Okay. So this is the beginning of this brainwave that I've had bouncing around in my thoughts for several years now. The plot, title, and main characters have all changed dramatically since I first tried to nail the idea into something less abstract, but I think they've all settled on being slightly permanent. At least....until I get the damn thing finished. It's been written, rewritten, and suffered vast massacres by way of the 'delete' button on my keyboard...so hopefully something good will come out of the trauma this whole thing has put me through.

The beginning still needs work and should probably last a little longer, but I really can't think of anything more to stretch it out with without making it more boring than it already is.

Kidding.

Oh...and sorry for any mistakes I didn't catch...I don't have a beta as of yet. But hopefully I will find one soon.

A SHARP RAY OF SUNLIGHT poking me in the eye was the cause of my rude awakening that last morning. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, I brought my arms up to shield my eyes too fast and ended up ripping the covers out from under me―inadvertently flinging myself out of bed.

What a great way to start the day.

Swearing eloquently to myself and massaging my shoulder, which had hit the corner of my bed, I slowly got up off the floor and trudged over to my closet, feeling the already warm air floating through the screen of my open window. I spared a brief glance for my clock that sat on my bedside table, checking to see how much of the morning I had managed to sleep away. Unfortunately…it was not as late as I would have liked.

After staring at my rumbled and disheveled appearance in my full length mirror, I grabbed the hairbrush that was in danger of falling off my dresser and pulled it through my stubborn hair, glaring at the mirror as if it had done me some great personal harm. Then, still in my pajamas, I clunked downstairs to the kitchen via the upstairs hallway, a light brown, carpeted stairway, and a large, cushy living room. Sarah, my older sister and Emeril-wannabe, had made something, judging from the smell of eggs that engulfed the entire downstairs, but I didn't take any when she silently offered some to me. I just sat huffily into my chair at the table and grabbed the comics from the huge mass that was the Sunday newspaper, sitting cross-legged on my chair to keep my bare feet off the perpetually freezing tile floor.

"Good morning, Leila," my dad said calmly from behind the sports section. "Did you sleep well?"

I gave him an unintelligible grunt for an answer, stole a piece of his untouched toast, and turned my attention to Charlie Brown.

"What do you plan on doing today?" he asked after a moment or two of silence. I shrugged, but then remembered that he couldn't see me through the giant picture of Peyton Manning and the stats of last night's football games.

"I don't know, but I'm sure there's something," I replied eventually, trying to make it sound like I had important plans, and that they shouldn't be disturbed or canceled for anything that could be construed as 'family time'…all while being as non-specific as possible.

"Alright then," he replied in that voice people use when they weren't really paying any attention to you at all, but feel the need to make you think they were. I rolled my eyes and snatched his other piece of toast as I went back up to my room, trudging the whole way so as to let everyone know (like I had done every day for my entire natural-born life) that I was not a morning person.

The blankness that was my itinerary for the day stretched on and on before me with a huge, scathing grin, seeming to say with a blatant and unnecessary cruelness that I was probably the most boring seventeen-going-on-eighteen year old girl in the entire world. I needed to get a life. Seriously. What was I going to do today? For a moment, I thought about sitting in the tree in the backyard and reading another book, like I had done yesterday (and the day before, and the day before that…) but for some reason the idea didn't appeal to me as much as it usually did.

I sighed as I turned the handle on my bedroom door, entering into my messy sanctuary again. Two steps later, I hissed in pain and proceeded to hop in an ungainly and awkward motion towards the blank area of carpet by my dresser, making a mental note for myself that leaving the keys to my car on the floor would not be conducive to my general life plan of actually using my feet to walk on.

Thinking more about my options for the day, I shrugged on a pair of jeans and a white sleeveless shirt. Maybe I could call one of my friends? No. That idea didn't sound exciting either; I was never really one to start up phone conversations…my generally monosyllabic responses weren’t really good for keeping one going for longer than a minute or so. I frowned at my reflection as I looked at myself in the mirror again and pulled my hair up into a ponytail, lacking inspiration and low humidity outside to do anything more elaborate than that. Eventually, after I had exhausted all my possibilities of plan-making for the day, I ended up just cleaning my room…starting with the displaced car keys.

After a couple of hours or so, I decided that I would just go down and read by the river, to give myself a change of scenery from the backyard. I grabbed the first book that caught my eye, Jane Eyre, and headed back downstairs. The carpet had a nice feeling between my toes, and I decided right then that shoes weren’t necessary. I was just going across the street…and would’ve just ended up taking them off anyway.

"Bye Dad, I'm going out," I called as I headed to the front door, my feet registering the change from soft carpet to cold tile again as I hit the atrium at the bottom of the stairs.

"Okay.”

I wrenched open the front door and closed it again, heading down the street quickly, not wanting to leave any opening for him to call me back.

It’s not that I didn’t like spending time with my family, I did…but sometimes I just had this strange, overwhelming sense that I needed to get away. It was far more intense than just your normal, everyday need for independence that teenagers have, begging to leave the house as soon as possible. That goal wasn’t too far off for me; at the end of the month I would be officially on my own and firmly ensconced in the college experience. But it seemed that as the time grew closer and closer, time started to march slower and slower, drawing things out until the anticipation was almost painful. My need to leave seemed different somehow, but whenever I sat down to try and place what exactly was eating at me, I could never put my finger on it.

It’s not like I didn’t get along with my parents; I did. My Mom and Dad were the rare type of adult that was actually fun to be around. We had good times, and there was rarely ever any fighting, but that was mostly because I was a very passive kind of person. I would rather just let something slide and deal with the consequences of it later than solve the issue by actually having to be somewhat assertive. Most of the time I could get away with doing that without any serious repercussions to deal with on my part, but my parents weren’t satisfied with that. I was constantly being told to stand up for myself, but I never really had the inclination to. It was a bad habit to have, I knew that, but I always told myself that I would step up when it was really necessary.

My sister Sarah couldn’t be more opposite. She was loud and outspoken, and everyone on this side of the Mississippi River knew it when she wasn’t happy or didn’t get her way. She never let anyone get away with anything she didn’t like. In high school she was the type to be involved in Student Council and things like that; very popular and congenial. She had lots of friends and was always out with them during some course of any given weekend. She was also a bit of a flirt…there had been many boys coming around the house since as long as I could remember.

So I tried to get out of the house as often as I could, knowing that my sanity would be the first thing to go if I stayed much longer. My parents were definitely a little on the indifferent side to see me go; they had already come and gone with Sarah’s college experience, so this time around it almost felt like they were going through the motions.

The river in the park trickled by lazily, making a contented, gurgling splash as it washed over the medium sized rocks and protruding tree roots that sat in its shallow bed. I walked along the bank, scanning the quiet park for an isolated, shady place, but was so far out of luck. Other people had come to the park today; families, teenagers, and the occasional homeless person. The summer breeze came through the trees, making the leaves rustle lazily and blowing the scent of freshly cut grass to my nose. I continued walking, enjoying the sun on my skin, and dodging the occasional mock sword fight between kids with sticks. I looked back in the river again.

There was a light shimmer on the water that caught my eye. At first, I thought it was just the sun reflected on the surface, but somehow that didn’t seem right. As I continued to stare at it, the more it seemed to come from under the water. Was there something under there? I squinted, but couldn’t see anything that would give off such a reflection. I waited, hoping for a shadow to pass over it to see if that would help.

It didn’t. When the sun was temporarily obscured by the clouds, the light under the water continued to shine.

Weird.

I continued to walk along the bank of the river, ignoring the fact that I was leaving the populated area of the park. I just watched the sparkle under the water, unable to tear my eyes away from it. In the back of my mind, something tried to warn me that this was a little strange, and that I should just look away and go back to the main area of the park. That part, however, was vastly overshadowed by the rest of my conscience…which wanted to continue to follow the light under the water.

After what seemed like only a short while, however, the light stopped moving. I immediately stopped walking, waiting to see what it was going to do next. I continued to stare straight into the water, and the light seemed to increase its glow, little by little. Gradually, the park around me seemed to dim and fade away into insignificance.

But I didn’t notice. I was too intent on the light in the river. A sound was beginning to grow, seeming to come from the light, yet also from inside my mind as well. It was a beautiful melody; haunting and gorgeous, simple yet complex. It was a style I was not familiar with at all…it sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before.

The light in the water began to swirl slowly, and I leaned forward over the bank of the river, following it as it came in danger of disappearing under the overhanging edge. It came closer, and I leaned over more. I was scared that I felt slightly off-balance, knowing that if I leaned over more then I would surely fall into the river.

This fear helped grabbed my repressed common sense and reawaken it, and now the part of my brain that was against following the light resurfaced, bringing with it the knowledge that I couldn’t swim. This set me back ever so slightly, torn between the impulsive, unexplainable need to follow the light and the fear of drowning.

As if sensing my hesitation, the light began to grow brighter and the music in my head increased, as if the light was doubling its efforts to get me in the water. My reluctance began to fade away, and I leaned over farther. I wanted to follow it. I wanted to know where it came from. The music grew louder, and I leaned over more. The light grew bigger, and as I breathed I could smell something sweet and tantalizing on the air.

And then I lost my balance, falling into the river right on top of glowing, ethereal light. At first I was not afraid. The river here was not deep; once I hit the bottom I would be able to stand up.

But I never hit the bottom of the river. I kept falling through the water, the light that had initially surrounded me when I fell was no longer there, and I was now fully aware of myself again. I struggled, flailing my arms wildly, searching in vain for the surface. My lungs burned with the need for air, and black spots danced on the edges of my vision.

From somewhere around me, I heard a splash and the whooshing sound of something large in the river with me. Was it an animal? Were there alligators or something in this river? I did not have enough oxygen in my brain to be scared, so I just stopped struggling in the water and let myself sink. I couldn’t fight it anymore; my body, starving for air, had given up the fight.

Suddenly, arms had closed around my waist and began to pull me up. I had the sensation of swiftly upwards as the strong arms held me tightly. After what seemed like an eternity packed into the miniscule two seconds that it probably was, we broke the surface. I wanted to open my mouth and take a great gasp of air, like the person who had just prevented me from drowning, but I couldn’t. The part of my brain that controlled breathing was apparently shut down. My eyes were still closed and my entire body was limp. A male voice that I didn’t recognize called out to me, but I didn’t process the words. I felt myself being dragged further onto the riverbank, and I just lay there, thankful to be back on dry land, yet still unable to breathe, unable to open my eyes. Water was sloshing unpleasantly about in my lungs, but then a strong pressure on my chest began to force it out. I coughed and turned my head to the side, the awful tasting river water burning as it came back up my throat. Taking several quick and needy gasps of air, I was finally able to breathe again. Rough hands were on the side of my face, and a voice was calling to me. I opened my eyes a little, and there was a face there, framed by the sunlight that was filtering through the trees above. I tried to form words, but I couldn’t. Darkness came at the edges of my vision again, and I finally collapsed into a deep unconsciousness.

…

It was dark when I woke up again, and I was stiff. My throat felt like I’d been inhaling cotton balls while I was unconscious; I desperately needed some water…and to brush my teeth. I lay where I was for a little while, not wanting to move and invoke the wrath of my sore muscles. Breathing in deeply, and I could smell grass.

That sent up a little alarm in my mind. I shouldn’t be able to smell grass, unless the hospital I was in decided to go with air fresheners instead of the all time favorite smell of rubbing alcohol and latex gloves. I shifted where I lay and once again something did not feel right. I did not seem to be lying on a mattress.

I opened my eyes quickly and sat bolt upright, an action that I instantly regretted. My muscles protested angrily, but I ignored them. My entire brain was too busy trying to figure out where the hell I was.

It was night, and I was in the middle of a freaking forest.

That didn’t make any sense.

It was pitch dark; I could see nothing around me. A wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves a little bit, curling around me like a cold sweater and tossing my hair around as it passed me. I clutched the blanket that had been placed on me tighter to myself in a reflex. It was made of a wool-like material: slightly scratchy, yet not unpleasant to the touch. I ran my fingers on it distractedly, my habit of nervously fidgeting with things in my hand coming forth as my brain worked crazily on a solution to this situation I was in.

I started by analyzing myself first. Was I okay? From what I could tell, I didn’t seem to be too hurt anywhere, just soreness in my body from sleeping on the ground and a raspy throat from my near-drowning experience. The chilly wind had revealed that I had lost my shoes; I curled my toes reflexively under the blanket. My jeans and shirt were still slightly damp, as well as my hair. I concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to calm myself. I needed to think rationally about this. I needed to find something I recognized.

“C’mor eset stai?”

I whirled around, my almost-calmness completely shattered as a strange voice came out of the darkness. To my horror, I could see a man sitting up against a nearby tree, looking at me questioningly. I gaped at him, at first frozen in place, but after the moment of shock my muscles regained control and I scrambled back away from him as fast as I could until my back hit the tree behind me. It was the first impulse that came into my mind and I acted on it, all the horror stories about rapists and men in dark alleys flooding into my mind in frightening detail.

The man realized that he had scared me, and I saw what looked like an apologetic look crossed his face. He didn’t make any move to come closer, but held up his hands in what seemed like a surrendering, peaceful gesture.

It took me a moment of hyperventilating and freaking out to recover enough to take in this new perspective I had gained. There were the dying embers of a small fire between me and the strange man, and the glow enhanced his already dark features. I stared at him shamelessly; trying to discern visually if he could possibly be threatening. He didn’t seem to be, but I made no move to return to my previous spot.

He said something else after a long, tense moment, but my brain was too fried from the stress to understand. Neither of us moved. I continued to stare at him. The man across from me had chin length dark hair; in this light I couldn’t decide if it was black or dark brown. He slowly reached out to me, and I shrank away from him; a tricky feat considering couldn’t move back anymore without melting into the tree. The sharp, prickly bark was digging into my back through the blanket I had wrapped tightly around me, but my only other option would be to shift forward, closer to this guy…an option that that I was not willing to consider right now.

The man noticed my fear and made no move to come any closer, but he continued to look back at me with a calculating expression, looking me up and down. I was uncomfortable under his gaze, but since I was staring back, I guess it was only fair.

The wind blew through the trees again, and it was so silent between me and the stranger that I would hear the faint whistling as it whipped around the trunks and the rustling as the leaves on the giant oak trees all around us were disturbed. My breathing had returned to normal, and I felt a little bit calmer about the situation. Well, calm enough to think more rationally. The driving need I had felt at first to just get up and run away was dissipating, now that I could see the ridiculous stupidity of that particular scenario. I tried to think back, to figure out exactly how I got into this situation. The last thing I remembered was walking in the park…but then the whole business with the river and the creepy light…and the uncomfortable feeling of drowning before the darkness. As I dredged through the foggy half-glimpses of these memories, a face came into view, framed by the sun and water dripping from the ends of his hair. I couldn’t see the face clearly, but I had a ninety-nine-point-nine percent guess that it was the man sitting across the clearing from me now. And if that was true, then that meant he saved my life.

A little voice in the back of my mind started whispering to me now, and I actually felt kind of bad for shrinking away from him. But, I mean, I was just being cautious. Waking up in a strange forest with a guy you’ve never met sounds all sorts of alarms in your head.

It was a couple of minutes before I could get the words out.

“Thank…you…” I said, in a soft and shaky voice, much more high pitched than normal. The man across from me looked up at the noise, but judging by his expression he hadn’t understood me. So I repeated it, concentrating on making my voice sound clear and normal.

His facial expression changed only minutely. The confused look was still there, but also I could see a tinge of relief. Relief about what, though? That I was talking? That I was attempting to be normal? Then why the hell was he looking at me like I was speaking another language?

When he responded, I found out why.

The man before me couldn’t understand what I was saying, because I was speaking another language to him. The, flowing, musical syllables coming from his lips sounded like nothing I had ever heard before. I listened carefully, trying to pick up any words I might recognize, but just ended up looking back at him with the same blank, confused look he had given me. A little voice in the back of my mind was wondering how the hell I had fallen into the river and managed to be rescued by some guy who didn't speak English and woken up in some random place that was definitely not the park I had been in.

He sat back and sighed when I said nothing, trying to come up with a solution to this language barrier.

Something howled in the distance, sending shivers down my spine and making my hair stand on end. It sounded very haunting, very chilling, and I wondered what kind of large, human-eating animal would make that sort of sound. I sat up stiffly, looking around with wide eyes, clutching the blanket tightly, and staring out into the black darkness waiting for the animal to come walking into the firelight.

And suddenly the man was next to me, close enough to touch. I jumped and tried to shrink away, but he grabbed my arm gently and held his hands out in a calming and peaceful gesture. My breathing had escalated again, making the burning sensation in my raw throat increase. Then, slowly, the man reached his other arm up and around me. It almost seemed like he was going to pull me into an embrace, but I saw that he was reaching for the blanket that had fallen from my shoulders. He pulled it out, and at first I thought he was going to take it away. Was I his prisoner, and now that I was awake I didn't deserve the luxury of warmth?

But my fears were unfounded. With a swift motion, the man shook the blanket up and wrapped it around my shoulders again, where it almost seemed to fit me like a jacket. Then he pulled one of my arms gently through a hole in the fabric that I had not noticed before, and did the same with the other arm.

Oh. I got it now. It wasn't a blanket at all...it was a cloak-type thing, straight out of a stall one would see at the Renaissance Festival. He pulled it around me so that it covered up my legs as well. I discovered that I was much warmer now.

The man sat back, now that he had corrected my use of what I assumed to be his cloak, but he didn't go back to the other side of the fire. He looked me up and down once again, and then gestured to himself.

“Cambrian,” he said.

I gave him a confused look.

He gestured to himself again and repeated the word. “Cambrian.”

So I guess that was his name? I looked at him for a while, trying to decide whether or not I should give him mine. Was it safe? But...he had seemed to willingly offer up his, so I convinced myself that it was alright.

I took several deep breaths to steady myself. Cambrian was obviously waiting for me to respond.

“Leila,” I said finally, pulling a hand from the depths of the cloak I was wrapped in and pointing to myself.

A slight smile crossed his features. “Leila,” he repeated, sounding it out. I couldn't help but notice how nice my name sounded as he said it. The unknown language he spoke with gave it a pleasant, musical quality.

“Cambrian,” I said, testing his name out. He nodded his head, letting me know I had it right. We lapsed into silence again, and Cambrian moved to the other side of the fire once more. I leaned back into the tree more, my body still exhausted from nearly drowning, and soon I was asleep.

...

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