Immi had been sleeping very nicely, well, until she was taken in the middle of the night. Some type of mercenaries had taken her under the cover of the deep darkness known as nighttime. To Immi's dismay, Atlas and Italzi were so tired they didn't even hear them, granted, they were awfully quiet. She tried to burn the abductors but they put fireproof gloves on her hands before she could do anything. It was no use.
This was it.
She was too frightened to squeal or make any type of noise. Call it shock, or perhaps a feeling frozen in time.
For a group their size, the mercenaries would take about a day to get back to Crane. That gave a day for Atlas to come to save her, she estimated. And Italzi, Alana, and Cindie, of course.
The mercenaries didn't treat her like the Dutchess she was. They harassed her, made her eat their leftovers, and made her sleep on the wet ground. She desperately wanted Atlas to come to save her from these barbarians.
Atlas was right; they shouldn't have taken her by way of Crane. Atlas was always right, and Atlas wasn't there. Immi started sobbing and sobbing. Where was Atlas? Where was her rescuer when she needed him?
YOU ARE READING
Exile
FantastikI wrote a "book" with some old friends, starting in 7th grade and completing it in 8th. It tells the tales of an exiled girl on a mission to overthrow a horrid tyrant, with accomplices, situationships, and an enemy who may not be what people think.
