I decided to rewrite my first fic about Capri, then when I rewrote it, the story was very different so I decided to just post the new one because I like it more!
Hope you guys like it!!!
Prolog
Lying safely tucked away near the shores of Mudos, a village thrives. This is the village of the Waityin. The angels of the sea. It is here that a new hero shall arise. Or should we say, heroine?
Chapter 1: Memory
My name is Caprial, but everyone in my village calls me Capri. Why? Because I hate being called by my real name. Caprial sounds too regal to me and I’m anything but.
I never met my mother or father. Father died before I was born and Mother followed soon after. So I hactched from my egg already alone in the world. High Priestess Yasienet says that my parents were both kind and gentle, and both of them were warriors. I hope that someday I can be just like them, a strong and proud warrior of Padme.
My best friend Giri says that I’m well on the way to becoming a great warrior. She’s always there for me when I need her. Every one says that there is no one kinder than Giri and her family. They also say that there is no one more buetiful. I have to totally agree with them. She’s the best friend a Waityin could have.
I’ve lived in this village my whole life. It was the whole village that raised me, so I’m on good terms with just about everyone. Except the High Priest Howki. I’ve come to the conclusion that he hates my little blue guts. He is always critiziing me on how small I am and he tells me that an orphen cannot become a warrior. Yasienet says that I should ignore him, but I can’t. His words hurt to much. But I’m going to show him that I can become a warrior, for the village and myself.
This village is so quite at night. You can hear the waves in the sea crash slowly and gently onto the gray sand. I often listen to this while everyone is asleep. It’s here I start to remember things. I remember good things and bad things. The most distrubing memories are the ones with tears. These are the ones I hate the most. In them I can hear cries of pain, and tears of sadness. I see fire everywhere around and I can feel it stinging the tender wet skin all over my body. I hear the whips crack and feel them leaving deep mark in the skin. I see a group of my people huddled into a corner, crying and wishing the pain would cease. I can barely breathe. The smoke filled air fills my lungs and chokes me. I feel a hot wet string of blood go down my body, but it’s not my blood. These memories always leave me sweaty and scared. I don’t dare ask the High Priestess or tell my friends because I’m afriad of what their answer will be.
I can only hope that I can find the meaning to these memories on my own someday.
Trouble Over Water
