• Shallow. Faint. Her breaths were silent. Perspiration beaded on her warm skin. The air was thick with humidity and silence. The snap of a branch caused her eyes to shift in the direction of the sound. Her heart beat quickened, the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream as more snapping and heavy footsteps followed the breaking twig.

    The rustling of the bushes made her heartbeat stop for a moment. She was certain they could hear the pounding, the fear that was emitting from her shaking body. The footsteps stopped the sound fading. Sweat rolled down her forehead, her body temperature rising. They were near, closing in on her, surrounding her, waiting for the chance to capture her.

    She knew if she didn't act quickly she would be dead. Her breathing seemed heavy in her mind. It was the only thing her ears could pick up. She shifted her position on the ground; unfortunately, it caused her arms to brush against some underbrush causing them to rustle. Her breathing hitched in her throat, she was sure they heard her. And they had.

    She pushed herself off the ground, and took off into a run. The heavy footsteps were right behind her, gaining in lengths. The plants seemed to part for her, allowing her to move faster, and closing behind her. It resulted in making a gap, a gap that she needed. Her feet were light; the feeling of being free was so close. She was certain she was going to be able to escape.

    Those thoughts however where quickly destroyed when her running ended her at the edge of a cliff. She skidded to a stop, her toes dangling over the edge once she had stopped. She looked down the chasm, the light of the moon disappeared in the darkness emitting from the depths.

    Her thoughts where quickly brought back to the reason she was running. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the red uniforms. The men were standing, guns aimed and ready to take fire. She turned her upper body, her heart beating fast. This was it, she had two choices, both probably ending with her being dead, but it was better than being a prisoner in her homeland.

    A man stepped forward. She stepped back only to almost lose her balance and fall over. The man was obviously a general, or she assumed from his badges and medals of Honor. There was no honor from what she could see at the moment. They were mercenaries, sent to capture her and return her to her home. She wasn't going down like that. She glanced over her shoulder. It was the only way. She had to jump.



    With a deep breath, she turned and fell. Her eyes were closed, a calm smiled on her face, she was going to be free. Gun shots exploded from above, the sound echoing in the chasm as she fell. A burning sensation in her left hip caused her to open her eyes. Her hands instantly went to her hip, her body turning to the side.

    Biting her lower lip to keep from crying, she could feel the warm liquid of her blood seep from her wound and stain her evening gown and shorts. Shots continued to rain down in the chasm, the echoes becoming louder. Another round cut deep into her right shoulders causing her to cry out and fall faster. Two more rounds grazed her skin, creating lacerations in her skin.

    She managed to turn her head towards the moonlight sky. Her head was pounding from the pain, her vision getting blurry from the blood loss. Her eyes squinted, honing in on a round that was aim for her head. This was it, the final blow. She would be gone after this and finally free. She closed her eyes and waited for it.

    Her ears picked up the sound of a rustle, but nothing else. One of her eyes peeked open and she gasped. Two deep blue eyes were staring into her. It was at that point that she realized two cold, but strong arms wrapping around her thin body. The eyes got closer to her, and she could not help but get lost in those eyes.

    The arms brought her close to the strong body they attached. She soon was enveloping in the cold warmth. It was strange though since the person was cold, there was eerie warmth that came within her savior. Her eyes drooped for her blooded was still secreting from her tiny form.

    As she drifted into the darkness of her mind, she thought she could hear a song, a song from her favorite play. The music of the night had come to save her from a note-less world, a world of silence and no colors.

    She felt her savior's cold lips brush against her neck and move up to her earlobe. The voice she picked up was baritone. It was soothing, deep, almost lustful. Her spine shivered from the tone of his voice as the two arms pressed her close to the conductor of them.

    "Sleep my Lotus," The voice whispered, "You will be harmed no more."