I've posted this on another forum, but I'm going to put it here as well, simply because this site makes the chapters easier to sort(and I have way too many chapter things, trust me).

Right, so, this story is meant to be a humorous fanfiction, and if anything contradicts reality way too much, here's my explanation: It's magic. All problems fixed. Also, this is somewhat of a parody of the Inheritance Cycle.

Disclaimer: I do not, have not, and will not ever own the Inheritance Cycle. Thankfully.

Great, author's note over. Go on, read the story. You know you want to.

Part one: Let's see what happens.

My eyes snapped open.

My memory was like a blank wall; I could remember nothing. Nothing, except for one fragment. I remembered tripping over something, then falling down towards the concrete sidewalk, my heavy backpack pushing me down. Then I had slammed into the hard ground.

I sat up, noticing immediately three things: I wasn't on the sidewalk, but somewhere in the middle of a snowy forest; I wasn't wearing my t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, but instead black shorts made of some light, cool fabric that felt like silk, and a sleeveless shirt made of the same material as the shorts, and yes, they were cold; and there was something heavy on my back, and it wasn't my backpack.

I groaned and flexed my imaginary wings, a thought that felt natural to me, and turned around, preparing to be disappointed for what I assumed would be the millionth time. To my surprise, I wasn't disappointed. My eyes widened as I stared at them. I had wings.

They were black, two large wings that, when I extended them, where at least fourteen feet wide. They looked just like I figured I had always expected them to be: limbs covered in black scales, translucent dark grey membrane stretched out below them. Kind of like pair of miniature dragon wings.

I folded them experimentally. My practice (I thought I had practiced with them, I wasn't too sure) with the imaginary wings had taught me how to control their real brothers, and they did just I wanted them to. Delighted, I extended them, then folded them tightly against my back. I grinned, then craned my neck back to examine them. There were two large openings in the back of the shirt that allowed my wings free movement. Tiny blood vessels bulged through the wing membrane. I gently touched the membrane, and learned that it was tougher than its delicate appearance led me to believe. It would take a pretty strong guy with a really big knife to cut through it. The scales were nearly impenetrable. Said pretty strong guy with a really big knife wouldn't be able to so much as scratch them.

"Woah," I muttered, simply to hear my own voice. It was deeper than a normal girl's. "Ya'know, I don't really care whether I have a memory or not, long as I've got these."

I crouched on all four legs and hopped while beating my wings furiously, trying to lift into flight, but I wasn't sure whether it was because I hadn't been born with wings, because this was a pretty cramped space, because I was normally scared of heights, or because this was my first time, but nothing happened. If you didn't count me fanning myself, that was.

With an annoyed sigh, I stood up and folded my wings against my back. Since there really wasn't all that much to do there, I set off into the forest.

I had amnesia, but it was only the events and the people that I didn't remember. I remembered actions, emotions, things like that. And I knew, for the fourteen years of my life, I had resented shoes and socks. Being barefoot without worrying about people shouting at me to put on my shoes was a relief, to say the least, and I was pretty sure this was the first time in my life I had actually felt dirt, true forest dirt, albeit cold true forest dirt, with my feet. You wouldn't believe how nice it is to be able to land toe-first in soft mucky soil when you've only ever known landing heel-first in a sock, which in turn lands in a shoe, and then lands on cement, which then touches humanized dirt.

Now, the other aspects of the forests weren't as nice, but they were pleasant enough, with not a trace of pollution in the air. The forest may have been snowy, but the path that I walked had a bunch of hoofprints, as if it were used a lot, and the snow had all been trampled away. Where there wasn't damp forest floor, there were ferns, and ancient trees rose up from everywhere. Squirrels, birds, insects, and all the other little forest critters conversed loudly, but the early mist muffled the noise.

After a few hours of walking, I came across a stream. I tossed my head in and gulped greedily at the cool, refreshing water. After I had sated my thirst, I lay back on the ground, my feet in the water, my neck-length dark brown hair pressed against the dirt, one wing squashed under me and the other stretched out, soaking up the late morning sun's welcome heat.

I heard something moving behind me, but I thought it was might just be a fox or something. Then I felt the point of a sword at my throat and saw a red blade gleaming above me, one with a black inscription carved into it.

"Eff," I said flatly.