And she is out there, alone.
For a moment, I consider that this is the worst possible fate, but no it cannot be because we still have a chance. While I live,I will try. I choose to believe there will come a day when we are together again.
I send a little prayer to my friend, my sister.Please be okay. Please continue fighting. I am alive; I am fighting.
My mother once told me what fighting really means.Even as a child, I was smaller than most and not brave enough to defend myself against bullies. I also knew the beasts of the forest could take me with little resistance. I was helpless.
But she told me that I did not need my fists; my spirit was all that was ever needed to fight. Fighting is about resistance. It is about bravery. It is about mental fortitude.
I throw the furs from my body, as if they were the demons themselves, luring me into a trap.
There are books in the corner of the room, and since I’m left with time I don’t know how to fill without pacing and freezing my toes off, I grab one and settle back down in the warm furs.
If they’re part of my torment, so be it.
The book has a brown leather cover with no discernible title. The words are handwritten.
The first page says: Drakai for the Ages.
For a moment, I think I’ve found a research tome on the reptilian creatures of the Drak’yn, but as I begin reading, I quickly realize the story is fictional. It stars a princess of a kingdom I’ve never heard of, whose mother forces her to marry a faraway prince.
He is beautiful and rich and altogether too good to be true.
She marries him and is left to live in a foreign land. I am only a small portion into the story when there is a knock on my door.
I flinch and immediately hide the book under the blankets. Fear pulses through my veins, ripping me from the story world and into reality.
I want to crawl back into my corner and cower like a child.
The lock jingles before the door swings open, and instead of my Dread, I find a woman. She is near my age—young, but with mature enough features not to be mistaken for a child. She wears an embroidered, long sleeve gown, and her hair is smooth brown twisted into braids.
“Greetings, new Drahkita!”
I grimace at the word. I’ve never heard it before, but it’s similar enough to their words for their lizard creatures that I am immediately disgusted.
The woman wrinkles her nose and eyes me. Her crumpled face twists into a sad, forced smile. I am disgusted by them, and she is disgusted by me.
“You are hungry, yes?”
I press my lips together. I’m starving—literally—but what kind of food are they going to serve me here? Uncooked meat? Blood? Bones?
Or maybe more crackers. Those weren’t so bad.
“Come, come. Your Drak has hired me to show you our way. It is good work, and I intend to make him proud.” She claps her hands and throws her arms wide.
The disgust is wiped from her face, and now I find only sincere excitement. On her wrist is a small threaded band with a golden charm.
“Come, come! I will get you food and water. New clothes and a bath. You will feel much better once you’re in a better condition. I promise.”
I don’t move, and the woman clicks her tongue. “Lovely girl, you must move or you will be stuck in this little dwelling for days. You do not want this. Our way is nicer than you have come to believe. Come see for yourself.”
She is right that I don’t want to be trapped in this room for days, especially considering my only chance at true escape is out there. I must learn more about this place.
Hope lives in information.
I sigh and again force myself from the bed and onto the stone floor.
“You have no shoes?” she asks with a tilt of her head. “Is that your way?”
