(Backdated entry)
Ourna tried to mark the passage of time by how many times she slept. After a few, she lost count. She used her time to study her captors. Keriam was fleeting, too afraid to show herself, but Ourna did find her room changed to include a fluffy bed with trees for posts and a living canopy of butterflies. It was clear who had the ability to do that.
She found herself liking Teleri the lioness, despite captivity, and spent long hours talking to her, always having a care of what was said, though the lioness seemed very open herself. Ourna was told of two others in the litter, one dead already of age, having only a lion's life, and the other far too changed to exist this far away from the Wyld places. She was told how the place was made for them, who called themselves Na Teaghlach from a language of the far East. Their fey Father had made it for them after the untimely death of their Mother, and had not seen him since. But for all that, Teleri was closed mouthed about a way out, save that it was through the still unseen Annwyrn, who protected and moved the place.
Ourna even tried to find ways of communicating with Cathair, the lion with intelligence of a man, but both often became frustrated before anything came across.
And always there was the hulking presence of Kierhan, who watched her from the shadows and brought her dinner. Sometimes, he would eat with her, and they would pass a few words. She tried not to feel guilty when she got harsh with him, for though he did try to show some kindness, he was still a captor, and it was still clear he didn't care for what she was.
And then there was the ghost of the past, Rozacia, who Ourna could not shove away.
For a time, the ghost stood quietly next to Ourna, when it seemed the walls of her room had gone to fog. There was a sharp taste to the air, as if someone had salted her very breath. Licking her lips, Ourna was almost surprised to find no salt there. She took another deep breath, and the faint smell of organic rot filtered in. Almost at the same moment, the fog thinned just a bit, and she could see water as far as sight would allow. No river this, it was a power, deep and blue topped with white foam. “It is the ocean,” said the dusky voice. And Ourna could remember the ocean, though she had never seen it.
Ocean. Ourna's heart wrenched in her chest. For all she knew, she was on the other side of Creation from her world. Running her tongue along her lips again, she found salt there, from her own tears. She sat hard down on the floor and wept, long after the fog had thickened to obscure the outside again.
After a time, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up with her tear-streaked face, expecting oddly to see the ghost. But, the hand was thick and callused, and belonged to Kierhan.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, and this time, she believed it. Though she had had a care not to say anything of herself, suddenly it came out like a sudden downpour of rain. The loss of her home, the betrayals, all of it.
He growled angrily when she was done, but not at her. For her. And then, he spoke softly, “Come away. Leave your cares for now. Come dine with us tonight, will you? Feast and games will clear the head.”
What could it harm? “Can I have a moment?”
Kierhan nodded. “I will wait outside the door.”
Ourna waited until he stepped out to start cleaning up, smoothing yet a new set of clothes in deep purple and forest green, and tried to ignore the accusatory looks from the ghost in the corner.
Ourna woke slowly, languidly stretching before opening her eyes. The first thing that was clear to her was that she was naked, some sort of soft fur serving as a blanket caressing her skin. Fluttering her eyes open, she sat up and confirmed that, unless Keriam had changed it in the middle of her sleep, she was not in her own room. The bed was soft grass and fur. Chairs seemingly grown right out of the forest walls lined it with a great armoire the same. Instead of living butterflies, there were bones and furs and skins all over. And the past few hours came rushing back, feasting and dancing and wrestling and….
Springing up, Ourna threw back the blanket from the bed. Spots of blood on the soft brown grass confirmed memory.
She had given herself to Kierhan.
No, he had taken her. It was the plan all along. Ourna could see that now. She backed away from the scene of the crime, wrapping her well-muscled arms around herself. Tricks and lies, everything here was tricks and lies, built around getting her into bed with him. Isn't that why she was brought here in the first place? They must have slipped something into her food. All the kindness from everyone, especially him. He hated her, so it must be all against her. He must be away now, planning now how to get rid of her now that he's gotten what he wanted from her. The ghost nodded nearby. Of course, of course, because she wouldn't have done this of her own free will, despite what memory said. Yes, something in the drink maybe. She wouldn't have betrayed Aniam again…no…the green haired boy. She kept confusing them. She wouldn't have given something to someone else first, not again.
Maybe they were in league with her enemies, despite the pity in their eyes when they all knew the tale. It was all on purpose. Ourna pulled herself out of the chair. Surely Kierhan had a weapon around here. She would need it. She couldn't send her hand out to get them. These she'd have to do herself. If she killed them all, maybe the place would fade and their plan to keep her from freeing her people would go on if not too late.
She had found nothing when he returned with a tray, wearing only a pair of pants. Anger fueled, she flung herself at him with a whirlwind of punches and every ounce of strength. “Lying bastard! It was on purpose, all on purpose!”
Kierhan fought back, some sort of false confusion etched into his face. “What…?!”
Ourna babbled and screamed the truth into his face. He must see she knows now. She let herself glow a bit with the light of the sun. If she was going to die for this, then she'd give as much of a fight as she could.
Finally, he backed her into a corner, pinned her on the wall. “I don't know what you're talking about, and I'll be damned to a thousand hells if I'm going to apologize every day you're here, especially when I…”
“Pretty lies.” She kicked him, and he howled, throwing a backhand at her face. Licking the blood from a split lip, she screamed wordlessly and flung herself at him again, pummeling. He had to die, die for her to be free. That's why none of them spoke of the way out. They all had to die.
A sharp prick in the side of her neck made her turn her head, and their complicity was confirmed. The last sight she saw before blackness was Keriam and Teleri, both with tiny tubes for blowing poisoned darts.
When she opened her eyes to the light again, the rage had faded back to nothing, and for the life of her, Ourna could not understand what had made her think these things, though doubt still nagged. The cool cloth covering her forehead disappeared into a clawed, purple furred hand.
“Welcome back, Ourna.” Teleri's distinctive mashed rasp found her ears. “We kept you asleep for a while.”
“Thank you.” Somehow, Ourna knew she had been done a favor. Suddenly, a rush of heat found her cheeks. “Kierhan, is he…?”
“He's fine. Bruised, but fine.”
Pushing back any thought that he deserved it, Ourna relished a bit in the shame. Surely he'd never come near her again. “Tell him I'm sorry.”
A deep-throated wry chuckle floated to her from across the room. “Your turn, then.” Ourna turned her head groggily and saw him, right side of his face nearly the color of his hair. Amazingly, he approached, and Teleri slunk silently away.
Turning away from Kierhan, Ourna muttered, “I think…I think I was turning…” My guilt for enjoying myself on you, she finished in her mind, but did not voice it. “Going mad, maybe. All the hurt and betrayal, it's hard sometimes not to.
She heard him grunt. “Mother said the Children of the Sun were long mad, and that's why I should stay away. Keep from becoming a slave to a mad Sunchild.”
“I wouldn't blame you, for keeping away.” She turned to look at him, catching his amber with her deep brown, and she winced at his bruised face.
“Are you going to attack me again?”
“I don't think so.”
“Then there is no reason. Besides, if you do, I won't hold back next time.”
As Ourna sat up, Kierhan took her hand in his. “If it is your cares that drive you mad, then why do you want to go back to them?”
“Honestly, I don' t know anymore. For all I know, the others are long dead by now.”
“No. While you slept, Keriam and I spoke with Annwyrn. Though she insists on testing you, she has agreed to move us back to where we found you.”
Ourna blinked at Kierhan. “There is a way out? Why didn't you tell me before?”
“Because they..we..like you, and Annwyrn's tests are dangerous. Besides, it is true that we can't leave while moving.”
“I believe you.” She said it more for herself than for Kierhan.
Both sat silent for a moment, and she kept her hand in his. Finally, Kierhan spoke. “Stay. Stay here with us. With me. Don't go back to the world that hates you, that drives you to madness, that hurts you. We won't.”
Not everyone hates me, Ourna thought as an image of Tremaen floated unbidden to her mind. If nothing else, he was still a tie. “How long until we arrive back?”
Kierhan shrugged. “I don't know. Perhaps a couple of weeks or more in here.” Yes, time flowed differently in this place. Ourna found that she wasn't sorry for the extra time. She wanted to stay here for a while more, where every want could be answered. Where she wore beautiful clothes and danced with no cares. Where there was someone to help her not feel lonely, someone she was powerfully drawn to, who she wasn't afraid to touch or have touch her.
“Then, you'll have my answer then.” Scooting over closer to him, she whispered, pleadingly. “Until then, will you help me forget for a while?”