japanese sailors taught her how to spear fish.

	She stabs into the water and misses for the fifth time.  She curses and then focuses her eyes on the water.

	“Marrin, no offense—” Azoric is careful with his vocabulary when speaking to Marrin.  His precaution multiplies now that she holds a sharp object.  “—but we might be too deep.”  Azoric guesses they are in two feet of water.  The fish scatter after the spear breaks the surface.  They are out of sight by the time her spear lodges itself in the sand.  “Maybe if we just took a few steps to shore and you took some practice spears, we could go deeper.”

	“Shut up, you are scaring away the fish,” Marrin orders.

	“And I’m sure your spearing makes them flock to us like my grandparents to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”  Zor laughs at his own joke.

	“Oops!”  The spear finds its way in-between Zor’s legs and smacks him behind the knee.  He falls, butt first into the water.  “Thought I had that one.  I’m sorry.”  A big toothed grin overtakes Marrin’s face.

	Azoric helps Zor up.  “Alright, no reason to get feisty.  So, Marrin, you and foodmart, what were you guys doing when you disappeared?   Zor and I were at practice for our band, The Purples.”

	Marrin concentrates on the water, she takes three steps to a school of fish.  She moves with grace and her feet enter the water without a ripple.  “Foodmart was about to get a stake through his heart.  He was begging for his life.  Disappearing saved him.”

	“That’s wonderful.” Zor pounds his forehead.  “We’re not in Kansas any longer.  You don’t have a heart.  Foodmart is a coward.  And our collective IQ about spear fishing is what…27?  Some yellow bricks and one of those big toothed dogs and we are gonna have ourselves a hit.”

	Marrin stabs the spear into the water so hard that it snaps.  Out of the water, speared straight through its gut, a fish flails it tail, its gills expanding like balloons, fights for his calm liquid home.   She tosses the fish onto the ground.

Duo and Punkr volunteer for the difficult task of putting logs on the fire while the others catch fish.  They sit by the fire.  It is hot and they sweat.  They don’t move from it though.  It is not the heat that keeps them by the fire.  In this strange world, it is all they understand.

	“Nothing like an evening dress with grass stains.”  Fields looks over her dress—once the rage of the fashion world—now nothing more than stitched fabric.  She wonders if anyone considers how hard it is for Raven and her to be in these clothes…in this environment.  No one brings it up.  She supposes it isn’t high on the priorities list.  “Boys—you might not believe this but this dress was going to do wonders for my career.  Those twenty-two years old darlings like Raven have been trumping me these last few years.  Can’t stay in this game forever, I guess.”  She looks around.  “What am I talking about?  I am out of the game…out of the world in which the game was played.”

	“So you guys are models?”  Duo assumes.  The way they looked when they first appeared, they couldn’t have been anything else.  His tongue almost unfolded right out of his mouth like a cartoon.  “Punkr and I were on our way to the Clone Zone.”

	“Clone Zone?  What’s that?”

	“It is a café and coffee house.  It serves the best food in Jersey.”  Punkr kicks some dust onto the fire.  He wants to be in the Zone now.  “But these jerks come everyday around lunch and destroy the place…so no one really eat there.” 

	“That’s awful,” Field replies.  Both Duo and Punkr stare like starving men at the buns of her hair…just like the Cinnabons in the mall, if only I could…  She notices their gawking, probably just the first time they’ve seen this hair cut.  “Alright, I think we’ve taken a long enough break.”  

	At her side are a pile of sticks.  She picks one up and with her other hand uses Zor’s house keys to sharpen its end.  Duo and Punkr do the same with the keys to their own houses.

	“Anyone have any ideas as to why we are here?”  They realize this is a question no one has asked.  Their minds have been repressing it.  “I want to think it was just an accident, you know?” Punkr asks.  “I keep thinking that I just did a fifteen foot ramp, fell off my board and am in a coma or something.  At least this whole thing makes sense then.”

	Duo shaves the top of his stick.  Out of the three, he has mastered this the quickest.  “This is just like a video game I played once.  This little green guy was taken to a far off world against his will…and he had to collect three pieces of something or another in order to save this world…and I don’t remember the rest.  I don’t know if that helps or anything.”

	“Did you beat the game?” Punkr asks.

	“No.”

	“It doesn’t help then.” Punkr and Fields say.

By nightfall a plan is devised.  Some members of the Fellowship are less than pleased.

	“Wait…wait…one moment,” Duo replies.  “So basically, the plan is that we let those dogs hunt us again all night.  But Marrin here, keeps behind us, when the sun begins to rise, she follows them back to wherever they go?  Not a very good plan.”

	Foodmart speaks up, if anyone is right for this job—it is Marrin.  “Marrin has been hunting for over three hundred years.  She is way better than those dogs.  She’ll stay out of sight.  The intelligence she brings will help us get far away from those beasts.”

	Azoric nods.  “Duo, no one is pleased with this plan.”  In fact, everyone is glad Duo objected to it.  “We have weapons tonight.  We are able to defend ourselves.”

	The Fellowship agrees to the plan and they enter the forest as night eclipses.  All is quiet for two hours.  Then, from a distance, a snarl.  

	“It’s show time.” Azoric lifts his spear.

	“I just realized something,” Zor replies.  “We’ve never even done one show.  What if we suck?”

	“This is not the time, Zor.”

	All of them hide behind trees and lay behind bushes and other brush.

	Foodmart’s voice comes from one of the bushes.  “I know you guys don’t have much experience killing stuff… I’ve found that going for the neck usually works pretty well.”

	“We’ll keep that in mind.”  Punkr lifts his spear.  He is not afraid—he can not explain why.  “Alright, everyone keep their eyes open.  Anyone sees anything, speak up and let the rest of us know.”

	“Kill?” Raven asks, her voice shaking.

	“Alright, remember the plan.  We take down one of them and then we run and hide.  Let them find us again.  Marrin wants to see how they hunt.  What kind of methods they use.”

	“I see one,” Duo whispers.

	About twenty yards across the woods.  Large breaths are lit by moonlight and bright yellow eyes disappear every few seconds when the creatures blinks.  They all wonder if the Morrigan has spotted them.  Could be a coincidence, he might walk by.  The Morrigan is joined by two others.  The fellowship stops readies their weapons.  

	The Morrigans step forwards.  Leafs crinkle under their paws.  Azoric looks left and then right, everyone is still in their places…except for, Punkr, where is he?  Did they get him?  He doesn’t bring this up to the Fellowship.  Their fear has already doubled from yesterday nights all-time-high.  The monsters march forward, inching their way to their prey.

	Within a minute they are twenty feet from the group.  Each wonders why they do not run in terror.  Each thinks they will pay for it with their life.

	The fainting silence breaks with a shaking in the trees.  Down falls a black figure.  It lands on the ground, sticking its spear into the Morrigan.  It howls death.  Its two mates step back before pouncing.

	“Ah!” Punkr shouts.  “Help!  Help!”

	“Its Punkr!  Let’s help him!” Zor charges from his position and kicks one of the Morrigans off Punkr before it can take a bite at the brave boy.  Zor sticks the Morrigan with his spear.  

	The third takes a stab from both Raven and Fields to down it.  Everything moves slow for them and they push down with enough force to break the skin, while thinking, why can’t I push down harder?  The Morrigan jumps to its feet and the women realize they will die—survival takes precedence and they plunge the stakes into the Morrigan, displaying strength they didn’t know of.

	“Are you okay Punkr?” Raven asks.

	“I’m fine.  Guess I should have thought that out more, huh?” He rips his spear from the dead Morrigan. 

	“Or at least told us you were going to do it,” Duo adds.

	“Shhhhh!  There are more of them,” Azoric whispers.  Any feelings of relief or triumph flee.  The makeshift battle group gather their weapons and stand behind Azoric at one of the largest trees. 

	“Where are they?” foodmart whispers.

	“There,” Azoric points.

	“Where?”

	“There.” Azoric grunts.

	“Where?”

	“There!” All of them shout and point.

	The entire group of Morrigans turn their heads and charge.

	“Sorry.  Sorry.  Sorry,” foodmart cries while running away from the dogs.

	Up in the trees, not far away, Marrin shakes her head back and forth.  “I swear, that vampire.”

Continued in Chapter 2!