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| Ch. 1 Once upon a time�no wait, that�s hokey. Time is a bitch. There we go. Time is a bitch. You never have enough, and even when you do, you don�t want it. Time passes whether we want it to or not. It leaves us old, white hair falling out, skin and organs rotting away. The time we have we don�t appreciate. We can never appreciate time. It doesn�t let us. This story isn�t really about time. It�s about a girl. Like most stories, it has a beginning and an end, tragedy, hope, happiness, and a little more tragedy. But this isn�t your typical �girl-loves-boy-boy-breaks-girl�s-heart� story. This is my story. And I�m different. I�ll begin with�well, the beginning. I was born in a small cabin in the mountains. I remember growing up with year-round winter, the trees beautifully bare, only the smallest number of animals venturing out to find food. I remember going to sleep straining to hear the sound of snowflakes hitting the ground, but never being able to. I remember hunting with my father, skinning the animals we killed so we could use their fur for warmth and their meat for food. And I remember the happiness I felt, living in a cozy cottage with my mother and father, unaware of the horrors that lay ahead. I don�t know what month it was that they came; we didn�t keep track of the months. I know it was a little before my twelfth birthday, when the snow was beginning to get heavier and we were storing food for the days when we would be unable to hunt. I was out hunting alone, for I was now old enough to go by myself. I was proud of my kills; I had enough for my family to survive a long time. Walking back to the cottage, I heard the noises in the woods. I crouched down quickly, thinking it was another animal that I could kill and skin. Quietly I crept through the frozen bushes, careful not to scare the poor creature. I soon came into view of a group of men, sitting around a poorly made fire. They were eating and unidentifiable meat and talking loudly, clearly drunk. As I crept closer, I began to catch parts of their conversation. My eyes grew wide as I understood who and what they were talking about. The snow chose that moment to start falling. It came in heavy flakes, obscuring my vision and covering the ground. I became frantic, running blindly through it to reach my parents. I didn�t see the tree root sticking up out of the ground before my ankle caught and I tumbled headfirst into the snow. I ignored the pain shooting up and down my leg and ran on, determined to take care of it later, when I was warm and safe with my family. Finally, out of sheer luck, I reached our cabin. Or what our cabin used to be. The cozy little place I grew up in was now a charred shell of wood and rope. I could still see the door frame, and the chairs. I could still see the frame of my bed, pushed into the corner because I was afraid of monsters coming in through the window or the door. I wanted to be ready to fight them off. I wasn�t ready when the real monsters came. The men left footprints all around the cabin, their boots leaving a distinct impression in the snow. We all knew the pattern that I saw now; it was the mark of Amona, Queen of the Mountains. She had her mark engraved into each soldier�s boot so her enemies would know who had slain their men�or their families. Toward the back of the cabin, the back door lay butchered on its hinges in the snow. I followed the soldiers� footprints into the woods in hope that maybe my parents had escaped. I had explored every inch of those woods, hunting and tracking as my father had taught me. I used those skills now, tracking the soldiers� path, an easy game as they left branches broken and a visible trail in the snow. I quickly came upon a clearing, one where many an animal was hunted and killed. The snow had covered everything, leaving only white shapes on the ground and burying the footsteps. I uncovered the shapes nearest to me, my heart stopping each time my hand uncovered something, and restarting when the object was a log or rock. Just as my hope was rising that my parents had indeed escaped into the forest, my foot hit something hard sticking out of the snow. I squatted down to get a closer look and immediately recognized my father�s boot. A sob escaped me as I dug into the snow, ignoring the frostbite that threatened my hands, and the cold seeping into my clothes. They had cut his throat, the cold only giving him a few minutes before he choked on his own blood. Tears ran down my face freezing on my cheeks, making them itch. When he was completely uncovered, I held his head in my lap willing him to wake up. I punched him, I shook him, but nothing worked. Finally I gave up and just cried. When I couldn�t cry anymore, I stood. I searched the rest of the clearing, and the clearings around it, but I didn�t find my mother. My hope rose again that perhaps she had escaped or been taken hostage. I vowed to get her back any way I could. Even if it meant killing Amona herself. Ch. 2 I buried my father underneath the ashes of our former home, promising to carve a headstone so he could rest in peace. On his gravesite I placed a charm bracelet I had made when I was younger. I gathered up what money and food I had And as I walked away from the place where I grew up, I wondered what I would do next. I didn�t have a plan, so I just kept walking. I walked all the way to the next town, a place called Bramber. Bramber was a town where the people were more interested in making money than helping each other. They were thieves, crooks, and all around bad people. No women dared to stay in town for too long, for they would find themselves raped and beaten by the local townsmen. It was the worst place I could go. But it was the only place I could go. And it was the only place where I would learn anything. I walked into a tavern, the red-faced men looking me up and down as I sat down at an empty table. I ordered the house beer and looked around to see who the trouble makers were. I didn�t have to look far, an ambitious young man sitting himself down in front of me. �You can stop looking, sweetheart, I�m right here.� He said, licking his lips and staring straight down at my breasts. I checked him out carefully. He had a sword on his back, and some sort of dagger tucked into his pants. By the way he was looking at me, he had drunk enough alcohol to not remember what he was doing. I leaned over, crossing my arms under my breasts to push them up. �Really?� I said. �Well that�s good because I was looking for a good time.� His eyes went wide as I spoke, clearly surprised. �Meet me upstairs?� I whispered to him, low enough so just he could hear. He nodded vigorously, and I got up to go upstairs. �Wait.� He said. �What�s your name?� I turned slowly, hesitating. �Andrea.� I said. My new name. I liked it. I turned back to the stairs, and walked the long flight up. I readied the room for my purposes, then removed my clothes and waited. He entered the room loudly, stumbling against the door frame and almost falling into the room. As he reached the bed and saw me, he fell forward, almost knocking me off. He scrambled over to me, his hands exploring my body roughly. I removed his clothing quickly, making sure I knew where I placed every article. I pinned him down, and slide onto him, making him groan. I ignored the sharp pain that ripped through me and the blood that ensued; I moved against him harder and faster until he climaxed. Within minutes he fell into a deep sleep, sure to awaken the next day with a sore body and a painful head. I listened to his breathing until I was sure he was asleep, then I got up slowly and quietly. I located everything I needed with ease, strapping the sword and its sheath onto my back, pocketing the dagger, and swiping all the money he had, which was a pitiful amount. I would have to hunt for my own food, and hitch rides to where I wanted to go. | ||