50 Winter 513
"You there! Soldier! Knees up!"
Wanda whipped around to face the speaker, just in time to catch a pie to the face. "Knees up, I said!"
The blonde couldn't tell what kind of pie it was, but she had a vague feeling that it was cherry. Either way, it was stuck in her hair, and Wanda pulled at it. "Sorry sir!" she blurted reflexively, peering at the speaker. He was a giant of a man, dressed in what the girl imagined was a Knight's full battle gear. His head was encased in a gilded helmet, but she could glimpse the lengthy whiskers of a beard peeking out from underneath the metal.
" 'Sorry' won't get us rid o' these vermin!"
It was then that Wanda suddenly realized (though it hadn't caught her by surprise) they were standing in the middle of a dusty battlefield. How had she not noticed?! All around them armored people were wrestling with a horde of some kind of massive black winged creatures. The dirt and gravel the struggle kicked up was thick, but Wanda found she could see the entire scene before her plainly.
They were in the middle of some great plain, entirely barren of plant life. Though the sky was a clear blue, Syna was nowhere to be found. Instead, Wanda found her goddess's counterpart hovering overhead. The moon couldn't seem to sit still -- one moment he was dancing on the horizon, the next he was swinging in tight circles directly above the battle below. There was no wind.
Compulsively, Wanda glanced down at her body. Like those around her, she found herself dressed in a protective shell of armor. The pie remnants (she didn't question where the pie had come from) now transformed and molded themselves into an extravagant helmet. The entire metal ensemble was glowing a golden white, but the light didn't touch any of Wanda's surroundings.
All of a sudden, the first man grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes, and a flood of emotions rushed into her system where previously there had been some semblance of indifference.
Wanda felt scared. She felt elated. She felt angry. And disappointed. She wanted to flee, to sink into the sandy ground, to hit something (anything!), to leap forward with a cry of exhilaration. Instead, she did none of those things. She stared into the man's cool gaze.
"Listen," he compelled the girl. "There are blankets here. So many blankets." His voice was intense. "And these things have them. We need to save the trees. Kill the monsters, find the blankets, and we can save the trees!" With that, he pushed Wanda into the fray.
With a startled jolt, Wanda careened directly into the claws of an enemy monster. The thing reared back, roaring viciously through an enormous beak. It loomed over her, black fur matted with blue blood, its four wings furiously beating against the surrounding air.
Zith! she labelled the creature. Really, what else could it have been?
Wanda's heart froze for a second, then pounded harder than ever, pumping adrenaline and blood through her veins. A golden sword materialized in her hand, and she let fly an overly joyous laugh. Fleeing was not an option. She had to save the trees.
"You there! Soldier! Knees up!"
Wanda whipped around to face the speaker, just in time to catch a pie to the face. "Knees up, I said!"
The blonde couldn't tell what kind of pie it was, but she had a vague feeling that it was cherry. Either way, it was stuck in her hair, and Wanda pulled at it. "Sorry sir!" she blurted reflexively, peering at the speaker. He was a giant of a man, dressed in what the girl imagined was a Knight's full battle gear. His head was encased in a gilded helmet, but she could glimpse the lengthy whiskers of a beard peeking out from underneath the metal.
" 'Sorry' won't get us rid o' these vermin!"
It was then that Wanda suddenly realized (though it hadn't caught her by surprise) they were standing in the middle of a dusty battlefield. How had she not noticed?! All around them armored people were wrestling with a horde of some kind of massive black winged creatures. The dirt and gravel the struggle kicked up was thick, but Wanda found she could see the entire scene before her plainly.
They were in the middle of some great plain, entirely barren of plant life. Though the sky was a clear blue, Syna was nowhere to be found. Instead, Wanda found her goddess's counterpart hovering overhead. The moon couldn't seem to sit still -- one moment he was dancing on the horizon, the next he was swinging in tight circles directly above the battle below. There was no wind.
Compulsively, Wanda glanced down at her body. Like those around her, she found herself dressed in a protective shell of armor. The pie remnants (she didn't question where the pie had come from) now transformed and molded themselves into an extravagant helmet. The entire metal ensemble was glowing a golden white, but the light didn't touch any of Wanda's surroundings.
All of a sudden, the first man grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes, and a flood of emotions rushed into her system where previously there had been some semblance of indifference.
Wanda felt scared. She felt elated. She felt angry. And disappointed. She wanted to flee, to sink into the sandy ground, to hit something (anything!), to leap forward with a cry of exhilaration. Instead, she did none of those things. She stared into the man's cool gaze.
"Listen," he compelled the girl. "There are blankets here. So many blankets." His voice was intense. "And these things have them. We need to save the trees. Kill the monsters, find the blankets, and we can save the trees!" With that, he pushed Wanda into the fray.
With a startled jolt, Wanda careened directly into the claws of an enemy monster. The thing reared back, roaring viciously through an enormous beak. It loomed over her, black fur matted with blue blood, its four wings furiously beating against the surrounding air.
Zith! she labelled the creature. Really, what else could it have been?
Wanda's heart froze for a second, then pounded harder than ever, pumping adrenaline and blood through her veins. A golden sword materialized in her hand, and she let fly an overly joyous laugh. Fleeing was not an option. She had to save the trees.
