A.N—Disclaimer: I own nothin’ of Stargate Atlantis. Zip. Nadda.

Another A.N—This is my first crack at Stargate Atlantis fic but I think it’s a good crack. Whether or not that’s what you think you’d have to see for yourselves, and tell me afterwards in (hopefully) your reviews.

Another another A.N—This is not an Atlantis-team centered fic but please keep your minds open!

Enjoy!

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To tell you the truth, I don’t remember much from my former life, only that it flowed and blended together in one giant memory of good weather and carefree-ness that eventually blurs into nothingness. The rest of my childhood is unimportant strings of which I can’t really remember. I was way too young to remember my name; all what I have now if my new name. I don’t remember my mother at all, but my father . . . his laughter. I still remember his laughter.

Back then, the Stone Ring hardly ever glowed, but when it did, it was only simple farmers or traders coming through. Nothing . . . dangerous.

Until the day what stepped through the gate changed my life.

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The child ran out of the hide-covered lean-to toward the rocky beach at the bend in the small river. It didn’t occur to her to look back. Nothing in her experience ever gave her reason to doubt the shelter and those within it would be there when she returned.

She splashed into the river and felt rocks and sand shift under her feet as the shore fell off sharply. She dived into the cold water and came up sputtering, then reached out with sure strokes for the steep opposite bank. She had learned to swim before she learned to walk and, at four, was at ease in the water.

She laughed with her high, child voice, utterly at ease with her surroundings as she played with the pebbles on the ground, amused with sorting rocks. She had no cares or worries as she did this, enjoying the sun and warm wind. The girl played for a while, swimming back and forth. She let the current float her downstream where the river widened and bubbled over rocks. She stood up and waded to shore, finally feeling the urge to return home.

The girl made her way up the bank and was almost to her lean-to when suddenly the Ring activated. Off-hand curiosity flickered a bit in her, but it quelled easily. Probably just some traders, she thought uninterestedly.

But that was before the whining sound of ships filled the air as the demonic crafts flew through the air, causing the small camp to become up heaved in screaming chaos! She looked about in confusion as the shouts suddenly morphed into horrific screams. The girl was filled with more perplexity than fear as ship after ship appeared through the Ring, their unearthly whine harsh and raucous.

“Quickly, child! Inside!” gasped her father, suddenly appearing from within the lean-to. Without waiting another word from the girl he grabbed her and forced her in. Now fear flooded in the child as well as apprehension.

What could make her father so afraid?

A sheen of sweat could be seen on the man’s face as he kneeled in front of the girl, his hands tight and shaking on her small shoulders. The sounds of screaming and crying resounded outside the flimsy shelter walls. The noise of the flying crafts shrieked their presence.

“Listen to me, child—there is little time. STAY HERE AND DO NOT MOVE. Understand, little one? Don’t leave the hearth no matter what.”

“Father? What’s happening?” asked the child tearfully, staring up at her father’s wild eyes.

“Stay here,” he only commanded, bending his head forward to touch his forehead with her tiny one. “I will return for you—I promise.”

And with that, he rushed out of the tent, leaving the stunned child. She stared uncomprehendingly at the way her father had left. Where was he going? Why did she have to stay? Shaken and heart hammering in her throat, the girl crouched underneath a root-rack, her still-damp sandy-coloured hair covering her eyesight. The noises of peoples’ screams were lesser now; fewer and fewer people cried out with fear and panic. Even the buzzing of the ships were less and less, as if they were returning back through the Ring.

She was afraid to move, almost afraid to breath. She lay perfectly still, eyes wide open, seeing nothing. Where was her father? Why didn’t he come to comfort her?

After what seemed to be longest eternity, the screaming stopped. Simply . . . stopped, as if there was no one there to voice their terror. Even the buzzing had ceased, though the faint gurgling of the Ring indicated that it was still open. Was it safe to come out now? Just as the girl was beginning to unfold herself from the small space, low hisses and rumbling voices alerted her that all was not abandoned.

Something or someone was out there. Hardly daring to breathe, the girl waited in the lean-to, her heart beating rapidly. There were the sounds of someone removing layers of some sort of cart away. Another moment of silence before the sound of a man’s strangled begging and triumphant hissing filled the air. Peeking her head a little the girl saw the silhouette of a figure holding another figure by its throat. That man . . . it sounded like her father! Father!

The oppression of the situation was almost too great to bear. As the figure of her father dangled, the other figure slammed something on her father. The screams before was nothing compared to this! The crescendo of agony that ripped from the man’s lips was nothing the girl had every heard.

Abruptly, silence thicker than blood reigned.

Unable to control herself she whimpered a soft cry out of fear.

Whatever it was it must have heard the girl. Stopping abruptly the figure’s turned in the lean-to’s direction and dropped the shriveled husk of a body. Her heart hit her chest like a hammer as the immense silhouette faced the tent and stepped closer.

The child felt just like a pheasant watching a rifleman draw nearer and nearer, her instinct for flight tearing at her mind. But father told her not to move! Closer it came the hissing sound grew louder. It was tall and to her small size immense and the closer it came the bigger it became. Every heavy footfall became as loud and oppressive in her ears as if she were in an cave. Her breath quickened . . . she tried to muffle it with a blanket, hoping it might go away if she stayed still and quiet. But it kept coming. Closer . . . closer.

At last when she thought her senses could take no more suspense and as the figure loomed over the lean-to, a burst of courage and desperation gripped her. With a fearful cry, the girl bolted out. The brazen sunlight blinded her but it didn’t matter as she flew through the small camp, whatever that had killed her father just beginning to follow her. Direction held no meaning to her. Nothing mattered except for the sole fact that she needed to run and hide.

She tore through the forest, lungs already burning and legs heavy like iron, as the short burst of adrenaline flooded through her body. Trees, rocks, roots, and overturned logs blurred right past her. She didn’t care where she was going . . . or looking. Unable to see the elm root in time, the girl tripped and fell, hard, almost jarring her back to reality.

Everything had happened too fast. Was her father dead? Where were her friends and others of her community? Everything that had given meaning and security to the four short years of her life was now gone. Tears clouded her vision as she dizzily got up on rubbery legs, both knees scraped raw. The sizzling pain made her whimper, but she began to run again, not daring to stop.

A snarling noise did make her freeze, though, as she climbed over a moss-covered log. When she looked up, she stared straight in the face of a bristling forest cat. Oh, it was such a terrible idea to run in the forest! She would have known that wild animals lurked away from the river! Eyes wide with mute terror, the girl was froze to the ground as the two-foot high cat approached.

Its green eyes flashed as it pinned its tufted ears back. Its needle-sharp claws dug deep in the rotting wood, a hissing snarl rising in its throat. The entire culling made it anxious and dangerous, and when this little interloper trespassing on its territory it filled it with wrath. Normally non-aggressive, forest cats left the people alone. But the combined noise and sour-scent of fear from the camp made it hostile.

The girl gripped her eyes shut as the cat suddenly lashed out, catching her left cheek. Four deep, parallel marks were etched deeply in the girl’s face. She shrieked in pain as the paw raked her.

Just before the cat could strike again, whipped into frenzy by its prey’s outcry and scent of blood, a blue blast enveloped it. The cat yowled before it toppled over and hit the ground as if pole-axed. The child whirled in the direction of the blast, baffled and astounded. What had just happened? The child was so sure that she was just about to be clawed to death by the forest cat, and yet she was saved by the strange blue light!

Looking shakily around from her vantage point on the log, the child couldn’t see what had saved her. But as she continued to look in one direction, a rustle of sound caused her to whirl about. So quickly was her movement that she fell straight off the log and into the thick forest blanket of moss. On her hands and knees she was just about to get up when she froze, her heart pausing in mid-beat, her mind screeching to a halt, her breath crashing to a stop.

Indefinitely slowly the child’s eyes began to rove slowly upward from her ground-vantage point from the ground all the way until her neck was craned up and her head tilted all the way up.

He was unbelievably tall to her small frame—probably 6’8 feet tall. His shoulders were spread over his narrow chest with ropey, sinewy power. He held himself straight and dignified—nothing like a sloucher or simple killer. Covering his entire upper frame was a darkly tanned leather garment with a high neck-covering piece, and a thin black belt looping over his shoulders and under one side. He wore black leather pants and a trench coat-like covering over his lower half. He had long, straight white hair that flowed all the was down to the middle of his taunt midriff, a handsome contrast to the darkness of the being’s uniform. But the creature’s face told her it was definably not human. His skin was pale bluish-green with facial slits on both cheeks. He bore no eyebrows. He sported two elegant mustachios on his chin. His pupils were slitted—like a forest cat’s—and his irises were a deep green speckled with bits of yellow. In one hand he held a pistol-like device, probably the source of the flash.

The child continued to stare up at the pale face, unable to look away or move or anything. She couldn’t get up, despite her screaming instincts. She stared at him inert.

The alien cocked his head in a curious posture, eyes hooded and lids half-closed as he continued to exchange gazes with the she-child. After a moment he snorted and walked away from me back through the forest.

For a moment, the child was so relieved that she sunk to her stomach on the moss, relief flooding through her like hot milk. But the child couldn’t understand it. He had saved her from the forest cat! But . . . what he had done in the camp and to her father . . . it just didn’t make sense that he would rescue her from death. He and his kind were the ones who probably came through the Ring, the child thought. By why save me?

As the child stood up in the forest, something hit her. She was alone: alone. Never in her young life had this occurred—she had no one. Her father was dead. The camp was gone or vanished with the whining ships. (As she thought about her father more tears trickled down her face as she sobbed.) No one to feed her or take care of her. The Ring? She had no idea how to operate it. The very desperation of her situation caused tears to well up in her eyes. What if there were more forest cats out there? As if remembering her recent clash with the feline brought back the pain, her cheek began to throb. Already warmth and heat was rising to the area.

But what should she do? There was no where to turn; as her young mind franticly sought out vague possibilities to the best of her child abilities. She was so frustrated and distraught at this terrible weight of uncertainty and confusion. Everything had happened so fast . . . and this strange being killing her father but saving her and sparing her life . . . and the mere fact that she was just a child!

Suddenly something flickered in her mind, probably woven from the mere fact that the pale-faced being was tall enough to be an adult. An adult meant food. Safety. Shelter. It didn’t matter to her that it looked different from her—she was too young to care. If she had been older or more knowledgeable she would have dismissed the very idea at full speed. But she wasn’t. She was a lost, orphaned child with no one to turn to.

Except for the creature.

Filled with a boldness she had never known before, she picked herself up and began to make her way in the same direction of where her strange rescuer went. The hopelessness of her situation made her disregard anything else—it filled her with child determination. Suddenly afraid that she had lost him, she spend up on already spent legs until she reached the striding figure.

She tripped slightly on another root. The noise caused the tall being to stop in its tracks and slowly turn around, eyes tilting down upon her. The child abruptly stopped, looking up at him solemnly, thought suddenly fearful. She hadn’t anticipated his reaction. Now would he kill her? She was so afraid and yet determined that she didn’t run away or cry when the creature lifted its pistol-thing at her, face and eyes expressionless. She gulped and rubbed her bloodied cheek with the back of one hand, but didn’t move. The longest moment passed, but still she didn’t move nor he didn’t fire.

Finally with another snort the pale-faced alien turned around and began to walk away, turning his back on her. Hardly pausing, the child followed the being docilely like a fawn after its mother.

Suddenly the being whirled around and gave a terrifying roar straight in her face, sharp teeth bared and eyes hostile. She backed away a few steps, blinking rapidly, her tiny hands playing on the hem of her torn summer dress. The creature continued to growl menacingly, towering over the child, when he saw that her intent hadn’t changed.

Is this it? Am I going to die like my father? thought the child tearfully. She closed her eyes tight, waiting for the pain of death to sweep upon her.

After a moment with morbid curiosity the girl opened one eye cautiously. Am I dead? she thought, realizing that the creature’s rumbling had ceased to a lolling purr. With moistening eyes the girl watched as the being knelt on one knee at her level, its abnormal face close to hers. So close was she that she could smell its scent; he smelled like cobwebs and maleness, that thick, deep scent of husky strength.

The girl continued to stand stock-still as the paralyzing fear gripped her at this proximity . . . but still did not run. Whatever nerve she had had been tested and tried to its limit, but still she held doggedly on. She now needed him. And he had saved her life.

He knelt down on one knee before her, turning his head in a sort of regard and curiosity. Even on his knee he surpassed her height by a large margin. Unexpectedly, he reached over and took her tiny chin between his sharp-clawed fingers, seeming to examine her face.

Though I wanted to flee or scream I stayed unmoving to let him look. Why hadn’t he killed me? Was he just messing with me? Had he changed his mind? Or . . . was this a test of my nerve? His skin felt just as a human’s but colder, despite the summer’s heat.

After a tense minute the hand the held her firm lifted and reached down from his side to remove a thin black wire. Deftly he tied her small wrists together. The child stood quiet, now more curious that afraid. Her amazement spiked when the alien—with hardly any effort at all—picked her up and slung her on the back of his shoulders! As if she didn’t weigh anything!

Up on his shoulders the girl gasped quietly with the height and the swiftness of the being’s actions. Way up there she could see everything from her new vantage point. She let herself go limp and cooperative. She was in no position to argue, and as she stared down the creature’s leather side she felt dizzy from the height. Even when she climbed the maple trees around the river she didn’t go this high! The creature’s long white hair tickled her nose and smelt pleasant; but she couldn’t place it. It smelled nothing fetid or repulsing . . . just with a metallic musty smell. And of cobwebs.

By now her curiosity was beyond measures for her strange captor. It was insatiable. But she held her tongue as she rode on his shoulders as he strode through the forest with long strides, his lower leather garment flowing with his movement. But even with her curiosity bounding, she was still afraid to a certain degree. Where was he taking her? And why wasn’t she more fearful of him? After all, she was an orphan now that was almost killed by a forest cat and now slung over this humanoid’s shoulders with no idea where she was going! Perhaps the shock of her situation and the forest cat attack and now this numbed her. Or perhaps it was the instinct of survival that kicked in, that her young mind shut down the memory of her father and desolated camp so that she could focus on living.

Her captor made his way back to the camp, where he made walked over to an overturned cart. There, he gripped the back of the young girl’s dress and hefted her down. He took the cable and tied her tightly to the wagon, so that she couldn’t run away. Without looking back he made a beeline to the group of similar others of his kind. The girl suddenly felt afraid and shy at being alone. Was he going to leave her here, staked to this cart, until she died?

Then something caught her eye underneath the cart. She frowned and peered closer. Bile rose to the back of her throat as she recognized the forest cat-claw pendant hanging off the corpse’s neck. Her father . . . He was twisted and old beyond recognition—an old man! A dried old husk of a man! Her breath hitched and caught in her throat as she couldn’t hold it him. The memory of what had happened when the Ring had first opened flooded in her and slammed its cruel, factual face in hers. It threatened to overflow young mind and as she stared at the last connection to her race, she vomited everything she had in her stomach and darkness overtook her.