Price for a Memory

This is just something that came to mind last night while I was trying to get Chapter 14 of Bond of the Red Wolf written ((it just would not leave me alone until I gave in and wrote it down...))


~FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO READ THIS AND WONDER WHY IT IS IN THE SLASH SECTION OF ALL PLACES... WELL, THATS TO BE REVEALED LATER! ((if this goes past more then just one chapter, which I hope it does!))~


I would really like your comments...

Depending on how well this is received I may or may not add more until I have at least got the first part of Red Wolf compleated.


~~Price of a Memory~~


My frost-bitten feet were decorated with cuts and bruises thanks to the ice-covered stone streets. My breath froze before my eyes and my long white hair hung in heavy locks that resembled icicles. The driving snow and bitter wind stung my skin and froze me to my core.

As I ran, I dug my nails into my palms until blood flowed red and warm to drip onto the white snow. At least the pain told me that this was all real and not a nightmare as I had hoped.

When I had woken up, lying on that street covered in a blanket of snow, I had thought for a moment that I was still asleep. But I soon found out that it was all too real.

Glancing over my shoulder I spotted the three men who had found me walking in the darkness what seemed like hours ago. They had appeared from nowhere and seeing me alone, they had approached.

They spoke in a dialect I did not understand and that frightened me more then anything else for some reason. They wore all black and as they jogged after me, the long coats they wore billowed out behind them like wings.

I was almost sure I had been in a situation like this before, but I could not remember. I could not remember anything from before; there was nothing there but shadows and mist.

Ducking around the side of a building I paused to catch my breath.

My back was in agony, blood had been running down it ever since I had felt it tear when I vaulted a wall trying to escape. The blood loss was finally beginning to make me feel light headed and combined with the untold hours of exposure I was beginning to think I might actually die.

The back of my silky top was glued to my skin because of the blood and reaching my hand up I could feel some of the tears, but it hurt too much to do it for too long.

A face, misty and far away floated before my eyes and a voice whispered in a dialect I did recognise: “…I will always find you… because you were born to be mine…” The tone of the voice held nothing but malice and made me shiver in fear; I hoped never to meet its owner.

I was too cold and far too exhausted to run any further but the last thing I wanted was to be captured again.

I could almost feel the chains at my throat and wrists again. The metal seemed to burn against my sensitive skin, forever branding me a slave.

My numb arm rose to eye level. I could see my blue frozen hand with the nail marks etched into the flesh of the palm. The veins at my wrist wove an intricate web under the pale skin, but there was no think cuff. Only a delicate silver bracelet studded with violet stones.

Violet...the same colour as my eyes I recalled with a fleeting smile.

Carefully I touched my throat where I knew the collar would sit, but again nothing. No collar, no cuffs, no blaringly obvious symbol of ownership...

My knees started to give beneath me and I fought to remain standing. But it was too late to run now, my body trembled, what little of it that still had feeling screamed in silent agony and then my vision swam white. As I fell against the frozen stone, blood streaming down my sides I heard a yell; the men had found me.

~~~~~

I blinked, but when I opened my eyes again one of them had me propped up on their lap, I could feel the warmth of his body but it was fleeting. I was so cold I could barely think straight.

Letting my head fall back I watched the falling snow and waited; death was defiantly taking his time getting to me, maybe I wasn’t that important to him either.

Calmly I closed my eyes and began to slip into that deep abyss I could feel calling me; at least it was warmer there.

Subconsciously I realised that I could feel most of my body again, not that there was much to feel; muscles loosened, but my limbs still twitched and shook. It was all beyond my control, but in a couple of minutes it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Pain was what woke me up; it was a bright shattering pain that tore a scream from me.

The man I was propped against must have noticed me giving up; my small, thin hand was held in his large, strong one and he was almost crushing it. The delicate bones ground together until I tried to pull away. This movement seemed to satisfy him because he pulled me closer and wrapped his coat more firmly around me.

He was speaking to me in that strange dialect I didn’t know, the words didn’t matter though, he was trying to keep me awake I realised and it was working.

My mind was spinning and could feel a headache building up behind my eyes.

Running footsteps brought my attention back to that snow covered street.

My eyes felt heavy, but I managed to keep them open. Several figures were approaching at a run, the two from before, but the pair with them were dressed in the oddest clothing I had ever seen. All green, with strips of a cloth that reflected the light shining from strange metal clubs they carried.

When they reached us, I had to close my eyes against the bright glare. A moment later they were forced open and another light made me blink rapidly. A nod told me that they liked whatever response they had seen and they turned the beam of light onto my frozen body.

I blinked slowly as I watched them check me over like I was a horse for sale; their actions bothered me slightly, could they be slave trades. If they were I didn’t really care at that moment.

Carefully I was pulled away from my guardian and wrapped in a heavy blanket that smelt unlike anything I’d ever smelt before, but there was something about that musty scent that struck a cord in my mind. There was a slightly sweet smell to it, a coppery scent I could almost taste. It was like the scent that clung to my hands, that almost sweet smell that had woken me hours before.

I couldn’t concentrate anymore, I was so tired, so cold, I had reached my limit and then some and now, all I now wanted was to sleep.

The last thing I saw that dark winter night was the stars of a foreign sky and the worried faces of strangers and then there was nothing…


~~Fieldtrips Suck…~~


The rain was turning into hail, the ground was wet and slippery, I was soaked to the bone and my shoulders were on fire with the weight of the backpack I was carrying. All in all, it had been a really crappy day.

I suppose that it really didn't help that I was slightly hungover or that I'd had less then three hours sleep either.

They had told us to pack 'lightly' but please, in a class mostly made up of girls, they would’ve had better luck telling us not to pack anything pink!

As it was, most of the girls had packed those suitcases with wheels and were by now really regretting the choice.

We had also discovered that we had to camp out for a couple of days ((the amount of shocked expressions during that announcement had made me have hysterics.)). So we had our clothing as well as our art stuff to carry. I was just glad nobody had thought to try and take their A1 folio with them, in this wind they would’ve got free flying lessons and it was a long drop to the valley floor.

Gritting my teeth I leapt up onto a rocky outcrop and sighed as the longer locks of my otherwise short and messy white hair blew into my violet eyes blinding me for a moment.

This was the very last time I was going to allow myself to be suckered into anything and I mean anything at all.

I’d know from the beginning that this trip would be nothing but a hassle, but Kaz had said please… and I couldn’t leave her to the blood thirsty sharks in our class.

It really wasn’t my fault the rest of the class thought she was nuts - she kinda is - but that’s not the point. She was very much into that new age stuff; you know crystal healing and all that junk… it takes all types I guess.

I’m also guessing that’s why she had thought a trip to this cave would be interesting… But then her idea of interesting was to spend a day in the Duthie Park Winter Gardens communing with the plants and flowers on a ‘spiritual level’.

The cave we were going to had been all over the news for about a week or so. A couple of ramblers had been making their way up some remote god-forsaken mountain ((as in, you either had to walk for six hours (as we were being forced to) or fly in by helicopter)) when much to their surprise the earth had given way beneath them.

Annoyingly enough the pair had been on their honeymoon and actually told the press that the earth moved in more then just one way for them…

Anyway, when they finally came round and the dust had settled they found themselves sitting in a huge, formally closed off cave.

Thankfully these people had obviously watched those dumb horror movies set in weird cave-in situations and instead of wondering off to explore and probably meet a grizzly end thanks to some freakish subterranean rat people, they had phoned mountain rescue.

Thank god and technology for the wonderful gift that is the cell phone!

Within hours the discovery was on the six ‘o’ clock news and an army of hippies and new-age nuts were camped out on the mountain side much to the chagrin of mountain rescue.

That was about a month ago.

The team that was sent in to examine the find obviously found something interesting because within a day of the cave-in it was all fenced off and that’s when Kaz came in.

Her uncle was head of the site. So she phoned him and he pulled a couple of strings and we got an invite to draw and catalogue some of the site. I guess it might look good on my resume…

Pausing for a moment on another rocky outcrop I adjusted my bag straps and turned to watch the loose chain of figures walking up the path.

I couldn’t help but smile when I saw that Samantha was right at the end. Hopefully she’ll just drop dead when we get to the site. I didn’t think I could stand another night of her constant whining.

I’d been seriously tempted to strangle her last night when she came into the small inn’s common room and complained to the cute guy behind the bar - who’s name was Mitchell we discovered - that she couldn’t get her hair dryer plug to fit into the socket upstairs.

Mitchell smiled and went with her to discover the problem and then came back five minutes later looking kinda peeved. It took John less then fifteen seconds and the promise of a drink with his ’lovely female friends’ to get the story out of him - she’d been trying to plug it in upside down.

Why did that really not surprise any of us?

After he had pointed that out to her she’d gone into cute-little-girl mode and pretty much tried to jump his bones. I suppose she came on a bit too strong or something because he really hadn’t appreciated it at all.

That much we knew for sure after the third or forth shot we bought him. I suppose you’re not meant to get the bartender tipsy if he’s working, but there was just the eight of us staying in the inn and only the three of us were still up.

We did finally get to bed… but only an hour or two before we had to get up again.

~~~~~

The first thing we saw when we got to the site twenty minutes later, was a tall metal fence with masses of yellow tape with the word: PROHIBITED repeated on it.

Then we got yelled at.

It was kinda funny really, this tubby little guy in a security guard outfit came jogging out of this little hut and began to yell about stupid hippies and their bloody cults that wanted to protect the site from the corrupted government.

Personally I don’t like being called a hippy, but most of us looked like art students were suppose to look, you know cast off or homemade clothing or store bought stuff that had been modified beyond recognition.

Well except for Samantha with her Prada, but the rest of us looked the part of poor art students.

Even our tutor, but Jonathan was one of those really rare, but cool adults that seemed to live by the term “act you shoe size”.

Oddly enough it was Kaz who saved us from standing out in the rain for another hour or so. I don’t think I could remember the last time I saw her loose her cool, but when she does it’s really, really scary.

It’s like a cute fluffy bunny-rabbit turning into Godzilla in a Tokyo stomping mood.

To be honest I was standing near the back of the group so I didn’t see most of it, but I’m betting Mitchell heard her back at the inn.

“Who the hell are you calling a hippy you porky-assed bastard!”

Did I mention that Kaz really hated being lumped in with the new-age nuts and hippies, even though I’m pretty sure she is one. Anytime she gets called one, even indirectly she tends to go ballistic.

I was close enough to see the guy’s face when Kaz yelled at him; it was like watching traffic lights, but faster. White, pink, scarlet and then purple!

Its not often you see somebody turn purple!

Then he did that whole spluttering thing and began to yell back at her, but he was so angry that most of the words were lost in the general roar.

Truthfully I love a good fight…hell, I’m usually the one who starts them and Kaz normally ends up dragging me away from the poor sod who incurred my wrath!

So getting a rare chance to watch her obliterate someone was worth just standing to the side and smiling about. Sadly, it seems that the gods of peace and love and hippyness ((is that even a word?)) were against me.

I’m sure the yelling would have finally turned to blows but several people came running out of a large port-a-cabin and made a fast bee-line towards us.

~~~~~

Comments, criticism and ideas are all welcome and will be rewarded with more chapters ((if you so wish it)) all I ask in return is that you review!
Thank You!