The wind is cold. I shiver, huddled in the very farthest corner of the wagon, trying not to make a sound.

Trying to go unnoticed. To escape the attention of the cruel beasts holding the key to my chains.

The wind has other intentions. I shiver again at its cold embrace. The chains rattle against the wood boards, loud in the silence of the night.

"Cold, elf scum?" I hate that voice. The scars on my back throb. Reminders of dark caves and fire and pain and blood. The crack of a whip. Screaming. Always the screaming.

I shudder, but not from the cold this time. The chains rattle again.

"That wind is cold, elf scum. I'm surprised you haven't fallen into a death-sleep." I close my eyes. Maybe succumbing to this cold is better than another day, another week, another eternity in chains. In pain. Halfway dead. No, more than that. Almost dead.

It would be so easy, to just never wake up.

"It would be easier for us, elf scum, if you just died. Never woke up. Maybe if I helped you..." A clamoring of boots and armor and stomping. The silhouette of my captor against the moon, coming closer. "No one would object... if I just broke your neck..." Hot, heavy breath sends clouds of mist into the sky, clouds that disappear, snatched away by the wind.

It's a haunting kind of beautiful. I wouldn't object to it being my last sight of this earth. It's so much better than anything else I've experienced.

I close my eyes as slimy, calloused hands wrap around my neck, holding on to the image of the  fading mist against the star-scattered sky.

Then the orc's grip tightens and the breath is imprisoned in my lungs. The desperate attempts my body makes for oxygen snap my mind away from peace I thought I had. I struggle frantically against my captor, my executioner.

Who knew how much life my body still contained?

But even though my body contains a surprising will to live, heavy chains contain my body, and I am too weak to break free.

I am too weak to survive in this brutal place.

I... am... too... weak...

My vision fades to black, to nothingness.

Weak.

******O******O******O******

There is laughter in the air. A white clad maiden flits among the revelries, a spark of  irrepressible happiness in her eye.

Congratulations bounce off her dress, her veil, her crown. She reaches up to touch it, to remind herself that it's really there.

It still is. She smiles.

A hand on her shoulder. She jumps. A rumbling laugh.

Her smile returns, even brighter than before.

She turns to face her love, but his face is dark.

There is nothing but darkness.

The party fades in to black. The happiness disappears.

She is all alone.

And then she is not.

There is a voice. It is loud, so loud, too loud. It speaks around her, to her, within her. Everything is shaken by its power. It is loud. And garish. Full of bloodied weapons and destroyed cities and death and hate and it is consuming her and nothing will stop it and it is all around her and she doesn't want to hear it anymore but it is just getting louder and louder and louder and she is screaming but she can't even hear herself because all it is is loud loud loud, and terrible and it pounds into her skull and why won't it stop it just keeps getting louder and louder and more horrible and it is not stopping and it is screaming into her skull and

Silence.

There is no noise. No loud voice. Just herself. In the dark. In the quiet.

There is nothing.

Nothing at all.

******O******O******O******

There is something sharp in my shoulder. It hurts.

I open my eyes and stare the sun in the face. The clouds bleed out around it, a bright gaping hole in the sky.

It is too bright. My head pounds and I turn it to the side and instead stare into the vacant eyes of an orc.

There is a second of deadly silence. My shoulder throbs. The sun beats down from above.

I scream. And scream and scream and scream. I sit up, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder as I move it. There is something in it, I know, but I cannot think beyond my own terror. I scramble backwards and run into another body. I jump, then freeze. My screaming cuts off, as sudden as it had begun. My hands move up to my neck, tenderly examining the bruises, as I stare at the dead body of my captor.

My nightmare.

He is dead. A shower of arrows has peppered his armor from the behind. Just like the one that must still be in my shoulder. I grasp the wooden shaft firmly and pull.

The arrow comes out cleanly. I offer a grim thanks to the arrow and clutch it tightly in my fist. Not every weapon is so relatively painless to overcome. I know this. Experienced it.

I press my hand, still clutching the arrow, to wound to stem the flow of blood. My blood. Not the first time I've seen it spilt. But perhaps the first time it wasn't because of the beasts lying dead across the camp.

Whatever surprise attack happened here passed over me, by some miraculous luck. All the orcs, the beasts, I can see are dead. The small encampment which caused me so much pain is dead. All of it is, except for me.

The chains on my wrist are heavy, so hard, now that there is no one forcing me to wear them.

So begin my search for the keys. For my freedom.

Finally, the keys glint in the sun, a rusted metal circle of black metal. I have never been so glad to see orc metal before. They lie in pool of blood, but I ignore it. I pick up the rusting metal and try key after key after key in the hot sun.

My manacles finally fall off. Blessed relief. Blessed freedom. I let them fall on the carcass of the beast who had ordered me to be bound in them so long ago.

The keys I hold tight, along with my arrow.

I stand up on wobbly but free legs.

And I leave my prison. I head towards the distant dark forest covered in grime and blood, but smiling.

Because I am free.

******O******O******O******
AHHHHHH GUYS I DID IT
ITS HERE
I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!!
PLEASE LEAVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM
IM SO EXCITED
Chapter 2 is on its way! I'll probably be posting not long after the New Year. Stay tuned!!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!!!
<3 Spirit