Chapter 1

Waking up in a forest in the pouring rain was a less than stellar start to this new life. Last time I had materialised in a snowdrift – and when you're oh-so-naked it's a real shock to the system; this was a slightly better situation. My hair plastered itself to my skull and back, falling into my eyes. Usually, it was my only vanity-thick, long, black, strong and straight, it successfully resisted all my attempts to curl or style it. Mostly I just left it alone for fear of enraging it. In spite of the dark curtain, I looked about. Judging by the colour of the leaves and bone-chilling wind rattling through me, I surmised it to be early autumn in a temperate climate. The smell of the air was totally unpolluted-which meant a metropolis was too much to hope for. It was still very much day time, but I knew I had to find shelter from this rain.

I looked about-there wasn't much I could do except start walking. Maybe if I was really lucky I'd come across a cave or a road.

Fortune is a mean-spirited bitch who loves no one (except maybe bankers and oligarchs). I had been walking for an eternity through the forest-there was no end to it. I hadn't even found anything to wear. This was truly wild land. Once, I heard wolves howling in the distance-but they were very far off so I didn't worry too much. But it did tell me that I would have to spend the night in a tree or face the possibility of being eaten in my sleep. I soldiered on until I found a stream where I stopped to fill my achingly hollow stomach with water. As I crouched on the bank, I wondered if the stream to a settlement. At this point I really didn't care so long as I was out of this rain. As I was preparing to wade through the stream, I heard a noise.

It was far off, but instantly recognisable: a horse's scream, rising and falling like a sick trumpet. It was one of the worst sounds I'd ever heard. Then came the screams of men and the high-pitched ring of metal striking metal. More screams.

I knew it was a battle, and one that involved horses and-more importantly-sharpened metal. I was a puny twenty-one year old student from England, in my birthday suit, without a prayer. Walking into a battle to ask for some clothes wasn't smart. So I sat down again by the stream and waited for the battle to end. I might be discovered in the aftermath, but it was slightly less risky than meeting them when their blood was up.

Unlike the movies, which make it seem like battles last all of five minutes-they're actually long, torturous, and very, very messy. This one was no exception. The clashes of metal eventually died down and the screaming took on a different edge. Clearly the victors were performing the coup de grace upon their enemies. I didn't want to hear the screams of dying men… but I had little choice. If I blocked my ears then I wouldn't hear what else might be sneaking up on me. But if things were less immediately chaotic, I reasoned it was time to set off. So I hobbled across the stream and in doing so, fell over after cutting my foot on a sharp rock. Soaking wet, utterly frozen and bleeding, I crawled onto the bank.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" I growled through chattering teeth. This was not fun. The god of CCL was going to be faced with a lawsuit after this was all over.

I limped on-worried that the cut on my foot would get infected, but knowing full well there was nothing I could do for it. Then I heard whoops and yells before people suddenly flooded the forest in front of me. I could tell where they were because they were all painted blue. More surprising was the fact they weren't wearing a lot of clothes-weren't these lunatics freezing? Nevertheless, I threw myself into the undergrowth. Being raped was not on the 'to do' list. Looting dead bodies was. After all, dead bodies weren't inclined to try anything. The blue people walked past me, watchful despite their victory-perhaps they were the raiding party and their enemies had been the natives? I pushed myself deeper into the leaf litter, holding my breath. Eventually they were all gone. The forest was quiet. I stood, brushed the leaves off and checked my foot. Still bleeding, it was deep, jagged and ached something terrible. But I had no time to stop and mourn-the battlefield may be discovered soon and I wanted to be away from it with as much as I could carry.

When I finally reached the edge of the treeline, I hesitated and looked about. Seeing no one and hearing only the rain and birdsong, I edged onto the open ground.

The battlefield looked much the same as previous ones. Dead men and horses lay about the blood-stained ground. By the look of the armour, I was inclined to say the losing side had been a Roman Several men had been decapitated, but I couldn't see any heads. Had the blue people collected them? I wasn't sure, but it really didn't matter – I couldn't bury these men, couldn't even say the right prayers over their bodies. A sort of despair welled up in me-it was all meaningless really, but it was also in humans' nature to fight and kill. So I ignored my personal feelings on the matter and set about the bleak task of salvaging what I could.

But what first caught my attention was the horse struggling and thrashing in the mud. I hobbled over to it, making gentle cooing noises. I'm an experienced horse-person, being infinitely more interested in equines than boys as a teenager; I knew what to do. The horse didn't calm down, but I knew it had noticed me and was listening to me despite its panic. It was a beautiful blue roan, powerful, fine and tangled in its expensive-looking saddle. I frowned and moved towards the horse's head. Never approach a thrashing horse by way of the hooves, that's just a stupid idea. So I knelt by the horse's head and stroked its neck. I needed it to be calmer if I was to free it. The horse took some time to calm though – and in the mean time I'd silently christened it Fizzy. Don't ask me why, I'm crap at naming animals. One of my cats at home is called Porridge.

Finally Fizzy was calm enough for me to inspect the damage, although he was very highly strung. I stood behind him and leaned over to look at the damage-his foot was caught up in a broken and twisted strap of leather. I had no idea how he'd managed to get himself into such a mess, but every time Fizzy kicked against the improvised snare, it tightened around his ankle and put pressure on his back.

"How uncomfortable," I murmured, patting Fizzy's flank as I wondered what to do. The easiest thing would be to cut it, so I looked for a knife. Most of the weapons had gone, so it took some time. But I eventually found a small dagger in a man's boot-praise the Powers That Be for small blessings. I also grabbed a discarded and surprisingly clean cloak and wrapped it about my body under my arms like a towel. Fizzy whickered as I walked back to him and damn, that horse knew how to push my buttons. I loved it when horses called to me in greeting. I smiled at him, even though it was a wasted gesture on a horse.

Cutting Fizzy free took a long time-the leather was tough and well worn, but the horse was smart and didn't struggle too much. When it was done, the first thing the horse did was scramble to his feet and try to shake the saddle free. It slipped round his belly to hang underneath and Fizzy looked very surprised at this new turn of events. I stepped forward, smiling and put out a hand. The horse pushed his nose against my fingers and sighed wetly.

So cute. "I bet all the girls love you, charmer," I said fondly, scratching his ears. Fizzy leaned into the touch, eager for a bit of fuss. But a gust of wind reminded me I had to keep moving. I unbuckled the remains of the saddle from Fizzy and tossed it aside. Fizzy's bridle was still intact, except for the snapped reins, but tying them together again was no hassle. I then looped them around Fizzy's neck loosely so he didn't tangle himself up again and looked around, thinking.

Now that the horse was free I needed real clothes. I wandered through the dead men, looking for the smallest I could find. I eventually came across the body of a young man. He was one of the Blue People-scarcely more than a teenager really. I would have contemplated the horror of it all if I hadn't been nearing hypothermia. So instead I crouched over him, pushed his eyes shut because something about rain hitting lifeless eyes freaked me out, and started to undo the belt about his waist. Needless to say he wasn't wearing underwear-no time to be embarrassed, girl, I told myself sternly. Wrestling clothes off dead men is a near-impossible task. It took me forever to tug the trousers off. From what I could tell they were made out of finely-woven wool-nice. They were also wet and too big, but that didn't matter. Next I threw off the cloak and grabbed a sash of cloth I'd found, wrung the water out of it, and wrapped it firmly around my chest.

Nature and genetics had gone bankrupt before they could hand out feminine endowments, clearly thinking that everyone wanted to look like an under-fed teenage boy, but still, at least it made me feel feminine, even if I really had no breasts whatsoever. Unfortunately, acquiring a tunic took even longer than the damn trousers and Fizzy even wandered over to see what I was up to. Eventually, I managed to pull it off. The man had died from an arrow to the throat so there was a lot of blood around the collar and shoulders, but I had little choice.

After more looting, I scavenged another knife, some sort of dried meat (I ate a bit immediately and it tasted horrid) and several bundles of a very dry sort of biscuit made from oats, and flints for fire; half-a-dozen serviceable arrows (but no bow), another belt and a broken spearhead which I could probably use as another knife. Maybe even make another spear if I had to. I tied the arrows together with the spearhead and flints, then wrapped them in a strip of the cloak to make an improvised bundle. I threaded the second belt through this and made a backpack. The first belt was holding up my trousers. I cleaned my cut foot on the untainted wet grass as best I could, then wrapped more strips of material around it.

Shoes were not going to happen-these men's feet were all at least double my shoe-size. But I'd decided to ride Fizzy-I wouldn't need shoes. I needed at least another cloak for shelter-so I looked about again. I noticed there were two men tangled together in what must have been a very sticky final match. I pulled and pushed the Blue Man's corpse off the other and then as I reached forward to check the 'normal' one for anything useful, I screamed, causing Fizzy to flinch.

The man was alive. Barely, but his skin was warm to the touch and his chest rose and fell.

"Right… oh crap… shit, shit… calm down, calm down…" I stammered, sitting back on my haunches and thinking hard.

Shock gave way to practicality. This man needed help. True, I had just been looting his fallen comrades and enemies, but I hadn't defiled their corpses. Just taken stuff. He could have been my intended enemy in this universe, but I didn't care. He did look rather fierce though-wild dark hair fell across his face but failed to obscure the slightly raised tattoos on his angular cheekbones. He was clean-shaven and looked peaceful in his unconsciousness.

My first aid was very rusty, but I knew I had to check for head injuries first. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling along his skull for any lumps or wounds… his head was alright save for a large superficial bump – probably the reason he was unconscious. Next, I felt the vertebrae of his neck – all were okay. The inspection continued, hampered by infinite layers of leather and cloth. Finally I found the injuries: a large, deep slash to his thigh, a long wound in his side and another along his shoulder. The rest were superficial.

I'd need lots of cloth now…