Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anything's Possible: V2.0 ❯ Prologue: The Real World ( Prologue )

ANYTHING’S POSSIBLE: VERSION 2.0

PROLOGUE

“What do I do now?”

The words, heavy with weariness and sorrow, went unanswered except for the croak of a tiny frog that hopped across the wet pavement. That evening the riverside road had been inviting with the newly freed sun breaking through the day’s constant rain. The sunset of pastel orange and red had been breathtaking with heaven’s masterpiece reflected in the gentle flowing water and steam rising from the still warm asphalt. Now however, the road was a terrifying place. The trees and their newly engorged canopies further darkened the night’s gloom with the only light from the faint stars and the three quarter moon …when they weren’t blotted out by the steep mountain-ish hills on the other side of the road or the rapidly rebuilding clouds. The suffocating fog blanketing the river valley didn’t help ease the girl’s despair and nerve wracking apprehension either.

“What do I do now?” she repeated again in the a hoarse whisper, hugging her scraped knees to her chest before dropping her head to rest on them, not caring that more blood and mud smeared her face or the light sting that accompanied the movement and additional pressure on her exposed and torn nerve endings. Her typically unruly black hair was a complete mess atop her head - her bangs further hindering the vision of her cobalt blue eyes and the rest falling to between her thin shoulder blades that quivered in the gentle breeze. Despite it being early summer, the nights always had a slight chill and the unexpected plunge into the river had robbed her of any residual warmth she normally would have retained.

This was supposed to have been a summer of new beginnings and, for the first time in her 16 years of life, security. Security in that someone truly seemed to care for and maybe even love her. Care for her enough to formally adopt her into their close-knit family and begin to tend her physical and emotional needs that had been both neglected and abused in the dozen or so foster homes that plagued her memories like a despicable, angry, parasitic worm. But now that worm was wrecking havoc anew, her defenses for the moment were partially down – down with that tentative security and love resting at the bottom of the river, seat belts still securely fastened. A lone tear slid down the girl’s cheek as she remembered the wonderful, kindly couple whom for the last six months had cared and loved her as they did their own eight year old natural daughter. This very night was to have been a celebration of the finalization of her adoption that occurred earlier that afternoon. She could still feel the warmth of Mr. and Mrs. Candel’s arms clasping her in a fierce hug with tears in their eyes and little Anna’s arms wrapped around her waist as she gazed adoringly up at her new sister with her large, green eyes and blonde curls framing her round face. “Now we’re one big happy family, huh, Jen?” she had announced, not using the girl’s once preferred nickname.

Jen smirked remembering how one furious foster father had labeled her with the name of Merlin’s young, one-eyed, powerfully wise yet somewhat eccentric pagan priestess from the book “The Winter King” by Bernard Cornwell. For the hell she had unleashed that day, she was rewarded a black eye to match Nimue’s missing one, a new foster home and a new nickname to take to it, which she fully appreciated after reading the book herself in the weeks that followed. It was a much better name than Jen or even worse, Jennifer at least. But her new family refused to call her by a nickname with such a negative basis. Now she finally approved of her given name and was used to going by Jen once more. Suddenly, her stomach growled and she remembered that they never had made it to the restaurant for dinner.

All her life she’d been hungry, indeed starving for her appetite had always been fierce. And what little food the foster homes had provided to her and the other often minion-ish orphans was never enough. Her thin, wiry body gave testimony to her prolonged starvation. It was not a rare occurrence that she stole food from the other hateful orphans. But it was much more rarely that she ever profited from her attempts to sate her hunger, as she either got a beating and the food taken away or she herself relented the majority of the spoils to a younger or weaker orphan whom couldn’t defend his or her own limited portions. A bunch of dogs. Jen spat a small mouth full of blood from her split lip into the decaying leaves surrounding her. They acted like nothing but a stinking pack of starving, ferocious, wild dogs who must fight and steal to live.

And now poor, sweet hearted little Anna, whom had excitedly and self-importantly declined the invitation to the celebration dinner stating she had a prior engagement to her best friend’s birthday slumber party, might have to suffer in foster care as she had and most likely would again, now that they were both orphans. Again?! Jen sat up straight with a jerk and stared wide eyed down into the darkness to the inky black, ominous river. That’s right. Yes, she herself was alone again - an orphan once more. That meant when they found her sitting here, she would be taken back into children’s protective services. Anna had a chance of being adopted by her other blood relatives or possibly even by her friends’ parents; but she herself had no one. Certainly any family that adopted sweet little Anna would not take in her 16 year old, newly adopted, historically delinquent sister who (Jen knew they would suspect) might have possibly caused the horrible accident that killed both Mr. and Mrs. Candel. Yes, knowing how all adults thought, they would say she was at to blame.

She’d had no control of the fox that had suddenly scuttled across the road in front of their vehicle in the twilight. Nor had she been driving and jerked the wheel so violently to avoid the animal that the car went off the road and slammed sideways against a tree, causing Mrs. Candel in the front passenger seat to bang her temple against the side window with a fierce crack of the blood splattered glass. Mr. Candel had just enough time to see his wife of 10 years lying limp in the seat before the car slammed against another tree and the sudden violent lurch while he was in an awkward position caused his neck to whiplash so hard to leave him stunned. Jen had screamed in the backseat as she witnessed this horror and the continuation as the car bounced down the river bank before striking a large boulder, which tumbled the car over and over again on it’s side. Jen was battered about the interior of the car and the only thing that saved her was her seat belt. Finally with one last roll, the car flipped upright and crashed nose first into the river. In a beaten daze and not yet looking up, she reached a hand to the front seat and touched Mr. Candel on the shoulder as the car began to sink into the inky, cold water. That slight push toppled the big man over and she finally noticed that his neck was broken. Jen screamed…

Another tear slid silently down her cheek again before she angrily swiped it away, replacing the cleaned trail over her fine boned features with a fresh streak of mud and winced as it scraped into a small cut. No more tears. Tears had never helped her in the past and they would not help her now. What was she doing just sitting here anyway? Just sitting on the bank of a river in the dark and fog; tired and aching, damp, cold, hungry, in despair and feeling sorry for herself. Well, no more of just sitting here doing nothing. An increase in the cool, warm breeze and a not so distant rumble of thunder made her decided that shelter was as good a route to start with as any.

Achingly, muscles stiff from the accident and desperate fight out of the sinking car, Jen struggled to her feet. Her knees threatened to give out on her, but grasping a tree trunk and with determined will she kept her footing on the bank. It was hopelessly dark and she found herself feeling more than seeing her way. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she fumed to herself five minutes later, catching herself for the third time after tripping over a root. It was just too dark. Using her hands, she found the rough bark of the tree and with a sigh, sank down into the dead leaves at its base …Only to slip further down and sideways underneath the tree with a startled yelp. Using her hands once more in the even more pitch darkness of the hole, she discovered that the tree had grown over top a small pile of boulders that formed a sort of cave underneath with thick tree roots weaving through the stones. It was rather tight, but dry and warm with dried leaves and a dirt floor. Jen’s nostrils flared and she strained to hear. There was something in the tiny cave with her.

Towards the back of the hole, probably 6 feet away from her, sounded a soft yip and growl. Almost like a dog. Jen debated leaving the cave, but outside she could hear the wind picking up and the soft patter of rain as a new storm blew in. She sighed. There was no sense in going out in that weather if it wasn’t necessary to. And whatever was in here sounded small. Still Jen didn’t like sharing such a confined space with some unknown creature and she turned to face the area where she could still hear breathing and a faint whimpering growl. If only she could see… Wait! Jen dug in the pockets of her jean shorts and pulled out the key ring the Candels had given her with the key to their house and a tiny flashlight. Hoping it still worked after her dunking in the river, she quickly pushed the button on the end of the flashlight and after a flicker or two, the faint beam shown to the back of the cave. It was exactly the size and fashion that she’d felt it to be and there at the very back, curled into a frightened ball in a clump of warm, decaying leaves was a lone fox kit.

Jen breathed a sigh of relief. The little pup was little bigger than a kitten and she guessed it was about 6 weeks old. The kit blinked in the light, peered and growled at the strange huge creature that invaded its birth den. The girl was surprised that the little cub was alone; then she remembered the fox that had caused the accident in the first place. She had no true idea if the fox had been killed, but she figured that if it had been injured, the mother would return to this shelter with her young to nurse her wounds. But there was no other animal in the cave. “Poor little baby. You’re an orphan too,” Jen crooned softly to the fox kit. A sudden gust of wind blew through the entrance at the tree’s base and rain splattered on her back from the gust. Shivering, she crawled further into the cave and towards the frightened little animal. It cringed back into the wall as she approached and reached out a cautious hand to stroke the baby fox’s back. It quivered under her long fingers’ soft touch, but eventually relaxed and Jen crawled forward a bit more to pick the kit up with one hand and the other holding the flashlight.

The weary little thing nipped her hand, but Jen ignored the prick and looked into the little goldish-red face with its white under-marking and large light brown, cat slit eyes. A clap of thunder sounded and the fox kit shivered. “Poor baby,” she crooned again, then put the flashlight back in her pocket and settled back against the wall of stone and tree roots, cradling the frightened pup in her arms. The fox continued to shiver, but when another roaring clap of thunder reverberated in the little shelter, she curled into the girl’s arms seeking protection from this large creature that had not harmed her. Jen continued to croon and hum under her breath, soothing both the fox pup and herself from the fright of the storm. It was a familiar tune that she hummed, though anyone listening would think the sound was almost a growl. She didn’t know where she had first learned this tune, it was just something the girl always did whenever she was frightened or just needed to be soothed. And rarely did it ever fail to lull her to sleep. Sure enough it did so again for both orphans in the little dark cave underneath the big oak, as the storm continued to blow through the night into the river valley.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Shortly before dawn, Jen jerked awake. For a second, she didn’t know where she was; but a monstrous clap of thunder and the answering shiver and whimper from the small creature in her lap brought the memories of the previous day flooding back. The storm had yet to blow itself out and did seem to be getting worse. Kitsune, as Jen dubbed her, was shivering uncontrollably from fright. Jen picked up the young fox and held her to her shoulder almost like a baby. “It’s okay, Kitsune,” she whispered, stroking the little animal’s soft fur and little tail. This was a bad storm, she thought, and seemed to be right overhead. The rain was coming down in sheets and only the thick canopy from the tree kept the majority of the downpour away from the hole of an entrance, so little water trickled down the three foot grade into the cave. Jen couldn’t ever remember a storm lasting so fiercely for so long.

Yawning and still holding the fox kit to her shoulder, Jen rolled onto her back on the soft dirt floor, some dried leaves crumpling underneath her head as a crude pillow. She didn’t care if they stuck in her tangled hair or if more dirt accumulated on her slightly still damp, muddy, bloody clothes and skin. She winced, feeling bruises she hadn’t felt last night and cuts that strained against scabs at the movement. She wished for a warm bath, food, a first aid kit and a soft bed; but despite all this she felt fairly happy for the first time since the terrible accident for the momentary freedom from disapproving adults and the adorable little companion snuggled against her. She’d never had a pet or even a friend before and with little Kitsune she felt that, at least for the moment, she had found one. And so there was a faint smile on her face when it happened…

A searing, excruciating pain suddenly exploded from her abdomen and radiated throughout her entire body. A painful wail tore from Jen’s suddenly dry throat as it felt like every cell in her body was bursting into individual infernos and every fluid in her body evaporated. Her back wrenched off the dirt in an arc from the pain, every muscle in her body locked in extension as she writhed pitifully, her eyes rolling back so that she couldn’t see the lightning bolt that speared her sunken belly for this eternal second. Unbeknownst also to the girl, the baby fox at her shoulder shuddered in a spasm too, the flow of electricity connecting the two creatures from the ground and up through the tree into the sky.

From beneath her, at the base of her spine, a long prehensile tail suddenly sprang out over the top edge of her jean shorts and jerked, dark brown fur puffed out like a frightened cat. Just unexpectedly shot out as if the inward curved nub of her tailbone had just remembered its earliest primate ancestor before the tree dwellers took to the ground and scorned their tails for long legs and feet with arches. Jen didn’t notice this or the pain it caused as she lay unconscious. Then starting around the lightning bolt that still pierced her, faint shimmers of light expanded, leaving empty space in their wake, slowly dissolving her. And when the ring of shimmering particles reached the fox kit, digging tiny claws into the shoulder it lay on as the electricity pulsed through it, Kitsune too began to dissolve, starting at the white tip of the tail and moving up…

Then they were gone, leaving no trace in the tiny cave underneath a smoking tree in the stormy dawn…