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Setting: Medieval Times Something tickled Sarah's nose. She lazily swatted at it, barely able to move. She felt so groggy. It seemed a chore to even open her eyes. But when that same something tickled her nose again, she forced her eyes open. Something was in front of her. She couldn't make it out in the darkness. After a few moments, her eyes began to adjust to the lack of light. The thing in front of her moved close again. A rat! She shrieked and scooted backwards, coming fully awake. Where was she? She glanced around the small, damp room. A faint light came through a tiny opening in the door. High-pitched squeaks reached her ears, and panic filled her. Rats! Everywhere! She scooted into one corner of the room. "D.K.! Are you near?" Nothing. A tear rolled down her cheek. "He'll come. He'll get me out of here." She remembered a knight charging D.K.. Then something happened, but she couldn't quite remember what. What if D.K. was dead? She shivered from heartache, fear, and cold. The door of her prison rattled, and she realized someone was coming in. She jumped to her feet. "D.K.?" It had to be him. Two men dressed entirely in black entered. They even had on black hoods! She tried to see their faces, but couldn't. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice shaky. One of the men dropped his hood. "You have been declared a traitor of Lord Durwin." Sarah gulped. "I--I don't understand." "Sir Chadwick captured you. He has declared you a traitor of our Lord. An enemy of our people. You, along with the others, will pay for your treachery." "Others?" He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. The other guard silently followed them. Sarah tried to glance back at the second guard. It had to be D.K. It just had to be. The first guard yanked her forward. Soon they joined a procession of people. Prisoners. And guards--lots of them, leading the line of poor souls outside. Her included. Outside wasn't much brighter than inside had been. The wet, dreary day seemed to mirror the sadness of the prisoners plight. Sarah's throat went dry when she saw the gallows. No! This couldn't be happening. Where was D.K.? She looked around frantically. A crowd of people had gathered, pushing their way closer, but she didn't see D.K. among them. A line of prisoners was led onto the wooden blocks. She tried to pull away from the hooded guard tugging her to certain death, but his iron grip couldn't be broken. "D.K., is that you?" she whispered to him, hoping--praying--it was, and that he had a plan. "Silence!" the guard ordered. Sarah's heart sank. It wasn't D.K.. She knew his voice, and that wasn't it. She was going to die. But maybe she was already dead. Can you be killed if you're already dead? She didn't know what to believe anymore, or what was happening to her. Too bad she couldn't just fall asleep at will, then she'd wake up someplace else--safe. If she died here, would she still live in the other time periods? The guard--the executioner--placed the noose over her head. Sarah glanced at the other prisoners, and saw her own fear mirrored in their eyes. Shouting from beyond the castle walls drew the crowd's attention. Before Sarah could discern what was happening, she was whisked off the gallows by the hooded guard. It wasn't D.K.. Why was he saving her? Or was he? She struggled against him, just wanting to get away--wanting to find D.K.. The man's hood fell away from his face as he dragged her into the woods. Sarah gasped. "I know you! Where's D.K.?" "We don't have time. We must leave this place now." Sarah followed him to a horse he had tethered nearby. "Where's D.K.? You must tell me!" "He was trampled by Sir Chadwick's horse." The image of the charging horse exploded in Sarah's memory. "No!" Her head pounded. Trampled? Dead? She felt herself falling--falling into a familiar darkness, where she felt nothing. |