*Jacklyns POV*

My vision cleared and sure enough, I was having a pitchfork waved in my face. I went cross eyed while looking at it, but regretted it. My head was pounding and the ringing in my ears was not helping. I made a move to get back in the truck, but apparently the person waving the pitchfork like a lunatic didn't want me too because they shoved me roughly back to the ground. My vision blurred again and the pounding worsened. If only I could get some Tylenol.

I sat there dazed for a few, very slow minutes before my hearing started to be free of the ringing. When it did, I wished for the ringing to return.

"Just who in the name of the Lord do you think you are girl?" The voice was a bit raspy like it belonged to an old person and was cracking as who ever it was, shouted at me. I looked up past the pitchfork and saw an old man with tan wrinkled skin, threadbare cloths and a wicker hat. His eyes at the moment were less than friendly. I opened my mouth to reply but another figure appeared next to the one with the pitchfork. This person was completely different.

For starters, she was a woman. She was short, kinda roundish, looked old but not that old. There was a motherly presence about her. She wore a brown woolen dress with an apron and at the moment seemed to be out of breath. "Tom what's wro- oh my goodness! Are you alright?" At first I thought she was talking to the old man- whose name was apparently Tom, and I wasn't the only one judging by the guys smug-ish face. But it changed into one of anger- directed at moi, when she surged past him and kneeled beside me. In a motion of light panic, I flinched away from her and tried to disappear by digging my body into the door of the truck.

I'm white, trucks white, she can't see me. Then again I was also leaning on the tire and it's black so that didn't work. First the woman seemed hesitant at something, but quickly got over whatever it was and started to gently examine the nice gash on my head. I relaxed, but not by much, casting suspicious glances between her and the old man. His name may be Tom, but I'm going I call him Mr.Pitchfork since he seems very attached to it.

My glancing must have caught the woman's attention since she glanced back at Mr.Pitchfork and sighed. "Tom, go to the castle and see if you could convince some of the guards to come down here. I'm sure the Baron would want to be notified of this.

He looked like he was about to argue, but a hard look from the woman and he seemed to forget whatever it was he was going to say. Turning on his heels, he ran off, more like hobbled though. Turning back to me, she frowned as she examined the wound.

"Can you stand?" I don't know, you tell me. I leaned against the truck, using my legs to get my body to a standing position. After leaning against for a few more moments, I pushed off it lightly and pitched forward. Lucky me, the woman was prepare for that. After she caught me, she put a firm grip on my right arm and I leaned against her as she steered me in a direction. After a while, when my head stopped spinning, I was able to release myself of her grip and walk on my own. I stumbled here and there, but I was fine.

Eventually a small, thatched-roof house came into view and she led me inside. There was a no floor except hard packed dirt and wooden utilities. Straw coverings on top of cots served as beds and the only metal appliances in the house was the cooking wear. She had me sit on the side of the bed while she went to a bucket and dipped a cloth into what I assumed to be water and came back to me, dabbing away at the gash.

I don't know how long she spent at that, cleaning it, getting up, cleaning the rag and coming back to repeat the process, but eventually she seemed satisfied with her work. "Are you hungry?" I thought for a moment and decided against it. I was a little hungry but I don't think I could handle eating, not the mention the thought of taking her food. I shook my head and she said that if I wasn't going to eat, I might as well sleep.

Leaning back in the cot, I stared up at the ceiling while I listened to the woman work around the kitchen. Just when I started to drift off, I realized that I had never asked for the woman's name.

>>>------->

I woke up to the sound of someone pounding on the door. Least I think I did. For all I know it could have been an elephant tap dancing on a wooden floor. I opened my eyes just as the woman opens the door to three men, all wearing chain mail armor. Over the armor they wore a red surcoat and a leather belt holding a scabbard which looked to be holding a sword with another held a dirk. I bet you all that they also had a small dagger in their boot. Two of the men held ash spears with wicked war heads while the third had leather cuffs connected by metal chains.

I stiffened and shrank against the wall. They don't look like they were here for the wonderful smelling food that I just noticed. A fourth figure pushed his way into the light and took a step into the house. Welcome back Mr.Pitchfork.

They spoke in low time for a few moments before the guard with the cuffs took a few steps toward me, the cuffs open and ready to be put on me. I didn't resist seeing as there were more of them than me. And the fact that they had swords and I didn't.

The woman didn't look too pleased about the whole situation though. Tom was comforting her as we passed her and out the door. "I'm sure the Baron will be kind to her Martha." I was walking in front of the guard so when I suddenly stopped, he barged into me, causing me to stumble for a few steps. I glanced back and gave my version of a bow, "Thank you Martha, for everything." With that, I was unceremoniously prodded by the guard I start moving in the direction of the castle again.

>>>------->

It was a long and very quiet walk to the castle. The guards didn't seem the type to chit chat with prisoners so I didn't bother trying to learn their names or anything. When the castle came into view, I knew that the car accident was real, just that I was currently in a coma or something. It stood proud on top of a sloping hill, it's walls made out of impressive stones. I gaped up at the tallest tower as we crossed the moat an made our way o the keep. Inside was nothing but spiral after spiral of stairs, a few doors to some mystery rooms, then some more stairs.

Finally we reached a door like any other and they opened to a small, but airy room with benches on one wall and a desk on the other. Beside the desk was another door. Behind the desk was a thin man with thinning hair and a thin amount of humor. I say that because he didn't look please to see us. Before he liked say anything, the guards opens the other door and lord and behold, there stood four men. One looked like he was just woken up, the other three in mottled cloaks armed with two knives and a bow, the fletching of their arrows were barely seen from the cowl of their cloak. In the center of them all was the last person I expected to see.

"Hey Avis, fancy meeting you here."