Authors Note: This is a story that was made up by me (obviously) and it all started from what I thought Trunks might look like as a girl. Well that's just me for ya. You know how things go. Well c'est la vie! And here's the title:

Not Lost, Just Misplaced

(P.S. anything in Italics are thoughts)

PROLOGUE

All was still. It was night, and a moon that was just past its full hung in the sky like a large yellow dish. In its light stood a small village, and a short distance away was a wood. An owl hooted from far away. But not all was as it seemed to be. Half the village and a few of the surrounding farms stood in ruins.

Suddenly a shout rang out from within the village. This was followed by more shouts, until a whole mob emerged, yelling angrily, brandishing sticks and pitchforks, chasing something. Or rather, someone. A small child ran from the mob, panting heavily. She glanced behind her at the furious mob and ran faster. Her lavendar hair flopped down in her face and her breath came fast and ragged. The sweat on her forehead dribbled down into her dark eyes and blinded her momentarily ,eyes full of fear as she ran for her life before the pursuing mob that was out for blood. Her blood.

On and on she ran, until she reached the end of the wood and even then she still kept going, weaving in and out of the trees. How she found the strength and stmina to run so fast and so far for so long she didn't know. All she knew was that she had to run or die. And that she was afraid.

Soon the mob was left far behind, but all she could think of was putting as much space as she could between them and her as possible. Suddenly her foot caught on a tree root and she fell down flat on her face in the dirt. She lay there gasping for breath and trembling, waiting for them to be upon her, to kill her for what she did and what she was. But there was nothing. No yelling. No angry people. No pain. All she could hear was the sound of her own heavy breathing. All at once, everything caught up with her and she only had enough energy to hide herself in a hollow tree before she went to sleep, the sweat still wet on her face.

She blinked. Her eyes took a moment to focus but when they did... there was a giant black bug sitting right in front of her face. She let out a squeal and sat up. She'd always been terrified of bugs and she never knew why.

Okay. You're far too tense. Loosen up, Thyla. She looked around. Nothing around her looked at all familiar. Every tree looked the same. And she was hungry. So she started walking.

Thyla had been walking for hours. She was so tired and sore from the previous night. She'd foraged some berries but other than that she'd had nothing.

If there's anyone up there watching me, please, I need a miracle.

As she walked she thought. About what had happened. She just couldn't understand it. One minute she'd been little nine-year-old orphan Thyla, dreaming of a better life and the next... She was at a loss to explain it. She'd felt a surge of such absolute power like she'd never felt in her life before, And then-

Thyla stopped. And stared. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. A house in the middle of nowhere!

"This is unbelievable!" she cried. The house was surrounded by bushes and a vine was grown over one side. It was barely visible through the trees and undergrowth. Thyla bashed around it until she found the door. The plants were completely overgrown and it took her a while to reach it, and when she did she found that it was locked. She cussed and examined the door. It was dirty and the doorknocker and bell were tarnished and weathered. There was a name plate under the bell that was difficult to read. Thyla rubbed at it with her hand and squinted, trying to discern what the letters said.

"S....O....M? No, that's an N. S-O-N. Son? Huh." She looked around, trying to find the key. In front of her feet was a doormat that faintly read WELCOME. If I was a key, were would I be? Ah ha! Of course. Thyla lifted the doormat, took one look and screamed. Sitting where the door mat had been was a huge black beetle, with quickly scuttled away. She shivvered. She snatched up a large brass key encrusted with dirt and fitted it to the keyhole, turned it and shoved the door open. A great cloud of dust rolled out, chocking Thyla for a moment. After the dust settled and she had stopped coughing, she stepped over the threshold into the house. She looked around. A few lonely rays of sunlight struggled through the grime of the boarded-up windows. There were dusty cloths covering the ancient furniture. Faded pictures hung on the grey walls, and Thyla's eyes were drawn to one in particular. It was a framed piece of paper. on the paper were three crudely drawn stick figures, and spidery writing pointing out "mum", "dad" and "me". Across the top was writting in childish spelling, "Hom sweeet hoAme". Thyla suddenly felt uplifted.

"Home Sweet Home!" she cried, her voice echoing in the dusty room. "Home I finally have a place that I can call home!"

AN: Well whaddya think? This is just the prologue and I'm working on the next chapter already, but I don't know what's gonna happen in the end yet. I guess I should, but hmm. Well I sort of do. If you have any ideas, or anything to contribute, please email me at [email protected]. I'd luv to hear from you. Well, I better get on with Chapter One: The Beginning.