Authors note: I own nothing; all belongs to blizzard except my OC blah blah blah… This is my first fanfic and I don't even have a vague clue where it will go. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Edit: 3/6/14 I've combined this with chapter 2.

Chapter 1

As consciousness slowly settled in the awareness of a male figure standing before her, screaming and raging, slipped away. An authority figure, frustration, defiance, and unsurprisingly, some form of something about sex. Her dreams always seemed to have something sexual in them these days. She really was becoming a cliché teen. The scenario was replaced with the murky perception a Wednesday morning.

A familiar dread curled inside her. God, school again. It felt like she'd fallen asleep just moments ago. She didn't want to go, never did. Who did? No one.

She sought out her phone, blindly searching beneath her pillow for it. Damn alarm wouldn't shut up. She groped around for it, growing as frustrated as her half-asleep mind could be as she was unable to find it.

Then she realized she hadn't heard the alarm at all, and she retracted her hand to the warmth. She didn't have to get up yet. More sleep. More sex dreams with nameless men. Comforted, she tried to remember where her dream had left off.

She reached to pull for her comforter. Too cold. Her feet rubbed against each other. Cold. Where was the blanket? Had she kicked it off again? Ugh, too cold. The teen rolled to her side.

Instead of the expected brown flower print carpet and white comforter piled against the side of her bed, the sight that greeted her sleepy eyes didn't make much sense. That's not my floor, she thought. Where's my blanket? She rubbed her eyes, straining to keep them open in the too-dim light that made tempting to just shut them again.

A few blinks later she was certain that wherever she was, it didn't look like her room, or anywhere in her house, or anything she'd even seen before. Half asleep or not, panic was setting in. At first she was frozen, taking in all her shocking surroundings. Tall foreboding trees so tall the tips of them were lost floating above the low hanging foliage of vines, leaves and other masses of green and purple. Where she should have been lying in a bed, instead she lay in a mess of grass, leaves dirt and oh god, bugs. This thought had her scrambling onto both feet.

"What even… what the hell?" She turned on her feet as she searched everything around her, hoping an explanation would appear.

Due to the eerie white mist or fog or low lying fog, Mary didn't care what it was, she could only see so far before it all melted together. It was trees everywhere, thickly clustered together with brambles and thickets curling around their roots. Into the fog, it was still trees she saw, only increasingly faded until there was nothing at all up white mist in all four directions.

Silence reigned, and she stood motionless, suddenly afraid to disrupt the silence, afraid to be heard. Could a forest even be this quiet? Weren't there things living in it? Birds, bugs, beasts, monsters, murderers, rapists, aliens, anything and everything out there that was about to hurt her.

Fear mixed with the panic. It tingled in her tense shoulders and clenched palms. The urge to flee was battled by the knowledge that she had no clue where she was or who or what was near. Fight or flight? Flight, something immediately cried but was it safe to run? No, answered the paranoia, and suddenly it felt as though thousands of eyes were upon her, listening to her heart pound, watching her breath, following her eyes darting into the gleaming and dark woods.

She held herself, and the bone shaking confusion and the fear that had her trembling and the shock that was making her gape wordlessly and the urge to check behind her and the bad feelings that were just boiling up and up and up and how was this even possible what was this where was she what was going to happen to her how'd she get here-

"Oh my god. Oh my god..." She was only murmuring, but her voice was enough to interrupt the oppressive silence. As the sound of her voice faded away everything was quiet again. Her thoughts, heartbeats and individual breaths were the only noises. Could a forest even be this quiet?

"Is anyone there?" She meekly asked. Of course, there was no answer, and Mary was stumped. What did she do next? How did this happen? "Oh,what have I done?" she said. Had she been kidnapped? Had she slept walked? No idiot, she thought, you've never slept walked a foot in your life. Had she died? Was this what happened when you died?

Eventually she began to wander, constantly looking behind her back. Above her, the canopy blotted nearly all the sun, and only an impossibly rare speckle of light lite the forest floor. She was walking in one continuous shadow.

She was further disheartened when an hour or so later a thorn ran across her bare thigh, leaving a trail of red in its path. A quick check confirmed her suspicion. "No pants." She told the forest around her. No pants, no socks, no shoes, no jacket, naked completely besides the old underwear and sweatshirt clinging to her goosebump covered skin that looked frail and sickly in the forest light. She tried not to think it, but the words, "I'm going to die," wouldn't go unheard.

She figured she should be afraid she was somehow dead, but Mary didn't put much faith the ideas of afterlives, therefore she was alive and likely going to die anyway.

So how'd she get here? Kidnapping? Had there been a nuclear holocaust that caused so much radiation she was hallucinating. She'd never done drugs, never touched a drop of alcohol. Was she on a different planet? Had aliens kidnapped her? Were they watching her from some spacecraft right now?

Or was she just an idiot who somehow ended up a forest. Amnesia perhaps? God, she almost whimpered, what happened? She'd gone to sleep last night after finishing her homework, it'd been late but she always stayed up late. I'm 16, she moaned silently, I don't know how to survive this! I can pass tests, draw a thing or two, and babysit. I cannot eat bark or hunt animals and survive winter and snow like that boy in that book and I'm going to starve, get eaten alive, anacondas, bears, gorillas, man-eating ants, and who knows what else is in this eternal forest!

She felt the tears growing in her eyes, and didn't stop them as the overflowed and fell. Crying proved to make walking difficult, with her aching bleeding feet stumbling over roots, her tear-blurred eyesight, and the sound of her hiccups and cries overwhelming any awareness she had of the her surroundings.

She tripped, got back up, tripped again, and got up again. It was partially determination and mostly for fear of staying in one place. "I'm going to die," she whispered, "I'm gonna die."

A few times she encountered some flying glowing things, decided they were some sort of huge local bug, and took it upon herself to stay the hell away from them. Thankfully, they seemed to be avoiding her as well, floating away with enough vigor to make Mary wonder just how intelligent they were. Floating bugs or not, it was good to know that at least one living thing inhabited this forest.

Far worse though, was the second living thing she encountered.

Mary was yet to see it, but she knew that something was there following her. It didn't even surprise her; that was what happened in scenarios like this wasn't it? You were attacked and never seen again. The paranoid feeling of watching eyes had become more intense, an inkling of being observed she unfortunately realized was not just the creation of uncontrolled imagination.

It had been there for maybe the quarter of an hour by now, and she was sure it was creeping closer with each step. It kept out of sight, moving with mastery and experience over the forest floor. Truthfully, she hadn't heard a single footfall, but she didn't doubt it's presence for a moment. She wondered what it was, torturing herself with ideas of rabid wolves, huge spiders and raging psychopaths.

Ideas of escape by running or climbing trees flickered by, but the chance of escaping whatever it was, and it clearly knew how to stalk prey in a forest, was hopelessly nonexistent. Maybe it was an animal, maybe it was a person. Mary was unsure which was preferable.

She had just stumbled over another root after being surprised by one of the blowing bugs when coming from above a heavy weight fell on her.

She fell with an "Unnff," and hit the ground hard, her tailbone and skull slamming into the forest floor with enough force to put black spots into her fluttering sight.

Her attacker was pinning her to the floor, strength pressing her into the ground at her wrists and waist. The painful grip on her wrists was decidedly human, as was the other hand holding a knife to her exposed throat.

Words were dancing from her attacker's mouth, but none of it made sense, and she found herself unable to think straight. All she could see was skin and a cascade of blue. The noises had slowed, and each nonsensical word was spoken slowly, as if her attacker was emphasizing something. I'm about to die, Mary thought. Or perhaps she'd said it aloud- it was impossible to tell.

The spots slithering across her vision finally left, allowing her to see her attacker for the first time clearly. He was a man, which explained his size and the way his body felt against hers. Dangerous, strong, overpowering, huge. His facial features were hard to make out in the lighting, but the glinting dagger at her exposed throat was impossibly obvious.

She could feel it's cold edge against her skin, and she dared not swallow. Her breathing, erratic and bizarre, threatened to be her undoing, as each gasp pressed her skin harder against the dagger. Her eyes were glued to the weapon and an entirely unfamiliar rush of adrenaline was making her more anxious by the millisecond.

The assaulter pushed tilted her chin up, and his eyes locked onto hers with ferocity. They were narrowed slits that burned like little stars, and they were drilling right through her.

She watched as he spoke again, and she listened carefully to each thing he said, and she understood none of it. He seemed to understand this, or some version of it, because he leaned closer, baring his teeth like a wild animal. Locks of his hair, an impossible blue hue, fell around both their faces.

His nose almost touched hers, and the knife at her throat was ever present. She swallowed, felt the dagger more intimately, and threw away any idea of speaking, lest she slit her own throat in the process.

He snarled, but leaned back. Mary physically felt his gaze as his narrowed eyes scrutinized her inch by inch. Her lack of clothes was even more pitiful at that moment, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she could recall.

She was startled when he stood up in a fluid motion, his tall form then towering over her. Mary scrambled to her feet attempting to back away but managed to somehow trip on her own feet and fall again. Her eyes didn't leave his threatening form was she got a hold of herself and stood. The moment she was upright he was practically atop her again.

Fight back! Mary knew she should at least try, but she couldn't think straight. All she could do was step back with shaking legs.

He mirrored her retreat, stepping closer once more. For a second they stared at each other, then too fast for her to register, he was behind her, holding her prisoner against his chest. The dagger had disappeared but the threat had not.

He said something to her then. It was short, blunt and in a foreign language, but the threat was obvious. How tall could one man be? She was a standard 5'5, and with her head not even reaching his shoulders, he had to tower over 6'.

Mary was trembling when he released her. She almost fell at the lack of his support. She hadn't noticed how much he'd been holding her up. She looked at him blankly when he appeared before her again, smile long gone. She felt something tug at her hands. She glanced down and stared at them dumbly. Ropes. She blanched, he'd bound her wrists. How he'd tied them without her noticing was beyond her.

She was wordless and again she knew that she needed to protest and fight back. But he wielded his weapon with skill, and he was practically twice her size and what could she do anyway?

He snatched up her two wrists in one enormous hand and pulled her forward. Mary avoided stumbling into him but didn't avoid the shove sent her way. She barely kept balance, and turned around to glare at him. He met her glare and beat it, and then motioned for her to start walking.

Mary obeyed, trying to calm her shallow breathing.

It didn't pass Mary's notice that while on most Wednesday mornings she sat through classes that made her want to die, on this morning- if it was even still morning- she instead was… well she was here, wherever here was, hiking in the woods without pants or shoes.

She tugged self-consciously at the sweatshirt. A small glance back confirmed that the sickly man was still there. Technically, she didn't know if the purple skin was a sign of illness or just a natural pigment. Nobody was actually born with purple skin, right? But from the strength he'd shown when attacking her, those hadn't been the actions of a man with a severe health condition. The blue hair... she'd seen similar colors on the kids at her school; nonetheless, it struck her as odd.

The skin though, Mary wasn't sure how she'd missed it at first. At first she'd wondered if it was just a result of the lighting, but that didn't last. It really looked to be purple. But each time she dared to look back he was still a pale lavender, almost gray. His ears too, if that's even what they were; they'd reminded her immediately of those elf characters in movies and stuff. However the similarity had been troubling, and she pretended not to have made the connection afterwards.

It was impossible to tell time, but from the flecks of sunlight she occasionally encountered on the forest floor the sun was still up. But now her feet were hurting, and more scratches had appeared. Most of them barely broke skin, but one or two were deeper, and the blood had clotted and dried unattractively. Normally, she'd have found some band aids already.

Every time she fell she got another bruise or scratch and she tried to brush the dirt and leaves from the injuries for fear of infections. And each time she fell it got harder and harder not to let loose the waves of tears she was hiding. But more disturbing was that every time she fell, a strong arm pulled her back up. He probably did it more out of convenience to travel quickly and not out of some misplaced concern, but Mary didn't like it. His touch made her skin crawl.

Behind her the man was walking silently. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't hear his footsteps over her own. But she never doubted his presence. The sensation of his eyes drilling was unrelenting.

Every inch of exposed skin felt vulnerable, exposed. Again she tugged at the red sweatshirt. Would it have killed her to wear pants to bed for once?

She'd been retracing her steps since her wretched awakening that morning when her steps faltered in surprise as she saw rooftops in the distance. They were slanted and half covered by the thick tree growth, and seemed to blend in with the forest. Mary thought they looked vaguely Asian, and for a split second wondered if somehow she'd landed herself in Asia.

Her internal debate was put to an end as a masculine and oddly pleased humm informed Mary that her captor had noticed the rooftops as well. She concluded, with dread, that their hike was about to be over.

Mary hadn't given it a lot deep thought, but she had wrongly assumed the purple skin was a one-time thing.

As she grew nearer and nearer to the village her legs began to shake. Understandable, considering everything, but it certainly did nothing to improve her confidence or the front of strength she'd decided to put up. With the confidence and increased pace her captor was walking with, she knew that nobody at the encroaching village was going to protest to her treatment; in fact, Mary feared that her predicament was minutes away from becoming intensely worse.

Below a wooden archway, at the entrance of the village, two guards, both female, Mary noticed, stood at attention. They wore matching uniforms, though it was really more like some medieval armor, and held matching weapons, three sided knives. The green haired one on the left, having not noticed the two approaching figures, distractedly twirled hers. The guard on the right had noticed them, and though her neutral expression betrayed none of her thoughts, the respectful nod to her captor spoke volumes. Mary felt the combined weight of two pairs of suspicious eyes, and it dawned on her what would happen in this village, done to her by these... severe people, would not be something to handle lightly.

The adamant dislike and animosity aimed at her was difficult for Mary to cope with. Even then, she stumbled forward at the force of her captors shove, listening as he barked commands. Their true meanings was lost on her, as was the response sung out by another armor wearing female who stood deeper into the center of the village. The hand that gripped her forearm was nothing if not bruising as her captor brought her before the other woman.

They came to a halt. For a moment, Mary saw a look of confusion mare the other's features and the woman swayed back. Suddenly the confusion was gone, replaced by a scowl, and Mary wondered if perhaps she'd imagined it. The higher ranking woman held herself with enough elegance and confidence to declare nothing if not power and importance. The same purple skin, the same ears, but not blue hair, white.

She had to brace herself against the sharpness of the strange woman's stare. Like a criminal before the court, she thought. Who are these freaks to treat me like this? They are the criminals. Indignation rose up the back of her throat and she stared daggers at two beside her, tempted to put up a fight. Her shoulder itched to jerk away from the man's grip, feeling angrier and angrier as he surely bruised her arm. Bastard.

A stupid idea, she surrendered bitterly. She hadn't stood a chance against the man before and there was no way she would now, surrounded by his friends. Besides, she'd never fought anyone, really fought, in her life. Wrestling with her seven year old brother for fun was one thing, taking on a well trained….for lack of better knowledge she'd call him a soldier, well taking him on would be suicide. Maybe her life was about to start sucking, but she didn't want to die. For gods sake, just yesterday she'd been taking notes of electronic configuration and the Lewis structure.

Mary felt regret, wishing she'd bothered to watch Alice in Wonderland, at least once. That's what this is, she quieted, a wonderland.

The woman's voice sounded like that of a choir girl, too ingenuous to seem real. Whatever she was saying sounded musical, dipping low in annoyance, then higher again. She stood stiff, arms crossed across her chest impatiently, and every so often she'd jerk her head towards Mary. Mary watched as the man interrupted her. Despite the language barrier, Mary could feel the reason and calmness in his words, along with a sliver of frustration.

Finally, with a snarl to compete with any lion, the woman relented, looking not at all happy. Mary could nearly imagine her words. Fine! Do what you want with the girl, but we need to have a talk later... and put some damn pants on her. At least, Mary hoped she'd get some pants.

The grunt the man gave to the woman's retreating figure was likely a thank you. But that gratitude didn't transfer over to Mary, for his glare was even more hostile than before. He's probably blaming you for causing the trouble, Mary realized. Ugly asshole.

He released her arm, and Mary sighed in relief, absently rubbing the sore spot. It caught her off guard when he spoke, seemingly to her, for the first time since their unfortunate meeting.

My name, she realized after listening to several seconds of gibberish. "My name?" Mary clarified, pointing to herself.

Her looked satisfied as he repeated a slightly garbled, "Myname," already tugging her toward a building of some sort.

Her eyes widened at her own stupidity, dumbly allowing him to pull her along as she realized the mistake she'd made. "No, no," she began, cautiously tapping his shoulder, "That's not my name." He glanced back at her, eyebrows raised, probably having recognized her 'name' "Not my name," she shook her head, hoping that was a universally recognized gesture, "Mary," she gave him an urging look, "Mary."

His only response was a scowl, and after that he grew increasingly intolerant of her attempts to clarify things. She eventually gave up, accepting the ironic misnomer.

Due to the structures that seemed to be impossibly built into the tree's themselves and the baffling wonder she felt each time she saw another purple skinned person, Mary quickly lost all sense of direction.

They passed another pair of guards, similar to the pair below the archway.

Both were female again, both purple skinned, both nearly two feet taller than Mary and pounds of muscle stronger. The man directed her down a pair of winding wooden stairs; she had to watch her feet on the smooth, worn wood. They sunk deeper and deeper into the earth, the wooden walls and floor giving away to stone.

To her bewilderment and horror, she began recognized her surroundings: the damp, dank smell, horrible lighting, stagnant air, the ominous quiet. She'd never been in one personally, but everything about this place screamed dungeon. She didn't belong in a dungeon, Mary internally wailed. Trapped between the dark unknown that stretched ahead of her and her captor behind her, Mary chose the latter, turning and staring up the man.

Perhaps it was the cold, for it was far colder that far underground surrounded by stones that leaked and dripped, or maybe it was the panic, but Mary shook. Her legs, coated in goosebumps and adorned with the drying blood, trembled; her hands, still tied together, she hugged against her chest, and pulled into white knuckled fists.

Like a gasping fish, her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She was given no chance to speak, however, her captor didn't seem to care about her obvious alarm. He gave her an irked scan and then physically insisted- by gripping her shoulders and turning her back around with a shove- she start walking. They didn't walk far, only past a couple empty cells, and then she really became a prisoner.

On the opposite side of the metal bars, her captor stood watching her. In only the weak glow of a torch hanging on the wall, foreboding shadows hung over the planes of his face. His eyes were brighter than ever before, and Mary hated how hard they were to read. How could someone read them, or look into them long- they were like miniature light bulbs stuck into someones eye sockets; unnatural and expressionless. They weren't red like a horror story would say, but Mary hated them nonetheless.

Without warning, he left. She watched his retreating figure until it melted into the shadows half a minute later. Cold, tired and entirely heartbroken Mary observed her cell sullenly. She spotted a spider web in the nearest corner. She hated spiders. Normally she would have made her father kill the spider. Her father, her family. God, she missed them already; it wasn't fair.

She cried, all the tears she'd held escaping.