Hehe I'm such a downer ;D ;P Am I kinda like the 'one nobody likes because she points out all the obvious problums and makes people uncomforiable' in the group? Or am I gonna turn into the bad guy? *suspence* Naw, dought it (or do I..?) I LOVE IT SO MUCH KEEP WRITING I LOVE MY CHARACTURE AND EVERYONE'S CHARACTURE, SCYLLA'S ESPECIALLY! Lol I wouldn't have the courage to talk back to a voice coming from the wind itself. 

KEEP WRITING CL!

Oh, I keep on writing instead of doing my essay for english, and books of math homework, and studdying for finals...does anyone else have finals? I HAVE MINE IN A WEEK STRESSING SO HARD. Except for the fact that I don't have the will to study for more then 5 munits at a time....

Oh that reminds me, starting next week if I just dissapear from the face of the earth for awhile, its finals weeks, so wish me luck! I'll be back fully (ill post here and therer sometimes) in maybe a week or two, when break starts, for me. I live in a ski town, so our brakes are always later because the ski companies don't want the locals crouding up the slopes and chasing away the tourists. We DONT EVEN GET LABOR DAY OFF! Sometimes goverment....sometimes....

Please try to post! We miss you!

The promised part 4! ...now I have to sleep. 

Part Four

~~

The sun beat down into Claaws’s eyes, its rays bright and fierce. Blinking, she tried to block it out, but a red haze still lingered when she closed her eyes. Sighing, she opted to simply squint her eyes and continue on her blurry path. The whole group of girls had been walking for what must have been an hour or so, and still they hadn’t reached the ocean Scylla had spoken about. It was clear that dry throats and overheated minds made people much angrier than they would have normally been, so when Little Reader accidentally bumped into Claaws, it was the one straw that broke her back. Whipping around, she snarled, “Watch out, kid! Try to at least think about where you’re stepping!!” Little Reader’s eyes widened, her lip beginning to tremble, and Claaws immediately regretted what she’d said.

“Oh… shoot… hey, I’m sorry,” Claaws said, catching Little Reader’s arm as she started to back away. Claaws bit her lip, trying to think of how to apologize. “I didn’t really mean that… I’m sure everyone’s temper is a bit high.” To Claaws’s great relief, Little Reader lifted her face and smiled weakly, shaking her head to flick away tears.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, sighing. “After all, it’s hard to connect to people you just met…” Intrigued, Claaws fell in beside her as the group tromped along, reluctantly curious to know more about this girl. For a second neither of the two said anything, then Little Reader’s eyes suddenly flicked to something around Claaws’s neck, her eyes lighting with interest. “Ooh, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to Claaws’s dragon necklace. “It’s very pretty."
“Oh,” Claaws said, looking down at it in surprise. She had forgotten she was wearing it. Picking up the small, obsidian-black carving, she held it up to the sun and watched the bright light sparkle off the black scales, its white-opal eyes glistening. “Yeah. I found this at a store once, figured it fit pretty well,” she smiled, as her large wings rustled in the wind. Little Reader grinned, glad to see that Claaws no longer had her, well, claws out, and nodded with her.

“It does look cool! Kind of like Darkstalker,” she added, eyebrow raised. Claaws started, caught unawares.

“You read that too?” she asked, feeling delighted at Little Reader’s excited nod. “You big into books?” she asked, before she realized how obvious a question it was. “O-oh, ha, yeah… right, Little Reader? D’oh.” Little Reader grinned, waving off Claaws’s apology.

“It’s okay. My favorite genre is mystery, too, especially Agatha Christie. What an incredible writer! I adore the way she portrays her characters. Sometimes I swear--” here her voice dropped, as if she was passing secret information. “--Sometimes I think she’s better than Arthur Conan Doyle.” Claaws smiled back, no longer feeling any trace of anger in her.

“Oh, how could you?” she teased, seeming to be shocked. “Say such treacherous words!” Little Reader laughed back, and not once more did Claaws think of her dry throat or the hot sun as she chatted with Little Reader.

“...And so, those are my thoughts on the prevention of the desertification of Iraq--” Claaws was cut off mid-sentence as a shout from Scylla alerted her to something. Quickly the group fanned out, and Claaws happened to notice that Icy was actually the one who had first spoken, though her shout had been overshadowed by Scylla. The two glared at each other, eyes sparking, before they were all distracted by the breathtaking sight ahead.

Spreading out in front of the twelve people was a sparkling blue ocean, its water glittering as wave after wave barreled over the water, crashing thunderously on the banks. For a second, Claaws couldn’t seem to find any words as the sharp smell of sea air wreathed inside her nose, twinging at her eyes with the prick of salt, and she wondered how she hadn’t smelled it earlier. Maybe she did--she distinctly remembered the scent of salt in the clearing where they’d first met, but she had passed it off as nothing.

“Wow…” St Owl. finally whispered, brushing her whitish hair out of her eyes. “I… was this here the whole time? How is that even possible?”

“What?” Eria broke in, her eyebrow rising. “Why isn’t that possible? I mean, oceans do exist in the world. If anything, this helps us figure out where we even are--it’s a coastal place.” St Owl. shook her head, concern in her eyes.

“No, that’s not right. Remember back when we were talking to--hey, what are they called?” St. Owl stopped to ask, looking around at the other girls. “The-the one who spoke to us, the voice in wind, the whatever?”

“The narrator?” Ember suggested, recalling what she’d said hours earlier that day. A murmur of assent swelled from the group, but just then Joan stepped forwards, her eyes shining.

“Hey, I know!” she said, grinning. “I think it’s a cool one, too. I mean, they never gave us a name to call them. Also, I just thought of a cool name. What about--” Joan paused here, looking around. Scylla nodded, seeming to assume the position of leadership and giving permission to Joan to speak. “Vox. It means ‘voice’ in Latin, which I think sounds cool.” Here she colored slightly, instinctively scratching behind her ear. “At home I used to play around on translating sites, looking up how other words sounded. Latin’s a beautiful language, it always made such cool-sounding words. So… what do you guys think about ‘Vox’?”

“Latin is an interesting language!” Booksy Owly chirped, stepping forwards to stand in front of the group. “And it seems… I don’t know, right somehow if this narrator person has a name instead of just being some--heh- ‘vox in ventum’, voice in the wind.”

St Owl tapped her foot impatiently, her nose wrinkling. “Okay, sure, Vox it is. ANYways, back to my point.” Her face once again creased with worry as she shared her deductions.

“What’s strange and troublesome about an ocean being here is what this place is referred to. When Vox was talking to Joan earlier today, they said these words:” St cleared her throat, recalling the phrase from memory. “ ‘Don’t be so quick to assume, Joan! If your first goal is escaping my Garden, you’d do best to tread with caution and always keep an eye over your shoulder!’ Think about this--Vox called it a garden. A garden. You never find oceans in the middle of gardens. So… so what if this isn’t an ocean at all? What if this isn’t even a garden?”

Heavy silence met her words, thick with the ominous meaning. St Owl turned, casting her gaze over the rolling waves. “Just something to think about…” she said quietly. Then a rough sound shattered the silence, a sound like stone scraping over stone. Claaws turned, her ears twitching, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It sounded like it was resonating everywhere. But a second later, she… well, she found out where it was.

With a sudden harsh ripping the ground beneath Booksy Owly’s feet crumbled away, plummeting her off the ledge off the cliff. It all happened too fast for Claaws to react to, but she still jerked in Booksy’s direction, her hand grasping as she watched Booksy vanish behind the cliffside, a scream escaping her lips. Scrambling forwards, she peered over the cliff in horror, but already she couldn’t see Booksy’s body. The rest of the group clustered around her, and she heard a choked, “No…” from Ember. Stumbling back, Claaws closed her eyes, trying to smash out her failure. Sure, she didn’t know these people well yet, but… no…

Shivering, Claaws pulled herself away from the cliffside, a trickle of fear running down her spine at the thought of toppling to her death, just like Booksy. She opened her eyes just a crack, but they shot open as she saw a small, feathered shape shoot up off the cliffside, its wings momentarily slicing through the sunlight. Claaws skittered backwards as a tawny-white owl landed in the middle of the group as they stared at, wary. There was a flash of light and a rushing of wind, and all of a sudden Booksy Owly was splayed on the ground in the center of the group. A gasp rose from the girls, and Ember rushed forwards with tears in her eyes, clenching the shocked Booksy in a tight hug. Claaws may not have said it out loud, but she too was deeply relieved Booksy was still alive and well. But… how? And why exactly had she been an owl?

“Hey, what’s this?” Ember asked, pulling back to sit on her knees. Booksy looked down around her neck, her eyes widening in surprise.

“I don’t know,” she replied thoughtfully, holding the tiny charm up to the sunlight. “It’s a barn owl. Does that mean?... what is this?”

“A little present, from Vox to you,” a voice suddenly rang out behind the group. Claaws whipped around, staring at the sky. Vox chuckled, the same chiming laugh as always. “Oh yes, I quite like the name. I rather wish it was my true name, to be honest. And as for the owl?... well, it adds a twist to our tale, don’t you think? Go on, try it out, Booksy Owly.” Booksy froze, looking petrified, then reluctantly put her hand on the owl charm. With one flash, there was an owl hovering in the air, its wings beating, with the next a dazed Booksy standing there again.

“What does this mean?” Scylla called into the wind, her voice raised above the sudden howling. “Are we all supposed to be able to do this?”

“Wait and see, high-flier,” Vox replied, their voice just audible above the din. “Wait and see… I believe you’ll this story to be just beginning…”

@CL, would it be too late to change my animal to a humming bird?