Miss-Taken Identity

    She woke up with a start at the sounds of iron bars slamming shut. Looking around, alarmed, she sighs. The stench of mildew and rotting things best left unseen stings her sensitive nose. Still here? Why was she still here? She'd hoped if she went to sleep she'd wake up somewhere else, that it was all a nightmare. She swore to all that was holy that she was supposed to be somewhere else. No luck, no luck at all. Shoving herself up to a seated position she scowls with a wrinkled nose at the moldy hay beneath her hands. Hands with cracked skin on her knuckles, nails chipped and torn in places with dirt beneath them. She hated being dirty... Who didn't? She shoved tangled and grimy feeling hair out of her face. Her once pretty long black hair, that hung to the small of her back, was tangled with bits of hay and who knew what else. It felt like she hadn't washed it in a week of Sundays. She hated being grimy... Who wouldn't? She could feel the smudges of dirt on her face, the hidden salty tracks of dried on tears she hadn't let anyone witness. Show no fear. She hated fear... Who didn't? Pulling the sleeves of a now stained, cream colored, knit sweater over her fingertips she pulled her bare legs and feet up under an equally stained and torn fancy looking skirt and yanked the hem of the sweater down over her legs to regain some lost heat. One foot atop the other she curled her toes against her own skin and scowled at the stone walls. It was so damp and chill in this cell of hers. A cell she didn't remember being thrown into, though she had the fading bruises to prove she HAD been thrown. The sweater was too big, thankfully, and covered a slightly fancy, once light pink, dress of fine linen under layer and lace over layer. She couldn't for the life of her figure out WHY she'd been wearing it in the first place. She hated dresses... Why would she? She knew she hated dresses, hated being dirty, hated being cold and hated being here. She hated being hungry... Who didn't? The kind of hunger that made you about as bad tempered and growly as your stomach was. She knew so much about what she hated, but not why. She liked.... She liked the smell of roses. The memory of the smell of fresh baked bread made her eyes drift closed and her mouth water. She liked music, and dancing, but why? So many things she knew, all but the most important facts. Facts like who she was, where she was, and how in the many hells did she get here?? She reached up and gingerly touched the half healed gash just above her temple, just inside her hair line, that had been almost two inches long when she first discovered it. Judging by how far it had healed, without proper medication, with the constant risk of infection she had to sleep in, she figured she had been here a while. Way too long in her estimation. Hopping up on grimy bare feet she started pacing her small cell, working up more heat now that she'd warmed the chill out of her joints. She was a modest average height, thankfully, because if she'd been tall like her brother, she'd be ducking constantly in this cell and would have gone crazy from the cramped size. Wait, brother? She froze mid-step and squeezed her eyes shut. A brother... She had a brother somewhere. Older? Younger? Twin? The memories slipped away like slimy eels and she stomps a foot petulantly. Thankfully, it seemed as if the soles of her feet were slightly toughened, as if she tended to walk barefoot a lot on something rougher than carpeting. Her hands as well had callouses in various places. She couldn't quite figure out what activities would cause those callouses, but settled on just the fact that she had been very active in her missing life. The sound of footsteps out in the hall shake her out of her musings and she tilts her head. It felt like it should be about meal time. She both dreaded and looked forward to meals. It was food, even if it was the stale greasy leftovers of someone else's meals. The guy in the next cell had died the day before from an awful rattling cough, and left her alone in this tower of hell. But that meant she got all the left overs instead of having to split it with him. She felt horrible for being glad he was gone, but he really had been in poor health, and hadn't spoken a word since she'd woken up here. The steps grew closer and she waited, poised, a few feet from the door, waiting. When the guard stopped outside her door she rushed it, grabbing the bars and baring her teeth, growling loudly like a mad dog. She screamed incoherently at him and shook the bars, her wild hair flying around her head. Her green eyes sparkled with madness, something she'd perfected over the last few days. Make them think she was insane, that she didn't speak at all, was a better alternative. They left her alone more often. Growling like a crazed dog at the guard in medieval clothing and leather armor, she rattled the iron bar door again. He scowled at her, "Back off, demon! You back off or you get no food! Why my Lord keeps you I'll never know." She slowly backed up, head held low, glaring green emerald eyes sparked with madness from behind the curtain of grimy, messy hair. She waited until he gingerly shoved the tray into her cell beneath the door's bottom rung. Just as his fingers left the tray, while he was still bent over, she howled like a demented wolf and charged the door again, an arm slipping between the bars to tangle fingers in his hair. Gripping with all her strength she hauled back with her full body, going backward onto her rump. She yanked with weeks of desperation and fear and his unprotected head slammed into the bars with a crack, his eyes rolling back in his head he fell to the floor, out cold. For half a stunned moment she sat there with wide eyes. Then she skittered into motion. She strained through the bars, unable to reach the keys on his belt. Then she started grabbing at his clothing and yanking him closer until she could snag the keys and leapt to her feet. She started testing key after key until she found the right one. Pulling the door open she looked down at the food and grabbed the tray. Setting it on the ground next to her she stuffed a few bites of bread in her mouth and dropped to a seat beside the guard's body. She started yanking at his boots, hoping they might fit. They were above his calf and laced. Desperately she started unlacing them, alternately stuffing food in her mouth. Finally the boots came loose and she yanked them on over her feet. DAMN, slightly too big, but oh well, they'll flop a bit. Better than too small! She started lacing them up tight. She finished off the last of the food even as the guard started to moan, signalling he may wake up soon. She grabbed the metal tray and bashed it two handed onto his head, silencing him, before shoving him into her cell. Realizing she had no clue what the weather was, other than COLD, she grabbed his cloak and unpinned it from his shoulder, throwing it around her shoulders and wrinkling her nose at the smell. Did NO ONE bathe here? She used the keys and locked the cell door, slipping the large ring over her wrist to make sure she didn't drop them she took off down the hallway. Reaching the door everyone always came in through, she suddenly hesitated. She had NO clue where the hell she was! Oh well, time to trust her luck again! She opens the door carefully and peers out onto the landing that led down the tower stairs, listening carefully, before beginning her descent into a castle of unknown size and numbers of enemies, sending a prayer up to any Power that might hear her that she'd make it out of here alive. ********************************* Whispers - Scaudry There was a whisper of sound, though not really a sound. It was a whisper of a feather light touch on his mind behind his eyes. His glowing green orbs open and blink sleepily. They were the size of two men's fists put together, housed in a long narrow head with eyebrow ridges that were expressive in their mobility. The brow ridges ran back along the top of his head to blend into harder horns that extended nearly straight back along his neck when it was stretched out at rest. As he lifted his head, Scaudry's neck bent back and down, leaving the horns standing feet long into the air behind his head. Along his jaw line and up behind his eyes he had a fringe of pseudo spikes which flexed slightly out away from his head and back again, protecting sensitive ear membranes behind them. The line of long slim spikes that extended along his spine from the base of his skull nearly to his shoulder blades started feet long and hard behind Scaudry's skull to inches in height and flexible where his neck joined his body. Large nostrils flared as he woke, mentally seeking out the whisper of a feather touch on his mind even as it faded. It had the flavor of desperation, fear, and a large healthy dose of bravery. His nostrils wrinkled slightly up and back, the hardened beak point of his muzzle clacked slightly against his bottom jaw as Scaudry opened and closed his long maw, slender tongue moving about inside his muzzle to clear the sleep out of his mouth. A huge yawn was followed by a hefty shake of his head which rattled the metal collar fastened almost too tightly midway along his neck. The chain dangling from the collar was thick and heavy, denying his sharp claws the chance to break the links. Scaudry growled low and deep in his chest at the reminder of his own captivity. The collar was inscribed with faintly glowing runes, the spells making his scales itch. The locks on the collar were actually quite simple, but very small, too small for his large claws to manipulate. His eyes glowed with green fire as his anger at his captivity was renewed, the feather light touch on his mind forgotten, for now, as he shifted around in his cave. **************** Ahmya Running, hiding, running some more. The next few hours, or was it only minutes? She moved with quiet desperation down the stairs to the next level then down hallways trying to find some clue as to how to get out, and maybe a clue as to where she was! Near the end of a hall she had just checked an empty bedroom with a glance and heard the alarming sound of shouts from the stairs. Ducking into the bedroom that smelled slightly of dust and disuse she looked around frantically. Spying a window she threw open the thick heavy curtains to find a window large enough for her to stand up in. Yanking the windows open she's slammed with a gust of cold, wet air. It was raining. Not just raining, but storming something fierce. Chilly air that smelled of the sea slapped at her face as she stuck her head out. Oh Lordy Almighty! She was up high! There was a cliff extending down and outward below a many storied castle wall. She could hear waves in the distance crashing against a shore, but it was too dark and stormy to see where the beach was. Turning to look back toward the door she heard the stomp of booted feet getting closer. Looking out the window again she sees a nice wide ledge beneath the window that extended left and right from her window to other windows in the wall. Like the window she could see to the left that was past the end of her hallway. But what about the wind? It was yanking at her already sodden hair and slapping it into her face like an octopus on crack. However, the sounds of pursuit were getting closer! With another prayer to any Powers that might be listening, she hoists herself up onto the ledge, grabs the side window sill, and swings outside to press her back to the wall. The wind yanked at the stolen cloak and almost ended her escape right then. Stifling a shriek she pulled herself back to the window frame and hastily knotted the ends of the cloak around her middle, then turned to sidle along the ledge, nose and knees scraping against the rocks of the wall. Please Gods, whoever they were, don't let her fall! ************************************ Scaudry Scaudry's restless pacing was interrupted by another brush at the back of his mind. It was stronger than before, maybe closer? He tilted his large, green scaled head and opened his mind's shields a bit wider, only to be slammed with a sudden shriek of fear and terror that drowned out the bravery he'd felt before. It was a human! A human that was apparently in some sort of danger. He strengthened his mind's filters to get rid of extraneous mental noises and focused on... Her. It was a female human, and she was terrified of... Falling? Scaudry closed his eyes and tightened his focus. Cold, wet, wind, rain, and terror were the predominant sensations. He clenched his claws with effort and tossed out a blanketing thought over hers. STOP! BREATH! MOVE forward! Then with an explosion of held breath liberally laced with sulfurous smoke he released the female mind and flopped to his chest on the stone of his cave. That took a lot more effort than he liked, but he hadn't been able to touch any mind in ages. This was a rare occurrence. Scaudry relaxed into a doze and idly hoped the human female was able to move out of immediate danger. ****************************** Meeting Destiny Ahmya Clinging to the ledge, she was in imminent danger of being blasted off by the wind and rain. The stones were slick beneath her ill fitting boots and palms plastered against the wall at her back. Just after her tossed out prayer a bad gust nearly plucked her from the ledge, flooding her mind with numbing terror. Then, something amazing happened. A bellow of a voice, her own? Someone else's? Broke through the stony panic and yelled, STOP! She froze every shivering muscle and held her breath in shock. BREATH! She hauled in a gusty gasp of wet air and blew it out in an explosion before inhaling again. MOVE forward! Like a suddenly obedient soldier she started creeping quickly along the ledge. The heavy handed thoughts disappeared, but they had done the job. She reached the other window, kicking it open with a foot before diving into a very dusty room and rolling across the floor in her soaked dress, sweater, and knotted cloak. She came to rest on her back, panting like she'd just had a long sparring session in class.... the sudden thought shimmered as a memory of a sensation for half a moment, then disappeared as she scrambled to her feet. Hands getting muddy with dust and clothing liberally smeared with powder and mud of a long disused room. She vainly tried to swipe some off and only made it worse. With an exhausted huff of annoyance she strode toward the door of the empty room, wet skirt slapping around her calves, and prayed it wasn't locked. The room was echoingly empty. A forgotten room. She pushed the door open and winced at the sound of rusty hinges. This castle was so big, why would this be so unused? Out in the hallway she looked to the left and realized, the dead end hallway hadn't always been the end of the hall. The other side looked like a finished wall, while this side had plaster blobs and gaps of a hastily built structure. Looking down the other direction she realized she could still see dimly. In a walled off dead end hall, wouldn't it be pitch dark without light from the windows? She looked at the ceiling and realized the bricks above her head glowed just faintly enough the hall was lit like a night with a full moon. Well....COOL! Ok, after the panic she was feeling the need to notice other things to make herself feel a bit better. Idly wondering what kind of technology was inside those stones to make them glow, she headed off down the short hallway. At the end was another ill fitting old door to a very narrow stairwell. Maybe a servants stairs? The treads had a well worn shallow hollow near the center of each one, probably from centuries of feet carrying loads up and down them. Starting down the stairs at a slow trot she tries to strain her ears for the sounds of foot steps and doesn't hear anything but her own pounding heart and fast breathing. She wasn't sure how long she'd come down the stairs. She had checked two other doorways at landings, presumably two floors below the one her cell had been on, and found similar walled off situations. She didn't even check any rooms, figuring they wouldn't lead anywhere. Finally she reached the bottom of the stairs where a much heavier door was almost too tightly fit into the doorway. It was locked.... Oh no.... Oh, wait! The ring of keys! She drags the sleeve of her sweater up and pulls the ring of keys off her wrist, starting at one end she fits keys into the hole and eventually.... Eureka! The correct key presented itself. She sent a silent thank you to her angel of luck and slipped the keys back onto her wrist and slowly slipped open the door to peer with one eye through the crack. The hall outside was double lit, with small torches that were nearly smokeless and the lit ceiling stones she was already used to. The end of the hall was a T junction. Slipping out of the doorway she slipped it closed again and padded toward the intersection. Sticking to one side she peeked around the corner to the left. She could see even brighter lights reflecting at the end where the hall jinked off to the right, and hear voices. She couldn't quite catch what they were saying until they approached the bend. Something about searching everywhere, including the abandoned wing. Flickering light of hand carried torches grew brighter at the bend and she quickly turned the other way. There was a door of very old wood, bound with some rust free metal with emblems she had no clue of the meaning of etched into the metal. She rushed toward it, searching the keys for one that looked the right size and shoved it into the keyhole. She ignored the brief flash of light inside the lock. She was in too much of a hurry to care. Grabbing the large handle she hauled the door open and slipped inside, turning, she locked the door behind her and rushed into.... Blackness. Oh Lordy! It was dark as a pit in there! Her nose picked up a slightly musty smell combined with what she swore was sulfur mixed with a huge dose of dog breath, of all things. Really? Dog breath?? Oh Lord, she hoped she hadn't just walked into the den full of hunting dogs for the estate. That could be bad, very bad. At least she had a lot of experience with dogs... She did? Squeezing her eyes shut she mentally grasped at the thread of memory then growls under her breath as it slips away. Hearing footsteps and voices outside the door through the open viewing grate she plasters herself against one wall and slowly backs up. Making the mistake of not looking behind her as she backed away, she stumbles slightly over something and almost squeaked in alarm but covered her mouth quickly. Last she knew, the area was so dark behind her it didn't matter if she was looking. Whipping her head around she saw a glowing green orb almost the size of her whole face hovering seemingly in midair a few feet from her. Green flames idly flickered deep in the lit gemstone, almost mesmerizing, until it got closer with a deep rumbling, burbling, growl. A hard green muzzle entered the faint glow from the door grate, one with a maw big enough to bite her head off. Without thinking her hand came up and SMACK! on the end of the muzzle with a fierce whisper, "Shut up! I am NOT letting you get me caught! I am NOT going back into that damn cell!" Her voice was a quiet growl of her own. Her own green eyes blazed with determination, before she whipped her gaze back toward the door and plastered her still damp back against the wall, staring at the light from the hall, listening fiercely now that the.... Oh Lord.... No way... dragon? Was quiet... She wasn't going to think about it. She put it right out of her mind with steely determination. If it hadn't eaten her already, maybe, with her angel of luck still riding her shoulder, it wouldn't eat her at all. Maybe. She hated maybes... Didn't everyone?