Disclaimer: I do not own Lara or any other Tomb Raider characters. I'm writing this for fun and not for profit. I just happened to play AoD and this stupid story wouldn't go out of my head. Therefore, you can say I'm exorcising myself. The story might contain some AoD spoilers. Cursing. Explicit scenes. The works. You've been warned…

Please note: The following is an optional chapter, meaning that it's not relevant for the story itself. The actual story starts with chapter 2, which should be chapter 1, as this is only a prologue, and…I know, pretty confusing, huh? Just read it first or skip it altogether and start at chapter 2. It's up to you. Reviews, even negative ones, are very much appreciated.



When the shouting starts, Oreille goes and hides under the veranda. I crawl in after him, although I know I might get a smack for ruining my good shirt, but I think this must be le Requin Sale shouting, and that means he's found the dead chicken. I've told Oreille a million times to leave the chickens alone, but he won't listen. We lie very still in the dark and I'm hoping Baba will tell le Requin it was an opossum that got the chicken, or a lion.

I hear the sound of big feet coming closer, and I put my hand around Oreille's snout, but still he lets out a low growl. He's wagging his tail, so I know it's not le Requin Sale coming. Oreille isn't afraid of anything, excepting le Requin Sale.

A pair of boots comes to halt in front of my nose.

"Madou, Madou…Looks like you're in big trouble…"

I peer out to see if he's talking to ME. He isn't looking down, but there is no one else around. He smiles and goes off to the shed where he keeps his bike.

After a moment, I crawl out and follow him, making sure no one sees me.

I ask him, "Are you going into town?"

He nods.

"Can we go with you? Please?"

I'm wanting to get away from le Requin, but I'm also hoping Marie-Céleste will see me on the bike.

"He will kill Oreille!"

"Well, maybe that will teach Oreille not to go hunting those chickens. Bad dog," he tells him, bending down to pat his head.

I think that means Yes. I pick up Oreille and put him into my shirt, pulling at the collar so he can stick his head out. Oreille starts licking my chin.

He lifts us up and puts us on the bike.

L'americain has been here for a few months now.When he first arrived, everyone was a bit afraid of him. We don't get many whities here, they all go to the Hotel at St. Tommé beach. Marie-Céleste says he is poor and that's why he cannot stay at the Hotel. But he cannot be, because no one else has such a wonderful bike. Le Requin Sale says he just appreciates being on his own in a comfortable house, and that's why he has rented the old hut off him. Comfortable house my foot, says Baba. My shed is more comfortable than your hut, with that roof full of holes like a colander.

Le Requin Sale built the house. It's just a room with a thatched roof. Baba says the next hurricane will surely blow it away, but many hurricanes have passed and the house is still standing.

It's as solid as if it was made of rock, says le Requin.

I think maybe he built it for the chickens, but realized then it would be too far away to go every day to collect the eggs. It's a good walk away from our village. L'americain seems to like it, though. But there is no road going there, that's why he has to leave his bike in our shed. We do not have any chickens.

"Nice T-shirt," he tells me as we pull out to the road.

I smile as wide as I can, because that always makes him laugh. He says I look funny with my two missing teeth. I've told him it was le Requin who knocked them out, although it's not true. They just fell off. Marie-Céleste tells me I will get new ones eventually, with little frills at the edges, but I hope not. Frills are for girls.

The T-shirt was his before it was mine. He gave it to me because I liked it so much. He said it would be way too big, but I told him I'd grow fast, so he said Okay.

It has a face on it, someone who's called Kurkubain. L'americain told me he was a very famous singer, out there in Ah-mérica. L'americain's name is Kurtis.

Here's what I want to do on my first school day next year: I want Kurtis to bring me there on his bike, while I'm wearing my T-shirt with Kurkubain. I think that will impress even Marie-Céleste with the frilly teeth.

We arrive fast into town. We pass many people on our way there and I wave at them all because I'm hoping they'll go and tell and then everyone will be afraid to smack me in case I get Kurtis to smack them back. When we arrive, he buys me an orange, and cigarettes for himself. I ask if he'll let me have one, but he says No, they'll make me sick and you're too young to smoke. Then, we go to the post-office. We have to leave Oreille outside, because last time we were here he peed on the floor and the woman from the post-office told Kurtis next time you'll have to wipe that off with that letter of yours. She's very fat.

He's got a letter. He gets quite a few. Some are good letters and some are bad. I can always tell by his face.

We go outside to read it, but I can't, because it's in anglais, which is what people speak in Ah-mérica, and because I have not learned to read yet.

This time it is a very bad one, because he is very silent after he reads it.

Marie-Céleste says men don't cry and that's how you know you're a grown-up at last, when you just can't cry, no matter how hard you're smacked.

I know better, now.

When we get back, Kurtis says he'll talk to le Requin Sale about the dead chicken and not to be afraid for Oreille. I would like to tell him I'm more afraid of him leaving for Ah-mérica, but I don't know how.

Two days later, he is gone, and so is his bike. Baba tells le Requin it's because that roof is like a colander. I'm hoping le Requin won't be putting his chickens in there now, even if that would mean that I could let Oreille run free again, but then, I'm hoping he'll come back. He has forgotten the letter, I found it where it had slid behind a loose board. I hide it very carefully in my secret place, which is a very good secret place that no one knows of. Marie-Céleste says if you want to know so badly what's on the letter, why don't you go to Ah-mérica and ask Kurkubain.