little girl lost
When Mackenzie Lunaire Douglas, known to most as simply “Kenzie,” tumbled through space and time and found herself standing in the middle of a thoroughly unfamiliar city nearly a week ago, she was certain that she would be okay. She’s practically an adult-almost 16 years old, thanks very much-and she knows how to survive in the wilderness on her own. She has experience: she’s gone camping before, she’s been lost in the woods outside of her home, and she even once started her own fire with sticks.
The thing is, Chicago is nothing like Kokadjo, except for the part where they sort of rhyme. She did panic at first, but she didn’t cry, and that’s the important thing. She stifled her shocked screams with a bitten lip and hid her fear under the hood of her sweatshirt and clutched onto the leather strap of her quiver and bow case to silently remind herself that she is Kenzie (occasionally Kenzie-Lou) Douglas, a pure and loyal follower of the goddess Artemis, and she will not lose her well-kept cool over a temporary physical displacement.
She told herself she would survive and so far, she has. She’s been sleeping in the park and rationing the food and water she purchased with the money she found in the back pocket of her jeans. Sure, she looks like a wild child at this point, dirty and tousled and riddled with bug bites, but she’s otherwise okay. This detail is almost important as the fact that she didn't cry.
She even discovered that she can manipulate air, which was kind of horrifying at first; getting caught in your own uncontrollable whirlwind is not as fun as it sounds. There was no “whee!” spinning, only nausea and a near-decapitation by tree limb. Luckily, Kenzie is a fast learner. So she is now Kenzie Douglas, a pure and loyal follower of the goddess Artemis, who also happens to be a sort-of Airbender. It’s a pretty sweet title, she has to admit.
Unfortunately, novelty wears off pretty quickly with her. An almost-week in the wilds of Chicago was fun, but now she just wants to go home. She wants a shower and real food and she wants to see her grandparents and Uncle John and Shelley again. She wants to be back in Kokadjo, where there are no giant buildings and streets full of cars and far too many people.
No one’s actually had the chance to explain anything to her, though, because she hasn’t really spoken to anyone. She still doesn’t want to, but desperate times... you know.
“Hey,” she yells, standing in the middle of a sidewalk near the Kashtta with hands on her hips and bow and arrow set still strapped to her back, looking about as intimidating and demanding as a 15-year-old twig of a girl can, “someone needs to tell me how to get back to Maine.”
Pause. Her grandma wouldn’t like the way she’s speaking to these people.
“Uh. Please.”
The thing is, Chicago is nothing like Kokadjo, except for the part where they sort of rhyme. She did panic at first, but she didn’t cry, and that’s the important thing. She stifled her shocked screams with a bitten lip and hid her fear under the hood of her sweatshirt and clutched onto the leather strap of her quiver and bow case to silently remind herself that she is Kenzie (occasionally Kenzie-Lou) Douglas, a pure and loyal follower of the goddess Artemis, and she will not lose her well-kept cool over a temporary physical displacement.
She told herself she would survive and so far, she has. She’s been sleeping in the park and rationing the food and water she purchased with the money she found in the back pocket of her jeans. Sure, she looks like a wild child at this point, dirty and tousled and riddled with bug bites, but she’s otherwise okay. This detail is almost important as the fact that she didn't cry.
She even discovered that she can manipulate air, which was kind of horrifying at first; getting caught in your own uncontrollable whirlwind is not as fun as it sounds. There was no “whee!” spinning, only nausea and a near-decapitation by tree limb. Luckily, Kenzie is a fast learner. So she is now Kenzie Douglas, a pure and loyal follower of the goddess Artemis, who also happens to be a sort-of Airbender. It’s a pretty sweet title, she has to admit.
Unfortunately, novelty wears off pretty quickly with her. An almost-week in the wilds of Chicago was fun, but now she just wants to go home. She wants a shower and real food and she wants to see her grandparents and Uncle John and Shelley again. She wants to be back in Kokadjo, where there are no giant buildings and streets full of cars and far too many people.
No one’s actually had the chance to explain anything to her, though, because she hasn’t really spoken to anyone. She still doesn’t want to, but desperate times... you know.
“Hey,” she yells, standing in the middle of a sidewalk near the Kashtta with hands on her hips and bow and arrow set still strapped to her back, looking about as intimidating and demanding as a 15-year-old twig of a girl can, “someone needs to tell me how to get back to Maine.”
Pause. Her grandma wouldn’t like the way she’s speaking to these people.
“Uh. Please.”