The Doctor Rules!!!!!! discussion

So, for those of you who like to write stuff(stories, books, poetry, declarations of war, etc.), what are you currently writing? Share here.

A book - I just go the outline finished! My goal is to prepare for Battle Of The Bands and finish my book this Summer Vacation!

Jordan wrote: "So, for those of you who like to write stuff(stories, books, poetry, declarations of war, etc.), what are you currently writing? Share here."

You have inspired me to write a declaration of war.

Hi everyone.

I've written a book called A Class Apart. It's the first in a series entitled Class Heroes.

You can take a look for yourselves - and it won't cost you a bean.

Today (Sunday 29 April), A Class Apart is available for free on Amazon.

It's a thriller about two teenagers who get superpowers after surviving a terrorist bombing.

There's even a Doctor Who connection. For those of you who know of/remember the Doctor Who Target books in the 70s and 80s, you'll know of Andrew Skilleter, the book cover artist.

Andrew very kindly created a painting of the main characters for the book. You'll see them on the Amazon page. Just look at the "Customer Image" underneath the book cover. He based them on photos of my two cousins. Splendid chaps. All of them. (Ok, one is a girl, but it would spoil the quote).

In the UK you can get A Class Apart here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0...

On Amazon.com it's here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005...

Hope you enjoy it. There are some extras (like DVD extras) on the accompanying websites.
See
http://www.classheroes.com/
and
http://www.247interactivenews.com/

If you feel so compelled, I'd me most grateful if you could post a review.

Thanks. Much obliged.

Jordan, The Picture Magician (aka Probie) wrote: "So, for those of you who like to write stuff(stories, books, poetry, declarations of war, etc.), what are you currently writing? Share here."

A declaration of war! LOL!

I'm writing a book called: The Book.

I'm abut to write a movie script. Our home-school group is making a movie and I am one of the scriptwriters! I'm very excited to start.

Cool! I sometimes imagine writing a script, I know what it is.
, I just can't do it.

I might start writing it today, I just need all the character's names first :P

Haha. I could help you! I'm good at naming things.

My mom and I came up with all the names! :)

Bratty Girl: Mary Sigourney
Genius Girl: Ashely Tiptin
Military Girl: Margo Flannery (my favorite!)

Cheif One: Tyler Zane
Chief Two: Jackson Brooks
Techno Geek: Mac Roberts

Cooooool. Do you need any MORE names?

I'm turning a short story i wrote last year into a longer story, possibly a novel. It's about a girl whose house goes up in flames while they're all sleeping and she is trapped. In order to survive she has to jump out her window. Not the best of stories but...

Well, I just finished writing a novel- 24, 621 words! And not quite done, I guess, but almost! :D Now I'm writing a story about a junior named Kayla who falls in love with Andrew, a loser, and tries to help him become popular.

Sounds interesting! I wrote a short story a while ago and now I'm trying to turn it into a novel. Now it's about 1,000 words and 3 pages so not exactly a novel yet. It's about a girl and while she and her family is sleeping, her house goes up in flames and she has to escape on her own. It sounded better in my head but so far so good.

Free eBook

Yes, you heard correctly. Free on Amazon Kindle on Wednesday 16 and Thursday 17 May (starts at 00:00 PST). Check the price is at zero pounds/dollars before you download, otherwise (as they say in game shows) you will be charged.

What's it called?
A Class Apart. The first in the Class Heroes series.

Where can I get it?

For the UK:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0...

For the US (and most other places):
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005...

What's it all about?
Teenage twins James and Samantha Blake are caught up in a seemingly random terrorist bombing while on a school trip. Many of their friends are killed. When the twins wake up in hospital, their lives have changed forever.

The doctors are amazed at the speed with which James and Sam recover from their injuries and, when the twins begin to exhibit extraordinary powers, it is obvious that something incredible has happened.

As James and Sam attempt to overcome their fears and embrace their new abilities, a series of murders and disappearances start plaguing the hospital. The twins aren't the only ones with special abilities and it becomes apparent that someone is coming for them.

Will James and Sam be able to survive the nightmare into which they have been plunged? Who, or what, is behind the murders at the hospital? And was that terrorist incident quite so random after all?

Hope you enjoy it.
Steve

There are actually a bunch if free books on Amazon all the time so....

“Why?” I cried above the screaming wind. Moor grasses danced and licked our thighs. The moonlight was thick, streaming upon the ground like pudding and sticking to everything; my silk stockings and maroon garb, the grasses, and upon the face I hated most.
He turned to me and I saw, uneasily, the light of madness swirling in his dark eyes.
“I worked hard for them—harder than anyone at the Institute—they’ve no idea of the sacrifices I had to make to get where I am now! They couldn’t see what I did, even the Headmaster was blind to my genius—don’t you see, Thera, they cast me out like a dog!”
Indeed, there was an uncontrollable, screeching madness in his voice, but then I saw something else, something chilling—the frothing and yellow teeth of a dog poking and biting through his already blackened heart. Snarling and screaming, louder and fiercer than the wind surrounding us now, they bit and snapped and foamed. I took a step back, horrified at what this man had become. The dog’s teeth tore through his stained black heart and then it was gone; now there was only the dog’s teeth and rage.
“No,” I said softly, then louder: “NO! You can’t know what you’re doing to yourself, stop it, stop it now!”
He said no word, but stretching open his dripping black mouth and snarled—the snarl of an animal. I reached towards my belt for my knife, but then with a plummet of dread, remembered I’d given it to Habian. I looked again at the man—or was it a monster?—struggling to remain upright in the marsh; he leered again at me with his tar-colored teeth and snarled, eyes demented and wild—and then he lunged.

Woah, that's awesome!!!!!!!!

Thanks!

janeen, you just scared me. O.o

Really? Tee hee! 0_0
I'm so glad you like it!!! :D

His teeth closed around my throat, brushing against the frozen metal that were my butterfly wings, there was a dent in the metal, a scar—I screamed against the twilight curtains of the sky, and then he was yanked off me, shoved away by an incredible force I thought I’d never see again.
Habian crouched in the marshes, stained and soaking wet in his wolf’s suit, teeth bared. The man who’d gotten his heart torn apart by his own dog’s teeth eyed him warily. Habian held my knife in his gloved hand, and the fur was matted by adventure.
“Leave her be.”
His opponent let loose a scream, more animal than human, and black strings of lust flew from his maw. I got to my feet slowly, rubbing my throat and the irreplaceable butterfly wings that had almost gotten shredded—my freedom, dangling by a thread, and now in the teeth of these two men, merging on beast.


They lunged at each other in an explosion of inhuman fury. Snarls rent the air and tore it in half, and my knife in the hand of a half-stranger flashed brighter than lighting. Dog’s teeth—wolf’s teeth—they both snapped at the moon and clouds, longing to devour them, to save them. They tore for hate, they ripped for freedom, and closed down upon fur. A ribbon of blood twisted in the air.
A scream welled up in my throat, but stuck halfway, didn’t get out. The scream didn’t know me—me, a farm girl, or me the warrior, watching her friendly stranger battle a beast—who was the girl who watched this battle on the marsh, while around her the fallen kingdom raged?
The silver knife, gripped in human hands gloved by fur, was wrestled from his hands. I took a step forward, my eyes howling, as the knife was jammed forward. Habian stumbled as blood leaked down his wolf’s suit, as the man-beast towered above him, leering in victory. He let loose a screeching howl, now completely empty of anything human.
I ran to Habian’s side as he collapsed, blood turning the grey of his wolf suit into a wide stripe of grey-scarlet despair. The handle of the knife stuck out from his stomach—they stunk of dog’s teeth, having devoured a heart. The beast above us screamed again, and the air splintered around us, collapsing. Our throats constricted like wrung-out rags. I squeezed Habian’s hand. His eyes were those of the wolf, unwilling to give up. He struggled out of my grip.
“Habian—I’m sorry—but it’s time to run.” I still had my fingers.
“No,” he seethed, teeth gritted. He gasped in pain. “I—I—I refuse.”
The beast ran forward, and I knew it sought to devour our hearts as well. Normally I let Habian do what he wanted, but this was an expectation.
“I’m sorry,” I said. My fingers, my butterflies, my freedom—I still held a shred. The beast was above us now, mouth gaping and dripping with black. I closed my eyes, concentrated—and became my freedom. My thin fingers became soft, feathery—I held tight to Habian—The beast landed down upon nothing but marsh grass as, supporting Habian, I sped away, swinging through the marsh grasses, now as tall as buildings, as we sped over and through the dark green maze. We were as swift and as small as butterflies, a golden glimmer in the marsh. The beast howled in rage as we flew on the dark battle-field wind.
We landed in the nearest town. It was deserted. A sudden drizzle of rain pattered our faces as we smacked down upon the cobble-stones, restored to our full sizes. Blood spilled onto the street, turned watery by the rain, and washed away. It was just as quickly replaced.
I cradled Habian’s head in my lap. His eyes fluttered open as he gasped the air, no longer broken by battle.
“Why…did you do that? I could’ve beaten him.”
“Liar,” I said softly. “We’ve got to get you somewhere safe.” I looked around for a building still in possession of its roof and four walls; the ones in our immediate vicinity were crumbling and burnt.
“Thera—”
His eyelids fluttered. I leaned closer to him.
“Yes?”
His hair was damp with rain and the spent exhaustion of adventure and battle. My eyes lingered on the short but deep scar on his right check. He’d gotten it on the first day we’d met.
“Thera,” he whispered. “Closer.”
Rain and blood leaked down his face, resembling tears. They broke up once reaching the scar, looking more like claws.
“Habian, hurry up and tell me whatever it is—we’ve got to get you out of the rain,” I said fearfully. I had no choice but to carry him manually; my butterflies were spent. Was there even a single intact house in this entire town?
He reached up with a gloved hand, grabbing my shirt and yanking me to him—and then he kissed me. On the day we met, he swore he’d never do such a thing to anyone…that had been his wolf’s pride, I thought…and yet here we were, in the ally and the rain. A small flower hesitantly bloomed; rain and blood sliding down its soft petals. It bloomed anyway.
His hand let go of my shirt as we pulled apart.
“Habian,” I said, surprised.
His eyes stared upward at the rain-soggy sky. Thunder growled. He didn’t blink for an entire minute.
Then I screamed, long and loud—a scream of someone who’s kingdom and family had been crashed against the crags of death—my dreams and hopes shattered like mirrors—and now even my small flower was crushed. A raging, lashing storm devoured my heart. I shook violently and hugged Habian’s still body.
He was dead.

What is this story you're writing? It is seriously freaking me out and yet I want more!!!

I'm SO glad you like it! :D
The story currently doesn't have a title :P

So, is this the whole story or is this a scene? what exactly is the plot and please explain the characters!

Well, it IS a story. I'm writing it for you guys. But I think I'll keep the entire plot a secret, so you guys can unravel it as you go along... *evil chuckle*

I might have spent an eternity there, in the rain; I knew naught but the cold reality of my friend’s body and didn’t look up for a calendar of days. As the rain finally ceased, his muddy clothes dried but gained moisture once more due to my tears. He had been my singular friend after my family’s death; helping me find the smallest ray of light and friendship in this decaying world. Of course, that had been after I’d tamed him.
I kissed his cold lips again, in memoriam of that one, wonderful moment. I’d never kissed anyone before. Why had it been so short? A pure white cloth obscured my vision of Habian, my dear, dear wolf’s boy, as I flew back and back through the days, arriving at the one when we’d first met…
“Thief!”
He was, I saw, human. The dog’s teeth had yet to snap and bite. He took his spear and jammed it at the boy in the tattered wolf’s suit, who dropped the cutting of meat and doubled over in pain. Guards surrounding the cart glared, some spitting on him.
The man kicked away the cutting of meat, to muddy to consume now, and leaned over the boy, leering. Hair stuck to his forehead, sweat dripped down the sides of his narrow face. A fly zoomed by him, almost as if he was already dead and it longed to land. Cicadas droned in the tunnel of green trees.
I knew the poison ivy had been a foolish place to hide, but I couldn’t jump out now, or I was done for. If I even scratched myself, the guards would find me and run me through like a suckling pig.
“You know all these meats are to go to the King!” The man’s authority suggested, I thought, captain of the guards. The boy opened his eyes half way, and, still hazy with pain, didn’t reply. This earned him another jab with the spear. He let loose a quick yelp of pain, similar, I thought, to that of a wolf.
“You don’t like that, do you?” the captain leered, and the men behind him laughed. One of the men tore off a hunk of meat and began gobbling it down. Hearing the sound of gulping and swallowing, the boy opened his eyes enough to hungrily follow the path of meat from hand to mouth.
“Are you going to tell me why you were stealing from us?” the captain crooned softly, almost as if he spoke to a little child, although I had difficulty imaging him in the company of a young one that wasn’t cowering in fear.
Still, the boy remained silent.
The captain continued to speak softly, and I must admit I was impressed by his determination as he continued to interrogate the poor boy. Swiveling his spear round in the humid air, he lowered the sharp point near the boy’s cheek. Eyes unfocused, the boy seemed not to notice as a bead of blood popped into existence under the influence of the gleaming spear-tip. The captain slowly dragged it downward.
“I’m going to give you to the time this spear reaches your chin, boy,” he breathed, “which isn’t very long.”
I bit my lip as he dragged the spear slightly downward. The boy still made no audible reply, but I noticed that his hands were clenched, and his toes curling against the pain which he refused to verbally acknowledge. His bright green eyes were now glued to those of the captain’s.
The captain leaned over the boy, and his shirt billowed, exposing a scrawny chest with a meager amount of hair. A small dark bottle was sewn into the inside of the collar. Without a cork, a thin stream of tawny liquid flowed from the bottle and splattered onto the boy’s face. I raised my eyebrows. The captain of the guards—an addict? Nervously, he straightened up and righted his shirt, quickly looking over his shoulder to see if his fellow guards had noticed. They hadn’t. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I picked up some dialogue I rather wished I hadn’t, for most of it was dirty and all of it involved females. My first curled. Those perverts.
Up until now the boy had been silence. As the alcohol splashed onto his cheek, his eyes shone like a pine tree ablaze, and he screamed like a wounded wolf, which I supposed he kind of was. Some of the words flying from his mouth were human—“The dirty drink of mortals—disgusting—so hungry—my blood, red—their blood, redder—” but the rest consisted of wolf-like howls and cries that scrapped the air. I almost had to cover my ears.
The captain of the guard leapt back, looking, for a brief moment, truly astonished, but he recovered quickly. His mouth split in a filthy grin, exposing stained teeth, and he swung his spear at the boy’s head. The boy dodged under it almost inhumanly fast, kicking the captain in the crotch. It was his turn to double over. His fellow guards could only watched, stupefied, as the boy in the wolf suit leapt upon the captain’s back and sunk his teeth into his ear. The captain howled and reached his arms back, attempting to pry off the wolf boy.
The guard who’d teased him before with the meat now leapt down from the wagon; after running his fingers through his hair in an arrogant way, he drew his sword with a black chuckle and prepared to plunge it into the boy’s unprotected back.
“NO!” I shouted, bursting with a flurry of leaves from my hiding spot. The guards looked up in surprise as I ran forward and pulled the wolf-boy, struggling furiously, off the captain of the guard.
“Ah!” He straightened up and pressed a hand to his bleeding ear, eyes shining dangerously. “The little pup has an accomplice, does he?”
It took all my strength to withhold the fury of the wolf-boy. He stamped upon my feet and screeched with rage.
“Let me go—let me go!—Unhand me, you little—”
“After them!” cried the captain of the guard. His fellows leapt from the cart, swords and spears flashing.
“Stop struggling—” I said to the boy. I received a punch in the jaw. “—trying to help—RUN!”
I narrowly avoided a spear. It stuck itself in the ground as I seized the boy’s dirty hand, flying down the path. Daring not to look behind me, I knew the guards were hot on our heels. He tried to yank away from me, but I held tight, trying my best to not to stop and itch the poison ivy now spreading on my entire body.
“If you want to stay alive, keep running!”
The tunnel of trees blurred into a green watercolor as our feet, mine bare and his wrapped in fur, pounded the wet earth. The guard’s shouts were growing fainter, but even so I knew we couldn’t afford to stop. Not yet.
I stumbled as I felt a sharp flash of pain near my right shoulder. I received a face-full of the muddy footpath as I fell, and a rock jammed my cheek. I squealed in pain, mouth full of mud.
“Arrow,” the boy growled. He hauled me to my feet and tugged me along. I followed in his wake like a limp doll, vision blurred at the edges. Warm blood spilled down my back and wet my shirt. I’d never gotten shot before, but I remember thinking it wouldn’t have hurt. Just goes to show how wrong I’d been.
I motioned towards the right as the path veered off onto a smaller one. He pulled me down the path, and we ducked under a small stone bridge. We slammed down, panting, onto the narrow bank, soaking our feet in the shallow stream. I waited for my heart to stop pounding, but it continued for almost two whole minutes. The silence that ensued was even worse. The boy and I glanced at each other.
He clamped a hot hand upon my shoulder, turned me forcefully around, and took firm hold of the arrow protruding from my back. I gritted my teeth. He yanked it out; I couldn’t help screaming.
He clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Do you want them to come after us again?” he said.
I shook my head.
“Shut up then.”
He released me and turned sourly away. The stream sang quietly to itself. A fat fly buzzed near the boy, but instead of swatting it away he snapped at it with chipped teeth—almost like a dog or wolf might. The fly buzzed off and I looked at the boy, puzzled.
“What’s your name?” I asked finally. “I’m Thera.”
He didn’t respond but proceeded to cup water in his hands from the meager stream and clap it to the still-bleeding wound on his face. I could tell it would develop into a deep scar.
“You…do have a name, don’t you?”
“Habian,” he snapped, a slight growl finishing his remark.
I remembered those wolf-ish snarls he’d made before attacking the captain of the guards. The dirty drink of mortals, he’d said. Mortals…
“You look human,” I said carefully.
“No, you look wolf-spirit.”

OMG
*jaw drops, hitting the floor*

I know, right? *stares*

I'm so pleased you guys like it!! Yaaaay! =D Now...time for...

Wolf-spirits, creatures of legend. They only existed on the rustling of old, ink-splattered paper, in storybooks, or traveling the land by word-of-mouth, and not too often believed at that…
“You’re…joking. You can’t be one.”
“Well, I am.” He crossed his arms, but winced a moment later.
“That spear!” I said.
“Yeah,” he grimaced. “I’ll no doubt have bruises by tomorrow.”
If there even is a tomorrow, I thought. Wait—what had caused me to think of something like that? There’d always be a tomorrow…wouldn’t there?
The sticky weather clung to us. Near the edge of the stream was a small stationary pool where a cluster of mosquito eggs huddled. Clouds hung in the azure sky, and the bloody arrow that Habian had pulled out sat halfway in the water; thin clumps of drying blood clung stubbornly to the shaft. All of this brought with it a sense of foreboding, though currently I couldn’t figure out why for the life of me. It was as if a dark storm cloud hung over us.
“So…” I rocked back and forth on the small expanse of pebbly shore. “Why are you wearing that wolf suit? You must be really hot.” I tugged at the neck of my own shirt.
“I have to. Because I’m a wolf-spirit.”
“But you look human—”
“Exactly,” he said stiffly. “I’m trapped inside this human’s body and wear this suit as a reminder of my true form. I swore a vow never to take it off until I regain my real body.” He gave a small howl, and this time I noticed it didn’t match with the movement of his pale lips—his wolf soul cried out, trapped inside an unimaginably insufficient cage.
“How…how did you get out in the first place?” I asked.
Habian snarled loudly and lunged towards me. I edged away, but not quickly enough; he snatched the arrow from the stream and raised it, poised to strike. His eyes glinted dangerously and I reminded myself that although he may look human, inside he was still a wild animal.
He paused and lowered the arrow as the fire died out from his eyes. Hunching over the water, he tossed the arrow away and glared at his reflection.
“I guess…its okay for you to ask. I mean, most of the time people just run away before getting to know me. Never asked that question before.”
“And?” I prompted quietly.
“It…it was supposed to be a rite of passage—but it went wrong, my spirit was cast out. I spent the first couple of days in this body just trying to master its movements.” He wiggled his fingers. “Then I realized how hungry I was.”
“So, you stole that meat.”
He nodded.
“Habian,” I said, biting back the smallest of smiles, “you’ve got a lot to learn about the human world. You can’t go stealing food.”
“But that captain’s a jerk!”
“I know he is.” My fist curled in anger. “He claims to work for the King, but he’s the real tyrant—he has street power, knowledge of everyone’s hidey holes and secret spaces—” my voice caught as a painful memory drifted to the surface; my brother and his first lover, eloping in one of the last hidden corners. The captain had burst in on them, killing them without a second thought. “….the King has none of that. Just fancy robes and coaches. Sometimes I think he’s unaware of what’s really going on. If he was, he would help us out.”
The sky tore open and a light drizzle of rain fell from the sky. We got to our feet and stepped out into the cool rain; Habian pushed back his wolf’s hood and let it slid down his neck, closing his eyes. I splashed in a puddle, then stopped to look at him. He’s not smiling, I thought.
As I gazed on his face, a great sadness swept over me. He’d never even cracked a grin during his time in this human body…my mother, father and two brothers were all dead. The lovely times we’d had could no longer be regained…
“Let me guess,” I said, coming up to him. I tried to take his hand, but he pulled away. “You made a vow not to smile until you get your body back.”
“Yes,” he said solemnly.
“You said….that people run away before they get to know you.”
“Yes.”
“Well, Habian,” I said, standing on tip-toe to see into his eyes, “this time I make a vow. I just met you, and I know I like you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You…you do?”
“Yes. My vow is this: I vow to help you get your original body back, whatever it takes. The rest of my family is dead, so this is the least I can do.”
A small sunflower rose up in the midst of the rain.
“Thank you….Thera.”
He ran away into the whispering rain.
“Wait for me, Wolf Boy!”
I chased after him.

Wow, Janeen. I like it.

This is seriously good, Janeen. Are you writing it here as you go or have you already finished it elsewhere? You should totally publish this. It's better than most books I've read. You've inspired me to write my own story/novel/book. Can't wait for you to post more of this!!!!!!

Same!!

Wow, guys! You have no idea what your encouragement means to me. Thank you all so much! I have a very basic outline with me, but I'm already wondering how the story is going to end, since it begins with the death of Habian...I'll probably think of something.
:)
I told my parents about the story, and they really like the idea, and the fact that you guys love it.

Well, you inspired me to write so this is the beginning of a story I was working on this afternoon;
-----------------------------------------------------
Zeva walked through the misty rain, shoulders hunched and head held low. The low, groaning wind whistled eerily between the abandoned apartment buildings, giving off a feeling of despair. The buildings around her were crumbling, their foundations eroded away. Nobody had bothered to fix them up after the Great Devastation.
Years before, the economy was thriving and almost everybody was rich. Then the Great Devastation came. The stock market crashed, businesses shut down. The government started to print more money to try to help restore it but money started to become less and less in value. Everyone became poor except for those lucky few who managed to escape the havoc. People couldn’t pay for food or heating or clothing. Millions died. Left now are only the strongest.
So Zeva continued walking. She pulled up the collar on her jacket but it was so worn and holey that it didn’t help take an edge of the crisp fall wind. She stared at the disintegrating sidewalk, thinking about where she and Jory should sleep tonight.
At least he’s safe in the place I found today. She thought to herself. Living in the slums was hard. She had to choose her temporary home carefully. Some places were dangerous and rickety, others were already claimed. You had to be careful to pick a safe and abandoned place otherwise you won’t see tomorrow.
A blood curdling scream broke Zeva away from her thoughts. It echoed off the bricks and got louder and louder. Zeva looked up but quickly looked back down. It was probably some unfortunate soul who had ventured into the wrong apartment. The scream came again along with a cry for help. Her head snapped up. She recognized that voice.
“Oh my god. Jory!” Zeva sprinted down the empty streets, not paying attention to any of those around her staring wide eyed at her. “Jory, I’m coming!” She skidded to a stop as she rounded an alley. The outline of a shadowy figure loomed over a small boy. He sat crying silently looking up at the man in fear. Only seven years old, the boy was tiny compare to gargantuan, muscular man. The boy looked up and saw Zeva.
“Zeva! Help me! Please!” the boy’s eyes mirrored hers, round and piercing green. His eyes pleaded with her. Zeva pushed pass the man who looked at her in shock.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he growled at her. His eyes were full of hatred and he snarled at her, showing his yellowing teeth. She could tell he was Scavenger because of his uncombed, unruly, dirt ridden hair, his unshaven face, and his wild eyes. Scavengers were people of the city so desperate that they would kill for food, shelter, clothing, and other necessities.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Zeva snapped back then she whispered under her breath, “Jory, get behind me.” Jory obeyed and inched behind his sister. His big, round eyes gazed at the man in fear
“Oh,” the Scavenger crooned, “Playing hero aren’t we? The big sister, come to save the day?” He pulled a crude-looking knife and grinned. His eyes were that of a sociopath, brimming with anticipation of the act coming. He advanced on the siblings.
“Don’t come any closer!” Zeva warned. She took a step backward, still shielding Jory with her arms.
“Like I’m going to listen to street scum like you!” His grin widened and he raised the knife into the air. A flash of lightning split the air, illuminating the air before plunging the alley back into a shadowy blackness.
“No!” She screamed, holding out her hand to block the oncoming attack. A powerful jet of water shot out of her hand, blasting the man into the street. Both she and the Scavenger looked up in shock.
“Wha-wha-what are you?” The Scavenger scrambled to his feet and ran away as fast as he could, slipping on the slick pavement as he went. Zeva looked at her hand in awe.
Jory widened his eyes in amazement. “How did you do that?” he gasped. He grabbed her hand and examined it where the water shot out. It was smooth and looked like the palm of every other hand. There was nothing special there at all. How had she done it?
“I don’t know.” She responded, still shaky from the incident. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why were you caught in the alley? Why did you come out of the apartment?” She grabbed him and held him close to her. She buried her face in his dirty, in need of a trim hair. She held him in a tight embrace until he gently shimmied his way out of her grasp. He looked so young, so fragile. He shouldn’t be afraid that he’ll be murdered, or starving, or thirsty, or cold, or hot, or anything.
Jory looked up at Zeva with regret in his eyes. “I-I was out looking for spare metal parts, gears and things on the street. I meant to just be out in a second but I just kept looking. I saw something shiny in the alley and went to look. Then he came out of nowhere. I-I was scared Zeva. I’m sorry!” He started to sob and Zeva clutched him closer. The anger and fear in her eyes dissipated into tears as well.
“Shh. Hush there. It’s okay. I’m not mad. Let’s just go home now. We can just forget everything, ‘kay?” She stood up and took Jory’s hand. He nodded and together they trudged back through the dismal streets.
“Zeva?” He asked. She looked down at him inquisitively. He continued, “What are we going to do?” His gaze wandered to her face and then across the landscape.
“Do?” she asked. “What do you mean?” She gripped his hand tighter as they entered to riskier side of the slums. She walked up to the door of an apartment and cautiously entered. She waved Jory to come in.
He followed and said, “Well, now that you have these…powers. Are we just going to keep being poor? Can you use your powers to make us rich?” Jory looked up expectantly, like Zeva would suddenly hand him a bunch of gold.
“I-I don’t know. Let’s just get some sleep, okay? Maybe we’ll talk about it in the morning.” She rubbed her hand against her temples. He nodded and lay down on the rug they used as a mattress. Zeva wrapped a threadbare blanket around him. She hopped in next to him and cuddled up, tucking him into the crooks of her body. He dropped off into sleep quickly but she couldn’t sleep. Thoughts swirled around in her head.
How did I do it? What does it mean? Can I use it to help us like Jory thought? Why is this happening to me? Why here? Why now? She sighed and tried to get some sleep. Closing her eyes, her mind slowly succumbed to a restless sleep. Her dreams were occupied by visions of herself, the Scavenger, and the stream of water.

That was really neat! A great start for a story. Have you ever written anything else before? I like it.

It's fantastic that I inspired you!! That's awesome :) I'm glad I could help.

Creeping onto the path, we hurriedly walked fifteen paces or so; when we were sure the captain or his guards weren’t hiding anywhere near, Habian and I broke into a full-fledged run.
We came to a halt, panting heavily, on the outskirts of a nearby village fifteen minutes later. The houses frowned in the increasing rain, and the people seemed about to collapse in on themselves.
“Dunno how …you humans….can run in these bodies…for so long!” Habian gasped, flopping down on the road and fanning himself. “Only two legs…”
“Let’s see…if we can secure a cloak for you,” I panted.
“W…what? I don’t need a cloak, I’m fine.”
“Habian,” I said, “you can’t expect to go around dressed the way you are and not attract attention. Remember, the captain of the guards will be looking for you.”
“He will?”
“Yes! You stole from him, and attacked him; he’s not going to just go home.”
“Darn, I was hoping he would.”
I scanned the shops, squinting through the rain. We were both soaked by now; I added finding a place to stay on my mental checklist.
“There’s a promising-looking shop.” I pointed to the sign that creakily swung above the door: a dress and cloak were carved into the dark wood. Pushing our way through the crowd, we made our way towards it. A passerby trod on Habian’s wolf tail; he growled and spun around, but I put a hand on his shoulder.
“It was an accident,” I said. “Surly proper wolf-spirits make them, too?”
“Proper?” he said, hair on his head raising like a dog’s hackles.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—Habian, wait—”
He darted into the shop. I followed. He pretended to be examining a dark blue cloak when I approached.
“Habian, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” I said quietly. “I make another vow: never to say anything like that again. You are a proper wolf’s spirit. Who else could…” looking around, I lowered my voice “…bite the ear of the captain of the guard?” I grinned, but dropped it when I saw his face.
He stormed to the counter and slammed down his cloak of choice. The lady held out her hand impatiently, and, seeing his puzzled look, sighed: “Ya need money, wolfy.”
“I am no ‘wolfy’!” he snapped. “What’s money?”
I groaned. I’d almost forgotten.
“Sorry, but….we can’t buy that today.” I grinned at her, flapping for Habian to exit the shop. He didn’t.
“Why can’t we get it? What’s money? Hey, don’t push—!”
I took him by the arm, dragging him by the rest of the costumers, who had begun to stare.
“The twerp don’t know what money is!”
“My goodness, what is he wearing?”
“Thera, let go!”
“Come on.”
“But—”
I shoved open the door and pushed him outside. I dragged him into a shadowy alley.
“I don’t understand, couldn’t we just take the cloak?”
“No. It’s complicated. See….money is like…it’s like…” I scratched my head. How could I explain the concept of something as human as money to a wild wolf?
“Money… they’re small round coins, and you trade them in for things you want. Depending on….something called the price, you give the people behind the counter different amount of coins.”
“Trade?”
“Um…an exchange.” I cast around wildly for an example he could understand. “Um, let’s say if the leader of your wolf pack wanted the, um, leg of a kill, which he didn’t have, so he’d give away the head for the leg.”
“We wolves would never do something as primitive as that, but…okay. I get why we can’t get the cloak. Kind of.”
I sighed. “Well, ‘kind of’ is as far as we’ll get right now. Next is finding a place to stay.”
“I know a place.”
“Where?” I asked, surprised.
“The woods!” he said, so loudly that a couple of people stared into the ally curiously. I groaned and dragged him further in.
“Another thing: humans don’t sleep in the woods.”
“Why not?”
“It’s…it’s just not done!” I said. “Besides, the captain of the guards might be there.”
“He wasn’t there when we snuck out…”
“I know, I know, but—it’s a thing called double-checking!” I said.
“What?”
I gripped my hair. “Never mind.” I darted to the entrance of the ally and peered out, looking for an inn, but the tall, shaggy heads of citizens prevented me from seeing all the signs. There was the cloak shop, which we’d just came out of, a bar, and a sword’s smith, but that’s all I could glimpse from here.
“What does an….inn look like?”
“What?” I asked, jumping as Habian stood next to me.
“That shop from before had a design above the door—of a cloak, and the thing you’re wearing.”
“It’s called a dress.”
“Yes, right—so I was wondering if an inn had something like that above it?”
I nodded. “A picture of a bed—that’s a kind of…of a pile of leaves, only jumbled together, in a sack, and on four wooden legs.”
“I think I get it….”
Habian, being taller than me, scanned the signs above the heads of the people. He came back down a minute later.
“No sign of a leafy-bed thing.”
I groaned. Why, I thought, did he have to be a creature with absolutely no knowledge of human things? He could’ve been a cat, maybe. At least cats were around people.
“You stay here, Habian. I’m going to see if I can get a better vantage point from out there.”
“Vantage point?”
“Yes—now just stay here.”
I ducked out into the crowd, weaving around the tall adults. A cart rattled noisily past me. I approached the bar; the doors flew open with a bang and a skinny man led his companion, bawling drunkenly, out onto the street. Holding my nose, I gave them a wide scope. The skinny man wheeled his companion to a nearby water barrel and ducked his head in, out, in and out, before guiding him away. I slowly walked up to the water barrel. A horse turned around and gulped out of it thirstily. Shoving him away, I located the lid of the barrel and slammed it down. Climbing atop the barrel, I had a better view of the nearest buildings.
There was a sword’s smith, a baker’s, a shoe shop, a map-maker’s shop…there! An inn. Even the carving of the bed on the sign looked comfy. Hopping down from the barrel just in time for it to get used once again by the drunken man, I jogged towards the alley and Habian.
“Come on, I’ve found us a place.”
“Is it the woods?” he said, and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“No, Habian,” I said, and, smiling slightly, led him to the inn’s entrance. I knocked.
“What!” The door was flung open by a large, bristling man with a mustache. Habian jumped.
“Um, we’d like a room, sir,” I said, and the unpleasant situation of money rose again to the front of my mind.
“For how long?”
“J-just the night.”
He held out his hand, just like the lady at the shop. Habian glanced at me.
“Do we have any—” he whispered.
“Money!” the innkeeper barked. “One hundred seventy-five rings.”
“Um…we don’t have…any.” I lowered my head.
He considered us for a moment. We might have to sleep in the woods after all, I thought gloomily.
“I suppose I could let you have it free,” he mused. “But just this one night! I’m only doing it because the last lodger of room seventeen was a lunatic, raving about man-eating carrots.” He ran a sweaty hand over his face. “The way business is going, I might just go to the bar and forget about everything….”
He shuffled aside to let us pass, and led the way up the stairs to room seventeen. Habian stared at the set of creaky stairs for a while, but I succeeded in getting him up them. He kept glancing nervously at the roof above our heads.
“Can’t see the stars,” he muttered. “Or feel the wind.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We can leave the window open.”
The innkeeper swung open the door to room seventeen and stomped away without another word. Habian and I stared at the small room.
“There’s only one bed,” I said at last.
“Well, I’m certainly not sleeping in it,” Habian said, going to sit by the window.

I enjoyed the man-eating carrots part! You're really good at creating suspense and characters. Thera and Habian really come alive in your writing. Oh, and to answer your question, I kind of write. I've never done anything major, just a couple of short stories. This is going to be, hopefully, my first novel! When I write more I'll post it. That was my first chapter.

That was a cool first chapter! I enjoyed it, very intriguing.
It's awesome you like my suspense sequences! And that the characters come alive. You have NO idea how glad I am to hear you say that! We're going to a Memorial Day Parade tomorrow, but I hope I can write more of my story. (I'm still searching for a title).
Gotta go to bed now, unfortunately, or I'd write more :P
See you tomorrow! =D

Yep! Oh, you said you were looking for an ending. Well, since it started with Habian's death, why not have it end with his birth? Maybe he was cursed at birth and that triggered him to stay in human form. So Thera then has to find the person who cursed him to avenge him or something like that...

Chapter Two:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I brought you here today, to talk about something that is very near to my heart!” Harold Van Granger clasped his hands, eyes brimming with false tears. The crowd roared with approval and he continued, “I am going to tell you, about my beautiful and precious, Genesis International. As you know, genesis means the origin, the creation, the beginning. That describes Genesis International. Without it, the clothes you are wearing, the houses you live in, the food you eat, would not be here today. Thank the Lord for what we give you and you will be given greatness in return.” The crowd roared again and held up signs reading, “Van Granger + Genesis International = Immortality!” Harold just smiled and stalked off the podium, the sound of millions of adoring fans embracing him in a feeling of supreme power.
Harold sat relaxing in a chaise lounge chair by his ultra rare deluxe swimming pool. In his hand he held a martini and in the other he held the latest Smartphone. The slightest dab of sunscreen was visible on his nose. The phone buzzed and he quickly answered it.
“Go for Van Granger!” He exclaimed just a little too loud into the phone. “Oh, oh yes. I’ll be there. No worries.” He jumped up from the chair, leaving his drink behind. He hopped into his limousine and ordered the driver to drop him off at the Fifth Street Café. The sleek vehicle maneuvered its way through the busy streets of Tyrantia. The driver halted in front of a polished café on the north side of town.
“Thank you, here’s a tip.” The driver looked at him gratefully but his face soon fell when he realized he was given a penny. Van Granger laughed quietly to himself as he approached the café.
The café was one of the newer ones in Tyrantia. It had sleek metal doors, recently shined and had an old fashioned looking awning. Van Granger smiled and shook his head. Of course only Liam Darker would have chosen this of all places to meet. He opened the door and spotted his red hair immediately.
“Professor Liam Darker!” he called from the entrance. “How good to see you. What was it that you dragged me here for?” Harold sat down in one of the parlor chairs and ordered a coffee.
“I’ve just heard the latest Scavenger report, sir. It’s just that one report was…strange. You should take a look at it.” The man looked uncertain. He gingerly handed over the file and excused himself from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
Harold accepted the file and watched as Liam fled the café. He smirked and examined the report. His eyes widened with every paragraph. This wasn’t possible! It was simply not possible. It is not possible to shoot water from your hands! This girl, this vermin must be sterilized immediately. He took out his phone.
“Dr. Times? Ah, yes. I have news for you, very good news. I’m going to bring in a, let’s call it, a scientific specimen for you to dissect. Yes, it has, unusual powers and we can’t have that, can we?” He clicked end and grinned. Nobody challenges Harold Van Granger. He stalked out of the café without paying and called his limo. Once home he went directly to his laboratory.
“What does it mean?” he screamed aloud. His words echoed off the sound proof walls. “Who does this girl think she is? Does she just think that she can waltz in here and take over my company? Is that what she’s planning? Oh, oh no. I just can’t let that happen. She will be terminated as soon as possible.” That thought immediately calmed him. “Yes, once it’s done everything will be right as rain, good as new, perfect.” He rubbed his temples. “But how? How can I find one measly, homeless girl in this whole city? I need a trap. Yes, that’s it! Free shelter of free food should do the trick, especially if she has beloved family!” He manically cackled like the evil scientist he was.
“Harry? Harry, dinners ready! I made your favorite, lobster!” A chirpy voice called from the top of the stairs.
“Coming dear!” he replied, slightly less on edge from his rant. In his mind he kept repeating, “she will be terminated and order will be restored.” He sat down and blew out a long, slow breath. His wife looked at him, concerned, but didn’t say anything out of experience. He looked down and saw a bright, red, fresh lobster sitting on his plate. He smiled at his wife, Rita, and dug in. His pounding headache began to cease and he slowly became groggy.
“I’m heading up to bed, darling. It’s been a long day.” She nodded but remained silent. He dragged himself up the stairs but he couldn’t sleep. He paced the room, searching for answers. Nothing came to him. He felt the anger boil up inside him again as he reminded himself, nobody challenges Harold Van Granger.

Cool!

Kirsty ~ Don't Blink! wrote: "Yep! Oh, you said you were looking for an ending. Well, since it started with Habian's death, why not have it end with his birth? Maybe he was cursed at birth and that triggered him to stay in huma..."

Pretty interesting idea! Thanks =)

; ) Just trying to help a fellow author!

Chapter 3

Squinting in the early morning sun, Zeva sat up on her elbows, careful not to wake up Jory. She gazed at her hand once more as she relived the previous night. She took a deep breath and got up as quietly as she could.
The apartment she had found wasn’t much. It was basically four crumbling walls and a holey roof. At least it was something though. The windows, long bare of glass, let light puddle on the floor. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Zeva paced the room, cautious to not break the creaky floorboards.
She opened the door and crept out, but stayed close enough in case of an emergency. Zeva closed her eyes and cleared her mind. Slowly, she put her arm out and thought hard about water. Nothing happened. She sighed and began to walk back.
Confused, she began mumbling to herself, “What happened then that I can’t do now?” She was almost home when she heard a scream and immediately remembered Jory. But the scream didn’t come from the apartment or Jory for that matter. She whirled around and ran towards the sound. She almost ran into the victim, a woman in her 20s by the look of it.
The woman was sobbing and grabbed onto Zeva for dear life. She managed to say between sobs and gasping breaths, “We have to run! He’s coming!” Nobody had to tell Zeva twice. It was probably another Scavenger. She grabbed the woman’s hand and dragged her down the streets. The woman was wearing a skirt and heels, not the best running clothes.
“Take your shoes off!” Zeva yelled to the woman over the wind. She nodded frantically and threw them off. She wasn’t your average person to be wandering the streets on this side of town. The apartment neared and they raced inside, slamming the door behind them. Zeva leaned against the door while the woman slowly slid down it, still crying. Zeva motioned to Jory to stay quiet. He nodded but looked at the woman in bewilderment.
Once the coast was clear, Zeva managed to ask, “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you here? What happened? Who were you running from?” The woman looked up at her with large round eyes and dried her tears with her sleeve. She stood up and took a deep breath.
“I’m Marvelia Transum, but you can call me Marv. I was down here, in the slums, to see if I could find a girl. You see, my brother, Harold Van Granger, wanted to terminate a girl with extraordinary powers but that’s not right. I wanted to find her and protect her but then a man came. He tried to mug me but I tried to run. Then you came and-!” She was cut short by a sound like a thumping on the door.
“It’s him!” Marv cried. “It has to be!” Zeva pushed Marv and Jory behind her. The thumping got louder and louder until the bolts creaked and a man stepped through. It was the Scavenger that had attacked Jory. Fear overtook Zeva and before she realized what she was doing she pushed out her hand and a burst of hurricane force wind shot at the man. He stumbled backwards into the street and he grinned.
He grabbed a radio from his belt and spoke into it, “Boss, I got ‘er.” His grin got wider as he just sat in the middle of the road. Zeva’s eyes widened. She had given herself and her brother away.
“It’s you. Oh my god, it’s you!” Marv cried out. “Come on! I’ve got a safe house nearby!” She sprinted out of the room surprisingly fast. Zeva grabbed Jory’s hand and pulled him along. Panic came into the Scavenger’s face as he got up to chase them. Zeva pushed out her hand again, praying it would work. It did. A jet of white-hot fire burst from her hand just inches away from the man. He gasped and ran in the opposite direction. Zeva saw a van opening up its doors. Marv climbed inside.
“C’mon! You’re almost here! Just a little faster!” Marv urged frantically, seeing two more men on the pursuit. Zeva lunged inside and was pulling in Jory when a hand grabbed out and snatched Jory out of her hands.
“Jory! No! Jory!” Zeva screamed but the van doors had already closed. She pounded against them with no avail. “No! Jory!” her screams died down into whimpers. Marv pulled Zeva close and rubbed her back gently.
Suddenly Zeva pulled away. “We have to go back! We have to save him!” she pleaded with Marv but she shook her head.
Tears welling up in her eyes, Marv responded, “It’s too dangerous. Plus, you’re hurt. Look.” She pointed to a long scrape on Zeva’s forearm. The man who got Jory must’ve had a knife and scratched her while he took Jory. She hadn’t noticed the pain or the bleeding until now. Blood dripped onto the floor, a sickening maroon color, staining the pristine white van.
“Where are we going anyway?” Zeva sniffled. She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and tried to control her breathing.
“I have a safe house in West Tyrantia. It’s completely hidden. It was originally a hiding place for slaves during the time of the Underground Railroad.”
“The Underground what?” Zeva asked, skeptical.
Marv looked confused then understood, “You didn’t go to school did you?” Zeva shook her head. “Well, during the time of slavery in a country then called the United States, slaves would try to runaway so they could be free. They had to get up north so their slave owners couldn’t catch them. Getting there was hard though. So some people organized the Underground Railroad. It wasn’t underground but it was a connection of safe houses so that the slaves could have a place to stay until they got to their final destination.”
Zeva looked thoughtfully at Marv. “Are you calling me a slave?” She grinned and Marv grinned back, shaking her head. It was comforting, Zeva thought, to have someone like Marv in the time of a crisis.
 

That was cool! Have you seen Avatar: the Last Airbender? (Fantastic show.)Your story kind of reminds me of that :)

For his first night with a roof over his head, Habian was calmer than I thought he’d be, staring up at the pearly stars and sniffing the air occasionally. The chaos of the day left no room for talk or wonderment, and I fell asleep quickly, only waking once as I heard the creak of a staircase: the innkeeper had gone to the bar.
***
Habian and I were jerked from our sleep just as the sun peeked over the trees. Geese squabbled loudly out in the street, horses whinnied, a jar broke—and someone screamed. Scrambling out of bed, I joined Habian by the window and looked out onto the pale street below.
A milk maid had dropped a jar of milk; the front of her dress was soaked. That wasn’t the reason for her screaming, however.
The Captain of the Guards disembarked from his cart—the same meat-laden one from the day before—with a few of his fellows. Habian and I exchanged glances.
“Quite screaming, woman, whatever you’ve done, we’re not here for it,” he said irritably. “Thought we might be, later. Today we’re looking for—”
We heard no more of what he said as the door to our room was flung open; the innkeeper stood there, very red in the face.
“Out! I’m not having two thieves under my roof any longer!”
“We’re not thieves!” I said as the innkeeper dragged us to our feet, pushing us out into the narrow corridor. Habian caught my eye.
“I am,” he whispered guiltily. “Sorry.”
I clapped a hand to my forehead. That meat!
The innkeeper shoved us down the stairs; we tumbled painfully down the crooked case and thudded to the bottom in a cloud of dust. Habian helped me to my feet. I brushed most of the dust off his wolf suit.
“You didn’t actually eat the meat,” I whispered, “or take it that far, so maybe they’ll let you go.”
“Maybe,” he said grimly. “I doubt it.”
“You two, stop chatting and get moving.”
Habian, the innkeeper and I went out into the cold street. A few of the store owners, in the process of opening up shop for the day, stopped and watched. I wished they wouldn’t. We halted before the Captain, glaring, but he gave no sign of having even encountered us before. The innkeeper hunched next to Habian.
“You two ruffians are guilty of theft,” the Captain began.
“Two of us?” said Habian.
“Silence! You and your companion stole a cloak from Mistress Hemming’s shop yesterday, and you’re going to pay for it.”
“But we haven’t money,” said Habian.
“That’s not what he means,” I told him grimly, under my breath. “He means prison.” Then, louder: “Sir, we haven’t stolen anything.”
“So, you’re liars also,” seethed a voice. The lady from the shop—Mistress Hemming—stormed towards us, scattering the geese who pecked for morsels on the street. “If you didn’t steal that dark blue cloak—”
“—why was it in my inn?” growled the innkeeper. My heart sank as he swiftly pulled the cloak, the one Habian had wanted so much to buy, from his pocket. For a moment, even the Captain of the guards looked surprised.
“How’d you fit that thing in there?” asked Mistress Hemming.
“My pockets are bigger on the inside. Simple enough enchantment,” said the innkeeper. “If you’ve got a problem with it, shut your trap until later—I want to see some punishment for these two right now.”
“But we didn’t steal that cloak!” I said angrily.
“Yeah. She said we didn’t have enough money, so that’s why I couldn’t get it.”
“But you wanted to, didn’t you?” said Mistress Hemming, glowering at Habian.
“Yes, but—”
“That’s where thievery comes in!”
“It wasn’t us!” I protested. If we didn’t get out of this soon, we’d find ourselves in a prison cell before the sun reached its zenith.
The Captain crossed his arms smugly. “You wanted the cloak, couldn’t buy it, and the next day it’s in the in the inn. Guilty.”
“No!” I said.
“Guilty,” said Mistress Hemming.
The six guards surrounding the Captain’s cart all raised their gloved hands. “Guilty.”
“No,” Habian said. His words became slurred. “No, I won’t….we didn’t…” He stumbled as if he were drunk. I caught him.
“Habian, what—?”
“I’m not going to prison!” he howled, half in my ear and half at the sky, and, writhing out of my grip, he clamped his hands over his mouth as if withholding vomit. He swayed unsteadily and made his way towards the water barrel by the bar, dragging me with him. Out of sight of everyone else, he pulled me into the stinky interior of the bar. We crouched down behind the door.
“Habian—”
“I’m fine, that was just an act. I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“We were framed.”
“Of course we were framed!” I hissed furiously.
“No,” he said, “not the way you think. Last night, near the window I smelled some very…human things, and most of them came out of this bar—alcohol and vomit—”
“No need to elaborate on that,” I said quickly.
“One thing I smelt wafting out of this bar definitely wasn’t human,” he said. “Wasn’t even animal.”
“What was it?”
“The smell of magic—kind of spicy. Someone’s been drugged by a magic drink—”
“The innkeeper!” I gasped. “He said he wanted to get tipsy because of the bad business at his inn.”
Habian nodded. “I’m guessing the Captain of the guards bribed the barman to slip a potion in his drink.”
I peeked carefully out of the window. “He seems fine, no sign of a hangover or anything….wait a minute. People get hangover from normal drinks. A drink spiked with magic, though….”
“…probably wouldn’t leave any visible signs.”
“It was him,” I realized, looking at Habian in horror. “He stole the cloak and hid it in the inn, and he’s not going to object to us getting taken away! It’s because of that drink.”
“Hey!” yelled the guards by the cart. “Are you done throwing up yet?” They roared with laughter.
I hauled Habian to his feet, and we unwillingly made our way out the bar and towards the small group, walking as slowly as we could.
“The innkeeper said, ‘the way business is going, I might just go to the bar and forget about everything’,” I whispered to Habian. “Those were his exact words, and they way things are going right now, I’m willing to bet that he probably won’t remember these events by tomorrow.”
“That’s the power of magic,” Habian said darkly as we came up to the group. He wiped his mouth and tried to look sick.
“Everyone agrees,” said the Captain, grinning. “Guilty all around.”
The innkeeper nodded mutely. He wouldn’t be able to say a word.
I looked Habian out of the corner of my eye. We couldn’t go to jail, that wouldn’t do at all; how could we find his true body if we were rotting in a jail cell?
I looked the Captain of the guards directly in the eye. “We know what you did with the drink. Why are you so determined to split us apart?”
He didn’t have time to answer, as furious as he looked.
“NOW!” I yelled.
Habian leapt at the guards surrounding the cart, biting and clawing. He kicked a thin guard in the face and slammed other one in the mud; this one jumped up and withdrew his sword, but I snatched it from his hands and smacked him in the head with it before scrambling onto the cart and taking the reins.
“Yah!” I cried. The horses snorted and began to gallop away.
“He’s got a cross-bow!” Habian yelled, looking over his shoulder at the Captain. A bolt thudded into the wood near his hand. Habian went to crouch at the front of the car. Tongue between my teeth, I strained the reins and made the horses turn a sharp corner as another cross-bow bolt drove itself into the wood.
“Faster!” Habian cried.
“This isn’t as easy as it looks! You try it!”
“I’m a wolf!”
“Brace yourself!” I cried. “Bridge ahead!”
We thundered over a rickety bridge; the poorly-repaired end collapsed into the river below just as we reached the other side. The guards, the Captain, the innkeeper and Mistress Hemming danced madly near the destroyed end of the bridge; someone shook their fist, but by then we were too far away to properly see or hear them. Habian and I exchanged triumphant glances as we galloped away.