***Aniki***

"Aniki, come back. Please...?"

     *   *   *

She can hear the soft voice talking to her through the dim cloud. It is
calling her name, and it is different than those other voices she hears,
ones that just talk around her; it is softer, more personal. And it sounds
familiar as well.

She tentatively listens closer, letting her mind open up a bit more to her
surroundings. Mostly, she sees white. Am I dead? she wonders. Is that voice
from beyond?

It doesn't sound like God would though; it's feminine. And really familiar
too. Trying to place the voice, she opens her mind a bit, letting in
memories that might give her a hint as to who the voice is.

   *crude noises in another language, men laughing*

Wait, what's this? This isn't what I wanted, she thinks....

   *bodies moving above hers, pain coming from between her*

NOOOO!  What's this?! I don't want to remember this! Shutting off the
memories, forgetting all about the soft, familiar voice, she retreats from
the memories, unable to yet deal with them....


***Isolinde***

Isolinde sighed and gently laid Aniki's hand back onto the bed. She had been
so sure her friend had responded; her eyes had focussed on the room and her
face had shown the first emotion, besides fear, since she'd returned:
confusion.  But just as suddenly as it had happened, it had changed; from
confusion to fear, fear instantly back to the blank expression now so normal
to her face.

She sighed again and stood up, looked at her friend once more, and left the
room. She walked back outside, where Faile was waiting. Looking at the
dragonet-turning-dragon, she momentarilary forgot about her friend. She
couldn't believe how fast the dragon was growing; she was big enough now to fly.

<If you want, we can practice flying now> Faile prompted eagerly.

*Sorry girl, not yet* Isolinde replied sadly. *We're not doing that til
tomorrow.*

Faile sighed, both audibly and mentally. <I know, but still....>

*I know, I know. I want to too, but you know...* She trailed off as she
noticed the smoke coming from far away.  *What's that?*

<I don't know...> Faile answered. A moment later, she stated <Rogue riders
attacked the nomads!>

*Rogue riders? Here at Cleft?* Isolinde was stunned; they'd barely even
started, and already they had rogue riders in the vicinity.

Dragons were begining to take off toward the village already.  Faile flapped
her wings slightly, clearly wishing she could go.

*Soon* Isolinde soothed her dragon, wishing she could go as well. *I
promise, soon.*


***R'bert***

R'bert materialized over the small village to be greeted with destruction.
Just about every house or hut was burning, and people were running to and
fro, if they weren't lying groaning or unconscious on the ground. Kracken
hovered above, letting R'bert survey what happened. Women and children were
kneeling beside bodies, some crying while others screamed.

Looking at the carnage and destruction, R'bert tried not to feel pity; after
all, these people had done things just as bad to Brisse and poor Aniki.  But
as the scene seeped in, he realized it didn't matter; whatever they'd done,
they couldn't have deserved this. Perhaps the people who had hurt Aniki and
Brisse did, but not the women and children!

He landed nearby other riders and dismounted. HE could see Farr'in talking
to one of the village woman; she must have spoken dragonlands tongue, or he
nomad, because they seemed to be doing fairly well communicating. He could
see people helping with the wounded, so he decided to join in. 

He headed around one smoldering hut, coughing slightly, when he heard a
small sound. He froze, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound; a
moment later, it came again from his right. He headed that way quietly, not
knowing exactly what to expect.

He saw the man a moment later. The nomad was lying half in, half out of the
hut, and was obviously in a great deal of pain. R'bert could see that both
his arms were burnt, and clothing from his torso was charred as well. He was
moaning in anguish and pain, calling out a name over and over again.

He turned his head and saw R'bert standing there. His eyes widened in panic
and he tried to get up and away. As he tried to push himself up with his
arms, however, his whole body stiffened and a low moan escaped his mouth. He
fel back to the ground, and his eyes rolled back, signifying unconsciousness.

R'bert inched slowly foward, not certain what to do. The man needed medical
attention, obviously, but he wasn't sure whether to show another tribesman
or take him to the warren. He reached down, grabbing the man's arm as gently
as he could, and started to drag him out. To his amazement and disgust,
flakes of scorched skin came off in his hand. Seeing the full extent of the
injury, he thought *Kracken, we're going to take this man to the warren.*
Hefting the shorter man, he headed toward the waiting dragon. *Inform the
hospital we're coming with a severely injured nomad.*


***Aron***

Aron knew the minute his father and the rest of the riders came back; he
could feel the dragons pop back.  Throwing down his toy, he rushed out to
greet them.

<*Don't do it, hatchling*> he heard Sareth, his father's dragon, warn him.
<*They're not in a good mood.*>

And indeed they weren't; he could hear the riders cursing, even his usually
stoic father, and changed direction, hiding behind one of the tents as they
passed.  He watched them go by, surrepticiously following them towards his
father's tent. Sitting nearby, but not near enough to be noticed through the
canvas, he listened as the men talked.

"Those goddamn warren riders!" his father exploded as the final man entered.
"Why the hell did they have to come now? And why here!?" The sound of
something breaking accompanied the last sentence, causing Aron to flinch.

"Who knows?" one of the other men, Alan by the sound of his voice, replied.
"But you know the warrens; they're everywhere."

"Yeah, but why here?" someone else complained. "And why now? We were doing
so good with the nomads. Now it'll all be ruined."

The griping and arguing went on for a while longer; strangly, though, Aron
didn't hear his father at all during that time.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Alan demanded. "We can't just let
them take over!"

"Maybe we won't have to," Aron's father said slowly, and all talk in the
tent ceased. Aron could almost see them all leaning eagerly foward, waiting
for their leader to speak.

"Perhaps we can turn this little problem to our advantage," the leader said
after a brief pause. "I have a plan, but it might take some doing to pull
off...."

Aron listened through the tent for a while longer as the plan was laid out,
and the men argued on the finer points. Finally, they agreed and began
leaving the tent. Aron moved around a big more, not wanting them to see him,
and instinctively knowing that if they knew he'd heard, he would be in danger.

He wished Sarina was still there. She and he had become good friends, even
before they'd understood each other.  She'd learned his tongue, or bits of
it, whereas he, with his still developing mind, had grasped her language
easily. He had been able to talk almost directly with her in the foreign
tongue before she'd escaped; now, he still talked with the other nomads,
most of which were girls; but none would ever really talk back.

He was about to come back around and out of hiding when his father emerged.
Aron froze, hoping he hadn't been seen; at times, his father wasn't exactly
loving, yet Aron still loved him. And now was probably one of thos times.
His father surveyed the small crowd of people, then smiled wickedly and
pointed at one of the newer nomad girls. The girl shook her head in obvious
fear, but Aron's father just beckoned and two riders grabbed her and hauled
her to the tent.

Aron stayed where he was as his father forced the girl into the hut,
following right after. Moments later he heard her painful cries and his
father's grunts as they began. Aron just drew himself tighter, hoping it
wouldn't take too long; the girl's cries made him feel uncomfortable....


NRPG: Sorry I'm behind; hope this doesn't mess up anybody's posts. Pretty
much just another casuality from the village being brought back to the warren.


Bio for Aron

Aron, age 7, sandy blond hair, green eyes, about 4'2".  The typical abuse
kid; loves his father even though he beats on him.  Doesn't like seeing
others suffer, although he's become practically deadened to it living in the
camp. Telepathic.

Submitted by

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
~ Sarah Pearson (isolinde@cwnet.com)            ~
* Lyonnia/Dianthus *TELNOR*; Rezsia/Jezebel     *
~ *DAERE*; Tanya/Poldera *WHITERIVER*;          ~
* Cynedra/Jakob*the dog*/Louie*the ferret*      *
~ *MYSTERRA*; Leanna Vere *USS MAGELLAN*;       ~
* Marcail/Gossamer *GEODE*; Linaya *RALENGARDE  *
~ http://www.linux.sfasu.edu/xfiles/xfrpg.html  ~
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Reality is the only obstacle to happiness."  -Anonymous-