FOUNDLING: LOST AND FOUND

BY CHRISTOPHER TOILKIEN

[ part 30 ]

Mavis prepared as her craft descended through the heavy cloud layer. An enhanced night vision view of the terrain below had appeared near the front of the passenger compartment. The information supplied by the two German ant-terrorist operatives indicated the rough walls of the drainage channel had not been maintained since the system had been constructed in the late thirties. The East Germans had been rather negligent at infrastructure maintenance. The diagrams of the sewer system showed that the pipe diameter barely enough for her trim body near were it ended ten feet below the rim of the well. Climbing pinions and ropes were all she would be able drag behind her. All her weapons, except for the machete would have to be left behind. She was expert with the heavy blade and smilled.

The craft disappeared and Mavis crouched low as she entered into the first pipe. At one point her foot slipped and when she put her hand out to brace on the concrete pipe wall, her gloved hand went right through. These pipes were barely structurally sound. One of these days a heavy storm would destroy miles of the prewar system. Checking the map as she entered an empty large turbulence neutralizer vaults, and spotted an iron door near the top of one wall. Rusty ladder leading up.

Since she would have to wait until the middle of the night to ensure the rat was sound asleep, she had time to explore. The lower rungs bent, threatening to giveaway. But those farther up were sound. No water ever got this high. The door set a foot back into the wall was warship passageway style and the dogs rusty. Mavis yanked with all her strength on the four engaged and eventually the door swung outwards screeching like a daemon.

Inside her night vision goggles showed misshapen piles stretching up to the arched concrete ceiling forty feet above. The floor in front of her held prone human sized shapes. Mavis pulled the door shut and risked a small flare. The human shapes in front were uniformed in the black of the nazi SS. Their bodies scattered in an ark, were the impact of a machine gun had scattered them. The rusty weapon at Mavis's feet.

What had they died for? Mavis wondered. But pulling a dusty rotting canvas truck tarp off the nearest pile answered that question. Small wooden boxes with wooden handles on their sides were neatly stacked. The hated nazi symbol and a serial number on each. Mavis picked one up; it was heavy and threw it against the wall of the short tunnel leading into the room. Four gold bars, each stamped with that symbol spilled out.

At four per box there was millions in gold in this vault. Mavis picked up a chunk of the lid. The partial date still readable stenciled on the box was 1945. Someone stored this blood soaked gold here to aid in the postwar rebirth of their horror. And killed the loyal troops who had carried it here.

Mavis stood still and thought. "Mark this location" "Done" Echoed back.

Mavis extinguished the flair and outside shoved and dogged the waterproof door shut.

A quick glance at the map and she headed for the pipe leading to the well a hundred meters ahead. It stank even more that anything so far. She hopped it would eventually wash or wear off.

More of the Same

Foundling woke, and wished she had not. Her wrists were still tied to the headboard and her body stank of sweat. Her mouth, face and loins sore from a night's rape and her body from whipping. She had soiled the sheets and still lay in it. But this had happened to her many times and her mind unfortunately had become immune to the horror of it.

The wagon was moving down a road. Bump, Bump, something was striking the door at the rear of the wagon. Thump, thump, a few minutes later, there it was again. Foundling was tied to the bed, but her legs were free. She hit the side of the wagon with her ankle, thump thump. Then in return three thump, thump, thump. Foundling, hoping it was Melissa safe and sound replied. Thump, thump, thump.

Foundling lay back, life was the shits, but Melissa was safe and close.

Later, Foundling was shook awake. Her handler unfastened her and dragged her out of the wagon. Disappointment showed on Foundlings face, Melissa was nowhere to be seen.

Her handler held his nose; language was no barrier to his opinion of her condition. The wagons were pulled up in a line on the side of the rod. She was taken over to a pool formed were a drainage ditch's piped was clogged were it ran under the old road and thrown in. She came up sputtering and a cake of course soap thrown at her. As she washed another small body came hurtling down to splash in the pool. A half-drowned Melissa splashed up; the fear on her face instantly changed to a smile. She kissed Foundling and whispered. “I knew it was you knocking back”

As they soaped and washed each other off, another naked young girl was led down to the side of the pool. Her hands tied behind her back and a leather thong noose around her neck. The young male leading her appeared startled to see someone else was in the pool, but undid her wrists and slipped the noose off over her head. Rather

uncharacteristically he handed her a bar of soap and hung a towel on a nearby bush. Turning the girl's back on the two frolicking bathers, he kissed the dusky skinned girl full on the lips, and walked away.

As the red-faced girl gingerly entered the pool, Melissa and Foundling splashed over.

"He likes you" Foundling tried in deliberately poor Spanish. "He is in love with me, but his father only sees me as a new pit fighter. I am afraid he will try to run off with me on the weekend when we reach the next pit outside Grenada" She sadly told them in locally dialectic Spanish.

"You are new to pit fighting?" Foundling inquired. "To being in one yes. My father bet heavily against a new girl earlier on this week and when inexplicably she bested his experienced one, putting her out of action. And therefore unacceptable as the usual default payment. I was offered as her replacement"

"But you will escape this life" Foundling stated, rubbing soap all over the swelling chest of the older dark hared on in front of her. She felt Melissa pressing herself up against her back, jealously reminder her lover she was right there and available.

"We are Romani, it is a mater of Family honor. My Father chooses my fate. And as a dutiful daughter, I obey" Her sad downcast face told Foundling, her words did not agree with her feelings.

"If you escape, make your way to where the main road from Grenada meets the Mediterranean. There you will find a Moorish fortress. Tell the gatekeepers you saw us and were. Our Mistress will grant you sanctuary" Foundling instructed the unhappy girl.

Just then, their handlers showed up and the three pit fighters quickly rinsed off, were handed towels and dried each other off. Then it was hands tied behind backs and leather nooses around necks.

The three were led back up to the line of wagons and pushed down into a kneeling position. Their hands were released and a plastic bowl of some meat bits, vegetables and potatoes was thrust into their hands. A tin cup of milk, constantly refilled was placed by their side. The girl's handlers stood behind them noose halters in their fists as they ate. The leader and his translator came by.

"You have cleaned up well, my little bitches. Eat well, in three days we will be at the great pit outside Grenada. Many, who lost much, are looking forward to your blond hair lying defeated in the pit. Especially Miranda here, who has joined my kennel because of you" He chortled, the translator repeated his words and tone.

Miranda glared at the two blondes squatting beside her. Realizing they were the reason for her downfall from free pit fighter feeder to owned pit fighter.

As the three scruffy little females squatted in the dirt, wolfing down their food, scooping it up in their fingers and shoving it in their mouth's. An equally young girl strode past. She was dressed in expensive silks and Egyptian cottons. Her neck, wrists and arms adorned with gold. On her feet, shiny black leather boots disappeared beneath an embroidered skirt. Her hared piled high in the Flamenco style, a Spanish silver comb twinkling in the sunlight.

"Make sure these bitches are fed, exercised and watered well. I need a new dress for the Granada fiesta. My father is presenting me to the council, so that bids may be offered for my hand in marriage. She sniffed the air" and keep them downwind of my trailer"

"Spoiled little bitch, all the pit fighters winnings go to keep her in finery" Melissa's handler said to no one in particular.' The rules say half goes in trust for the fighter herself, but he showers it on his only child. If the council finds out, her ass will be forfeit"

"And who is going to inform them, you Rodolfo. Your two winning blondes have no acquisition papers. The council does not look kindly on paperless pit fighters" Miranda's handler and lover shot back.

All the mean time the three pit fighters continued to clean their bowls. Hunger overriding any ethics regarding deportment and table manners. When their food bowls were empty and no more milk forthcoming, they were led out into the nearby woods. "Hear comes were we earn our feeding" Foundling thought. Bracing herself for another round of punishment and rape.

Instead they were led to where a tent stood in a clearing. A large canvas sack hung from a tree and a bullock harness and two pails lay on the floor.

Foundling was unbound and lead over to the hanging bag. Her handler mimicked punching it, and when she tried, found it stuffed with something stiff, but yielding, probably rags or sand. Her handler tied a leather thong to each ankle, and one between. Effectively hobbling her. She began punching the homemade bag, her handler standing by a cut swath in his hand.

Melissa was dragged over to the heavy wooden harness and after fixing her with a hobble similar to Foundlings, had the wooden frame draped across her thin shoulders. It was heavy enough for the tiny female, but when her handler added a metal pail, and the a few rocks to each end, she sagged to her knees. But her handler applied the switch until she staggered aloft, and started walking around the clearing.

As Foundling punched the bag and Melissa struggled y to carry more and more rocks around the clearing in those pails, Miranda was forced through never ending series of pushups, squats, running in place and sit-ups.

All three young females sweated in the hot sun as their handlers sat in the shade under the canvas.

Occasionally sips of water were allowed. But only a little and it had to be paid for with the female sucking her male handler off first. Foundling's handler came up with the idea for this little rest stop. And all three dominating males quickly followed. Foundling and Melissa were at least use to being made to service males, but it was obvious Miranda had never before been forced to suck a males cock. Her lover appeared to enjoy her services very much nevertheless.

After each pleasure break, for the males not the females, they switched exercise routine.

About the time each little girl had experienced each of the exercise routines the leaders spokesman appeared.

"Get them cleaned up in the pool" He ordered the three handlers. "The master entertains tonight and he wants the little one to dance"

So the exercise material was piled under the canvass and all three led back to the pool. They welcomed the cool waters of the pool, but winced when their sunburned bodies were submerged in the water.

Toweling off was painful, and three damp females were led back to the rear of their transport wagon. As again they squatted, ankles hobbled, shoving more of the same filling food in with their fingers, the leader happened to walk by with an other well dressed man. He stopped, looked startled, and examining Foundling walked over to the nearest handler. And slapped him so hard he was driven down to his knees.

Even Foundling did not understand his words, but the three handlers blanched, meekly offered an unacceptable reply, and were looking very worried when he finally stomped off.

Miranda whispered to Foundling as she leaned over to pick up her tin cup of milk. " The leader is very annoyed they let us get sunburned. If we do not heal up, nor get the slightest bit more, they will be kicked out of our tribe. The same as an excommunication if you were Catholic"

After eating their fill the three were led over to a multicolored tent set aside from the rest. As they approached, a female voice spoke, and the three handlers let the neck reigns go, indicating the three enter the tent alone.

Inside the richly appointed tent an adult female, every inch of her flesh hidden in rich multicolored silk garments from head to foot, sat in the lotus position at it's center. Her voice rang out, and Miranda dropped face down in front of her. A deeply tanned hand reached out, examining the reddening skin of her back and shoulders.

The shrouded shape stood and the hand examined each of the tiny reddening bodies. She spoke, Miranda nodded and bowed low.

"She will tend to our skin, but wonders why you do not heal yourself?" She said to Founding.

"Tell her I have no idea what she is talking about" Foundling replied.

"We will be brought to her tonight and she will begin your true education" Miranda said. The shape reached into a leather bag and handed out a dark blue bottle. Miranda took it bowing low, and removing the stopper, pored a little on her hand and handed it to Foundling.

"We each cover each others skin completely with this. She told them "And we will be healing soon"

Swiftly each little girl rubbed the oily, jasmine scented liquid all over each other's body. Foundling did Miranda, a pouting Melissa doing Foundling and Miranda Melissa. But the liquid quickly soothed the burnt skin and the warm feeling caused nipples to stiffen and buds to tingle.

The medicine woman clapped her hands and indicated the three were to leave. They exited to find three sheepish looking handlers twenty feet away. They slipped nooses over necks and loosely tied wrists behind backs. Leading the girls back to their transport, they tied leads to a ring on the back and after spreading out a blanket and making sure they had enough lead to sit on it, left them alone.

"I know it looks as if we could escape, but the dog pack would soon hunt us down", Miranda told them.

The leader came by, an adult female right behind. He examined them and seeing they did not cringe as his hand touched their oil glistening backs said something to the female. Then they both walked away.

She returned a few minutes later with a dress over one arm and white peasant blouses and plain black skirts over the other. She spoke to the translator, who passed on.

"If your lover repeats her dance performance tonight, he will allow you three to travel in the wagon unbound and free until the Granada fights. You will be well fed and promises you further exercises will be done either clothed, or under shade."

Foundling looked at Melissa, who smiled broadly. To be able to spend the next three nights in her lover's arms, she would have given her virgin body to the leader if he had demanded it.

"Foundling nodded and the female smiled broadly. She handed plain black skirts and plain white peasant blouses to Foundling and Miranda, but beckoned Melissa close, displaying a tiny Flamenco dress, ivory hair comb and castanets. Melissa stood still as the female removed her bonds, reached out a hand and led Melissa away.

Foundling and Miranda were released and allowed to dress. Foundlings school shoes and a pair of plain black leather shoes were fitted to Miranda. Even a hairbrush was proffered and each combed the knots out of the others hair. While this was going on, evening had descended, and the two, wrists bound, nooses in place were led to squat on their blanket beside the leader and his guest.

As the night progressed into darkness, the circles of men were served drink and food by an endless procession of females clad as Foundling and Miranda were. A fire was again set, and when it's main logs were ablaze. A Spanish guitar began to play. After a few minutes it stopped and a shadowy little figure was led into the circle of men by an adult female fully dressed in the Flamenco style.

She swept away the concealing cape to reveal a ravishing site. Little Melissa, a tiny blond hared duplicate, from gold ringed ankles to ivory come in her hair. Lace at bodice wrist and edge of her dress. She calmly walked into the area between the fire and the leader, bowing low to him and then Foundling.

But then another female walked boldly into the circle of males. Her outfit rich, silken and embroiders. Her comb sparkling silver. She stepped past Melissa, perfunctorily bowing to her father, but bending low, displaying her swelling sweet sixteen assets to the adult male sitting beside him.

The two dancers positioned themselves on either side of the fire. A single note chimed from the guitar and then it began to play. Around and around, leaping twirling, bending backward to touch head to ground, castanets clicking to the rhythm, the two competed to outdo each other. The tempo increased and the movements grew more rapid and their feet flew, skirts billowing to reveal bare flashing legs and white panties.

Both females were sweating profusely and the music of the Flamenco from the guitar and answering castanets were the only sound. The elder girl was excellent. And her years of hard training showed. But Melissa was engulfed by her overwhelming love for Foundling and her needs to prove she was deserving of her love. The older girl flagged, missed a step, and collapsed in defeat when Melissa leapt over the fire to land supine at her lovers feet in total surrender.

The ring of men stood and clapped. The leader again indicating Foundling scoop up and take what was clearly hers. Wrists freed and nooses lifted off Foundling again reached down, scooped Melissa up and walked into the darkness, Miranda trailing behind.

As Foundling carried the unconscious Melissa towards their love nest, Miranda from behind said;

"The female who led her into the ring is Spain's greatest Flamenco dancer. She told the unheeding Foundling. The man sitting beside our owner is her new much younger husband. On her behalf he has offered a great deal of money for Melissa. If he agrees, she will be asked. No one is forced to be her student, but she has not even found one who has displayed such passion in years. Her future would be assured"

Foundling turned and shocked the trailing female by speaking in perfect Spanish "Melissa is my lesbian lover, do you understand? That dance was one of submission and she driven to offer her body and soul unconditionally to me"

"But love and submission are what drives the best Flamenco dancers. Miranda retorted. She is aware it is you she was submitting too. And does not care, only that she is given a chance to pass on her training"

Arriving at their wagon, Foundling saw the three handlers standing near. They helped them clime in, sliding a wooden box of water bottles, bread and cheese after them. Foundling's handler whispered something into Miranda's ear as she was lifted in last. A key turned in the lock of the rear door sealing them in.

Foundling rolled the still unconscious Melissa on the bed, and the two eased the elaborate dress and gold ornaments off her. Foundling was shocked to see finger sized gold rings piercing Melissa's nipples and sex bud. Tender areas around them indicating very recent implementation.

"She has already accepted her offer of training" Miranda informed Foundling. If examined under a magnifying lens. Her teachers inscribed name will be revealed.

Foundling picked up the tall blue bottle of medication the Romani witch had treated their sunburn with and gently rubbed it into the piercing. Melissa groaned, and her eyes flickered open. "Mistress" she whispered, do you love me?" "Yes my little dancer" Foundling replied, kissing her on the lips. Foundling saw Melissa had slipped of into a deep sleep. Her naked chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Foundling was startled, in her head she could literally hear the blood swirling through Melissa's heart and the air through her lungs. She shook her head and it disappeared.

"Are you ok?" Miranda inquired.

"Yes, I am just tired" Foundling said. We should cleanup and follow her example" She indicated the sleeping Melissa.

The two used some of the bottled water on an extra pillow sham and washed dust and spilled drink off. They doubled up the bed's comforter and lay down side by side. Foundling tried to kiss Miranda good night, but the girl put her hand up between their lips.

"I am looking forward to the day I can submit my body to my own male lover" Miranda smiled.

"You should try to pick one with a big cock. Foundling whispered. My master is young, strong and has a great one, and it constantly requires servicing" Foundling smiled.

"You do not prefer girls/" She inquired.

"I have been trained all my life as a sex slave. To please whomever I am required to please"

But Miranda had fallen off to sleep, and after a few minutes contemplating the day's events, Foundling followed.

Training

The next day the three were woken early by their handlers and allowed to perform morning ablutions behind a handy bush. Breakfast was the usual milk with bread cheese and coffee.

Then wrists fastened behind the back, strap drawing elbows tight, and the usual neck halter. As the three were led away from the circle of wagons and down a bush covered slope. The cries of a young female in torment echoed up from the trees ahead.

Stepping around a large tree they saw in a dusty clearing the source of the cries wringing in their ears. An older naked young female was leaning forward, hands gripping the trunk of a large tree. Body bent forward, legs spread wide.

Just behind and beside her an older female dressed in white cotton harem pants, bare midriff, a bosom filled white cotton peasant top gathered at sleeves, neck and sleeves. An Arabic headdress complete with face concealing white scarf completed her barefooted attire.

Gold chains decorated with hanging gold coins at waist, neck wrists and a solitary gold chain at one bare ankle with a single coin hanging free.

But it was the splinted switch in her right hand, and the three splintered ones at her feet that most interested the three pit fighters.

"Fetch me another" A feminine voice said.

The girl under punishment literally ran to the white tent set up at one end of the open area. Picked up another from an urn full of them, and ran back to the stationary white female. She knelt in front of her, head down, arms raised, palms upward holding the new switch for her mistress.

The white dressed female picked up the switch and drew a line in the sand at her side.

"Put them there" She ordered.

And the handlers led them over to the line, removed their bonds and forced them to knee on the line.

"Join them" She ordered and the punished female scrambled over to the kneeling three and joined them.

Foundling glanced over at the new female. It was the Romani leaders spoiled daughter. Obviously no longer experiencing his benevolent pleasure. The white covered female was really an expert with that switch. Three splintered and not a single stroke cut her targets skin. It would be weeks before they faded, but fade they would. Leaving no permanent scars. Foundling had endured numerous switching from as well trained, and some as not, over her short life.

"The Granada Pit fight has been put off for a week. She told them. Therefore you will endure ten days of my benevolent training regime instead of only the original three."

They looked around at the new training setup. Odd canvasses had been stung over thick ropes between the large trees surrounding the grassy clearing. The seer's tent was set up at one end.

The large punching bag was hanging from a large tree limb. A basketball was suspended head high in a fishnet from another tree limb. Various wooden barrels and boxes crates were set in a sporadic ring around the edge of the open area.

Foundling, start running around the perimeter jumping over the obstacles Melissa get punching the big bag Miranda the small head bag And Luthien start doing pushups

Foundling ran in endless circles, jumping repeatedly over the obstacles that the white witch kept the three handlers moving around.

Little Melissa punched, high kicked and finally head butted the big bag when her hands and feet got too sore to continue.

Miranda had a great difficulty hitting the basketball suspended in the fish netting at first. But after the white witch wore out a switch on her tiny body, was bouncing it from fist strike to fist strike.

Luthien did pushups, sit-ups, knee and legs lifts until she could not move a trembling muscle. But somehow managed to attempt a few every time the white witch walked near.

"Lunch break" The white witch called out, walking over and sitting lotus stile under her canopy. The four exhausted girls just dropped to the grass were they were.

The white covered trainer lay out bottles of water and bowls of something from a huge plastic cooler.

"Lunch is here if you can crawl this far," She quietly said.

And the four exhausted females literally crawled on their bellies to where four sets of bowl and water bottles were waiting.

They ate the fruit and greenery out of the bowl with their fingers. Each quickly emptying the one little bottles of warm water.

"Since you crawled this far you can crawl to the pond and cool off" The white witch ordered and with switch in hand "inspired" the exhausted females to crawl the one hundred yards to the blocked drainage ditch pool and cool off. They lay under the shade of trees surrounding the water, recharging for two hours.

And then more water, but this one dosed with the legally allowed vitamin supplement for pit fighters in training.

They were then allowed to dress in their white blouses, black dresses and were given new low cut running shoes. And then with the white witch on horse trotted behind them, ran until they could not run another step. Their handlers carrying them over their shoulders back to the whit witches tent. Each night the exhausted girls with their hands tied behind their backs and short hobbles on their ankles slept staked by their neck nooses to wooden posts just outside the white witch's tent.

One full week of this, each female daily rotating through the every changing exercises brought them fighting fit, lean and hard to a morning were the exercise apparatus was dismantled and the four stood in a circle around the white witch. There handlers stood near and the baying of the hunting dog pack in their ears.

"OK, you have actually survived. I am surprised," She said

"Foundling, you must win in order to stay with your little charge Melissa. You know she cannot function without you. You fight for her sanity. Try not to do too much damage if you loose your temper.

"Miranda, your lover has offered three times your highest possible bride price for you. Winning will both vindicate his desire and I will ensure he has enough to outbid any contender for you"

"Melissa, I understand your unfathomable need to stay with your lover. I have seen your fire, but you must win at any cost"

"Luthien, you disgraced your father with that unauthorized dance. And when little unschooled Melissa bested you, brought down his wrath. If you win, your bride price will probably be the highest in years. You are intelligent, of impeccable breeding stock; your body made for delightful sex and eventually child bearing. But you must win or be turned over to the owner of the winning girl for nothing. He then can use you himself, rent your body out or sell it of after he is done with it"

"Foundling, try to hit me" She said.

Foundling stepped close swung her right hand but struck down at her right foot with her left foot. The white witch blocked, but staggered a tiny bit. They sparred, the witch showing Foundling counter moves and shock hit targets.

Miranda stood, gave and took a steady exchange of hits. The white witch was showing her how to move her feet to put her entire weight behind her strikes.

Luthien was not a stand up hitter, but her dancer's body had iron legs and wrestling an opponent to submission was her method. She bested two of the older male handlers and flipped her lover over her back, pinning him with a scissors leg grip, but breaking it to land a promising kiss on his lips.

Being unable to even land a blow on the dodging white witch exasperated Melissa, small, thin and light. An iron fist to the side of the head sent her sprawling, blood flowing from a cut lip.

"Come at me again. If you cannot fight as the others, remember you have to win at any cost, or never see your lover again" The white witch threatened.

Melissa screamed and charged the white witch, she attempted to simply trip her up, but Melissa wrapped her thin body around the outstretched leg, teeth biting deep into the white witches thy. The white witch yelled and chopped Melissa aside the ear, knocking her out. The white witch looked down on her unconscious form.

"That is how she will win. No one will expect her to fight like an animal. The white witch told the stunned three, as blood seeped between her fingers held over Melissa's bite. It worked on me, and it will certainly work on her unsuspecting, less well trained opponent"

Next day the sparing was between themselves with the White Witch standing to one side offering suggestions.

But that afternoon only Foundling and Melissa attendance, the others visiting their families one last time.

Melissa hung by her wrists from a large tree limb, her toes just brushing the ground.

Foundling was bound, wrists behind her back, elbows strapped tight, hobbled and neck noose tied close to a large iron stake driven into the hard earth by two of the handlers pounding hard with sledge hammers.

The white witch stood close to where Melissa hung.

"Foundling, I am going to start flogging her little body mercilessly. She will be so badly chewed up winning to morrow will be impossible. She will loose and end up some thugs fuck toy"

Foundling could not see, but heard her little lover's screams as the white witch worked her over. Foundling tugged uselessly at the rigid iron spike. It was meant to hold a rampaging elephant or anchor a huge Circus tent.

Foundling looked down at the spike, she could feel its strength, and its deliberately rough outer surface as it gripped the hard soil. But she also felt the desire of the metal to return to its natural form, red iron ore powder. Focusing on the metals desire to be free, closing her eyes, blocking out the screams of her lover.

She felt the leather thongs binding her, felt their newness, felt them start to dry out, flake at the edges and finally dissolve into dust.

Foundling felt the metal spike start to return back into its natural form, Foundling literally feeling it flow into dust. She opened her eyes shocked to see it had really happened. Piles of red rust lay were the metal post had been. Foundling stood free.

She turned to move towards were her loved was being tortured, and saw the white witch cutting the rope holding her up and easing her down.

"It was necessary, use my tent for the night" She said standing firm as Foundling walked stiffly towards here.

Foundling bent down, picked up the sobbing Melissa in her arms and walked into the multicolored tent

"I love you little dancer"

The white witch dismissed the girls two handlers. Setting her self down in the lotus position in front of the tent. She heard the soft whispers of the two, Foundling tending to the minor surface stings her switch had produced and Melissa pouring out her love for the strong willed Foundling,. The anchor of her being.

"Why must your orders always be so hard to carry out my Earth Mother" Mavis thought as she sat there through the night.