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Ever since I was a little kid, I've loved the rain. I've always felt like rain gives the world a nice warm bath, it makes everything all new and fresh, it washes away the dirt, the grime, and the unpleasantness. I love the smell right after; it's just so sweet. I've always figured that if it had a taste it'd probably taste somewhat like a fruit smoothie with a touch of peppermint. Crisp, fresh, pure. Yum! Because of this mass love of the rain, I've always ran outside, sometimes to jump in puddles and be silly, or just to hold still and listen to the soft rhythms the pitter-patters of the droplets create on the thirsty Earth's surface. The rain - so calm, so soothing, so the entire reason my life is anything but usual.
Yep. This is one of those stories.
Now-- because I do love the rain so much, and I do not exaggerate when I say I always ran out to enjoy it, one fine afternoon, a little after a sandwich from the local Delyani's even, I was out in the middle of a thunderstorm. What can I say? Lightning always sparks my imagination, and my imagination is my escape from anything and everything negative on Earth.
Anyway, this thunderstorm was one of those mini-hurricane type things that we got about once every five years back in Rancho Cordova, it was the sort that sometimes caused the power lines to crash, fences to blow over, and flags to be whipped around so furiously they could actually be considered whips. Intense.
I ventured out to the middle of my lawn, on to the weird power box thing that had been there ever since me, my Mom, and my little brother had moved in. Once I was settled and comfortable, which took a second because I had to adjust to the little rivets that lined the box, I just closed my eyes and floated away, away to my own world. I didn't care that my butt was sopping wet or if I caught a cold. My usual resentment toward wet denim was quelled by my imagination. I'd say I've always been a day dreamer, and at that moment in time, I had soon become so enveloped in my own thoughts that I'm sure I was in some sort of a trance. I was away-- floating-- in clouds, space, or something. I don't even know what I think about half the time. It's just beautiful, fantastic, and much better than the usual world.
Of course, because I was in a nearest state I had ever been to Nirvana, the world, pretty literally, had to come crashing down on me.
Literally.
So, I kind of forgot to mention that sometimes I lack in the common sense department. Basically, the winds around me were picking up, and very well nearing extremely dangerous speeds, but I was just so uncaring and happy that danger was pretty much a concept that was totally irrelevant in my mind. Who the hell gets hurt in their daydreams? That's just silly.
I opened my eyes for a split second to notice a tree. A tree moving toward me. I thought to myself, a rather simple thought, since it was one hell of an oak, "Man, are you serious?", and then it hit me.
Because this is one of those stories, I didn't just like, die, or anything.
I kind of went to another world.
Cool.
I awoke in a bed of snow, with a light blanket of soft snowflakes draped carefully over my body. I at first thought how odd it was that the frozen water was comforting, and how strange it was that I was not dying of hypothermia, or uh, the recent collision with an oak tree. How was I not dead, anyway? Why was there no pain, no broken bones, no minor sign of being injured whatsoever? I shook off my blanket, took a little gander around me, and took my surroundings in. My brain actually processed them this time. I realized that I was in the middle of a giant pass surrounded by the white flurry that is a blizzard. Ice. Snow. Hail. Have I mentioned that I lived in California? In the Central Valley? Snow? What the hell? Why was there snow? I only even know what a blizzard was thanks to Little House on the Prairie.
My bafflement was soon interrupted by this new world hitting me.
Apparently, worlds make a sport of abusing me. That's fun.
A carriage, drawn by horses, or something that looked like horses, came around a bank and roared into my view. Its wheels ricketed and rattled and spewed snow absolutely everywhere. Against the blizzard, it looked like a giant white yeti, bounding toward me on all fours. Kind of terrifying. As it passed me, two figures abandoned ship, and conveniently rolled right into me.
Oh dear, I thought. I just hoped they were human and I could communicate with them. Even though I wasn't freezing to death, which still confused the hell out of me, my stomach was telling me that I hadn't become immune to it's cries of "FEED ME!" so I had to find something to quell that little annoyance, and the sooner the better. Even though people nine times out of ten drove me minorly insane, I could deal with them to keep living.
I peered over at the slumps on the frozen terrain, they had a humanoid shape, so I started to make my way toward them, crawling and creeping ever so slightly, until I could make out more distinct features. I noticed normal eyes, noses, ears, even facial hair. Men.
I breathed a short sigh of relief, and decided to make sure the more rigid and unhappy looking slump was still able to function.
As my hand reached toward the neck of that unhappy slump, I felt my balance immediately usurped, and found myself slammed to the ground, with a knife conveniently placed about my neck. The only thing I could think, besides of the pain the impact caused, was, "Oh, it's going to be one of those days."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had pinned me down. They were about as chilling as our surroundings - they pierced me, like ice daggers.
He grumbled at me, "Don't move."
I complied. Didn't really have an issue with his order, either. He was at least ten times bigger, and ten times more in shape than me. Was not going to fight that.
The slump I'd attempted to check the pulse of came to and sat up awkwardly in the snow. He tilted his head, and glanced over at the scene next to him. He sighed lightly, and spoke.
"Tobias."
"What..?"
"Do you always have to be so damn dramatic? Let the poor thing go."
Tobias, the big guy, returned the glance, except with it, he added a little package of annoyance.
He grunted, retracted his blade, and picked me up by my shirt collar, which promptly ripped it, and I wouldn't say I was set, nor tossed, but I ended up sitting up on the ground somehow.
The other guy crawled over to me and waved at my face to make sure that I hadn't been too horribly mortified by his companion's "over-dramaticness". He had deep brown eyes. They almost seemed to smolder or ember, but their general luster gave off a presence of warmth and comfort. I liked him almost as immediately as I had been thrown on the ground just a minute earlier. He smiled a sheepish, cheeky smile at me, and asked my name.
I took a breath and told him that I was Amymone, but I much preferred to be called Amy, since Amymone was such an odd name.
"Nice name. Nice face. Where you from?"
"California."
"...what?"
"California!"
"What's that?"
"Um, how about I ask you a question first: where am I?"
"You're on the border of Amanthia and Haggernon."
I think I felt my jaw hit the ground. I wasn't really all that amazing at geography, and God knows I didn't know all the countries of the world, but I'd never, ever, heard of Amanthia or Haggernon. Was I in some weird part of Russia or something? What the hell?