Hunted

I'm attacked by man-eating pineapples

Choices. They're hard, complicated things. They're decisions, and compromises. Things that pull you in different directions, making it hard to know what is right. Nobody likes choices. But sometimes not having a choice is much worse than having one.
     That's what happened in my case.
     It all started when I was attacked by man-eating pineapples. There I was, standing on a high cliff, wind flowing through my hair as a dark abyss streached out below me.
Thunder roared in the sky and lighting flashed, illuminating the eight foot pineapples twirling their swords in their stick-like hands.
     My own sword was lying somewhere out of my sight, having being sent flying from a blow by the leader of the pineapples, and my only defence was a meat claver I had stolen from one of the pineapples I had cut down.
     Yellow juice dripped from the blade, giving off a sweet smell making my mouth water. My eyes assessed the situation, taking in the five visious fruits advanving slowly.
The drop behind me moved closer as I backed away, knowing I didn't have a chance against so many. I may have been an impressive sword fighter for my age, but not only did my opponents outnumber me but they were also larger.
     I took a step backwards and felt the rock underneath give away slightly. I jumped forward - falling off a cliff was not on my To-Do-List - and swung the cleaver to keep the pineapples away.
Still, they pressed on, without a sign of slowing down, and they forced me to back away.
My foot met air, and I spun my hands in circles, struggling to keep my balance. The knife fell from my hands, clattered to the ground and slid off the edge.
     I cursed under my breath, as I teetered on the precipice. The leader pineapple stalked over to me, the hard cover covered with rain. With one hand it waved to me and with the other pushed my chest.
     I lost my footing and bent back, and with nothing to catch me... I fell...
... and landed on my floor.
     I sat up, groaning, my hand rubbing the back of my head. Though the carpet had made the fall somewhat softer, the impact still hurt.
     I rose onto my elbows, squinting at the bright sunlight sliding across the floor like a cat creeping behind its prey. It shone from the window, and from the height I suspected it was early in the morning.
     I would have plenty of time before someone was sent to wake me up. Climbing up, back onto my bed, I chuckled at my dream. I had no idea my imagination could create things like fighting pineapples!
     After rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I swiftly changed out of my night clothes, and pulled on my pants and an off-white lace-up shirt. I placed my feet in leather boots, tying them from the front.
     Not even bothering to brush my hair, since it would remain in its raven black messy pile, I opened my window and stuck my head out.
     A wall of fresh air hit me like a sledgehammer, and I breathed in the sweet smell of the flower gardens below listening as the birds twittered around as they flew past my window.
     Then, a familiar high screetch ran through the sky, and a black shadow covered the sun. Feathers shifting in the wind, sharp beak open in a scream, the falcon plummeted downward, heading straight at me.
     While others would have ducked, or ran away, I leaned farther out of the window and stretched out my arm.
     Kayla landed silently, her sharp claws digging into my shirt, but not piercing my skin. I smoothed her feathers and she pecked at my nose affectionately.
     I rescued the Peregrine Falcon about a year ago, when it had been learning to fly and fallen to the ground, breaking her wing in the process.
     I found her, starving and cold during one of my trips in the forest. These trips were frequent - in fact I would head out on one more than four times a week - and so I brought her back and took care of her. We immediately became the best of friends, with her following me everywhere I went.
     I brought her up in secret, in my room, because I had known that my mother would murder me if she knew about Kayla. Which, in fact she was very close to doing when she did find out.
Kayla had just barely learnt to fly then, and thank God she had, because otherwise she would't have escaped the woman and her broomstick.
     Gently flapping onto my shoulder, from her perch on my wrist, Kayla looked at my bedroom door suspiciously, as if expecting it to be hiding an angry Queen behind it.
     After one last gulp of fresh air, I walked away from the window. I made sure to be quiet, not wanting to notify anyone of me being awake. But then again, since I had fallen onto the floor, there was little chance people thought I'd still be asleep. It was a miracle that I hadn't fallen through the floor and into the council room below.
     I felt hunger gnawing my insides, and once my stomach rumbled, it sent Kayla flying on top of my closet, scared.
     I laughed at her fear, and walked over to the side of my bed where my sword lay. It had a simple leather grip, a cross piece and a light but strong blade.
     I had received it on my birthday from the servants, without a doubt the only people who actually cared for me. They had been saving money for years just for that single present, which showed how much they really cared about me.
     I spent most of my time in the forest - much to my parents displeasure - but otherwise I enjoyed joining the servants and helping them in their daily routines.
     I walked over to the waterbasin on one of the tables in the room, and splashed some water onto my face. It was cold, and made me shiver, but after it I was refreshed.
     I gave Kayla one last wink, before I opened my door and headed outside.