Chapter 4

Shanna was not having a good birthday.

The Freshman came to a stop next to the rock, gazing down at the unfamiliar landmark. At least, she hoped it was unfamiliar. If she had passed it in the dark the previous night, that meant she was going in circles. Going in circles when lost was bad. Going anywhere when lost was bad. You were supposed to stay put. Let others come to you.

What were you supposed to do when the entire world vanished on you?

Letting out a deep sigh, which did nothing practical, but did make her feel a bit better, she plopped her butt on the rock. Her feet ached. Her legs ached. She was thirsty. Hungry. Tired. The patch of ground she had gotten a few hours sleep on had NOT been comfortable. Everything about that moment was horrible.

She was missing that morning's math class, though. That was something.

Shanna's eyes again went to the trees and plants around her. They weren't normal. She hadn't realized that, in the dark. A pine tree was a pine tree. In the light, though, with the growing knowledge that things were horribly wrong, she could see and accept that this didn't seem to be Earth. Or it was a very strange part of Earth. That weed sticking up by her foot, for example. All the leaves were on one side of the stalk, sticking straight out, with two small flowers splitting out from the top. And that tree, over among the pines, had a green trunk. Almost like it was, in fact, a very thick stalk. The thick green daughter trunks winding around it with large berries on them were just icing on the cake. Or berries on the ice cream.

Ice cream ... God, she was hungry. Not hungry enough to try and eat any of that stuff, not yet.

She knew this wasn't a dream. Whatever it was, this was real. Partly it was the pain that told her this. Shanna didn't hurt in dreams. Mostly, though, it was the scary White guys who had attacked her.

Shanna didn't dream of White people.

The first time she had actually realized this, late in high school, she had spent a good week wondering if she was some kind of racist. After all, she was surrounded by Whites. Most of her friends had light skin. You'd think they'd sneak into her dreams just by osmosis. But, no. Every person she had ever dreamed of, that she could remember, was as brown as she was. Why?

The answer she had finally come up with, which, for now, satisfied her, was that she was just seeing extensions of herself, of her family. Home and comfort, to her inner self, was a sea of soft brown skin, holding her close. A nightmare would be those people betraying or mistreating her.

Or she was a horrible secret racist. Psych 101 would probably sort it out, if she ever made it to her next class.

Shanna put her hand to her forehead, fingers pushing her glasses back up before moving to rub her now throbbing head. Maybe she should start yelling. Screaming. Even if the bad guys came, the horrible, frightening men in their red and silver armor and sharp swords, maybe they wouldn't kill her. They hadn't killed her in the hall. They'd gone into that guy's room. God, she had been so scared. She could still feel the man's hand covering her mouth and nose, the tip of his sword touching her throat. He could have killed her. Raped her. The look one of them had given her...

Her eyes closed, body shuddering. Shanna just wanted to go home. Not back to school, to her dorm, but home. Unconsciously, she clicked the heels of her sneakers together. There's no place like home...

The horn blast startled Shanna into wakefulness, body on its feet seemingly instantly. She had some defensive training, how to fight off a mugger stuff mostly, and she found herself in one of the ready stances she'd been shown. Her hands were also in front of her as if she was holding a broadsword. That was stupid. She wished she HAD a broadsword, naturally. A real one, or even the dull ones she'd practiced with the times she'd hung out with those re-enactors. If only so she didn't feel so helpless.

Standing there, body tense, she heard the sounds of fighting. Of metal on metal. Of men yelling, groaning. It was close. Almost next to her. Should she run? She should run. Away. Now.

A man stumbled out of the trees not a yard away from her. It was one of the horrible men, in red and steel. Chain mail, though, not the breastplate of her attackers. His helmet was like half a football, a metal cone with something coming down to cover his nose. On either side of that, two eyes that were ... wide, yet ... dead. His sword dropped from his fingers, tip touching the ground, hilt falling over towards Shanna. The stranger's knees buckled, his entire body leaning away from her even as the sword hit the grass near her feet.

There was a yell. From the trees burst a creature, sword in hand. Without thinking, Shanna reached down for the sword before her, jumping backwards the instant her hand grasped the hilt. The newcomer swung its sword at the falling man, stopping the motion in surprise as it became clear a second killing blow was not needed. Shanna raised her new weapon before her. The creature saw the movement. Their eyes met.

It had green skin. That was the first thing she saw, the only thing she saw until she gave herself a mental shake. It was human. Or humanoid. Slender. Like a dancer. A dancer clad in thick leather on its upper body, a leather kilt hanging down to its knees. It was close to her height of five and a half feet, ears long enough to perhaps add a half inch to that as their pointed tips reached up above its shaggy black hair. Its eyes were perfectly round, black with pure white pupils.

Black eyes. Did that mean a black soul?

It leapt at her.

Shanna's weapons training, such as it was, came from two places. One was those re-enactors slash live action role players she had spent some time with while she was dating Frank, and for a while even after that. Swinging that heavy broadsword had been fun, at times more so than dealing with Frank's smaller personal sword. Because of such experiences, she held the sword she had with two hands, despite it obviously being meant for one. It just felt right. And light, compared to what she was used to. As the black souled creature came at her, its long sword slicing down, she swung her own up to meet it. Steel clanged on steel, her teeth clenching as her arms trembled with the impact.

The second source of her training was a pair of YouTube videos of some guys fighting with light sabers.

She had watched those two fight over and over. One reason, of course, what that the guy with the glasses was damned cute. He was gay, yes, as she'd found out tracking him down to this movie podcast he did, but she could change that. Shanna had the half-written fanfic to prove it. The other reason she loved those fights was the style. Not so much the actual light saber stuff, but what they did apart from that. The two guys, whenever there was an opening, would punch and kick each other. The idea wasn't to score style points, it was to beat the other guy however possible. Punch them in the kidney, kick them in the knee, whatever. Just win.

Before the green guy could react to her block of its attack, Shanna kicked her foot out, catching him in the leg. She jumped back.

The look the thing gave her was one of surprise, those black eyes seeming to get even wider. Whether it was impressed or upset, she didn't know. What she DID know was that the arrow that suddenly appeared in its neck, just above the top of its armor, made the thing's feelings on any particular matter rather moot. Two more of the creatures appeared from the trees, three arrows almost as quickly embedding themselves in their green bodies.

Shanna turned.

Humans were rushing towards her. Human men with red coats and silver armor, wooden bows and steel swords.