A copper-haired girl watched the dreary weather outside her window, rain cascading down the window in sheets. Wiry curls framed her morose face, it as dreary as the weather she watched. The rain usually had a calming effect on her, all storms did, but she was as jumpy as a jack rabbit this night. Something was amiss and the girl could feel it.

Something thudded heavily against the back door startling Krissandra McAndry out of her dream-like state. She stared at the door, afraid to open it. She had seen no one pass the window in which she sat.   -THUD- There it was again, softer though, but still there. Krissandra just stared at the door knowing what could be on the other side. Then she heard it; a call barely above the thunder and wind, a faint call for help.  She couldn't believe her ears. Who would be ot on a night like this? There it was again, a soft plea for help that faded into the storm. Krissandra flung herself out of the window seat and ran to the door. She would face what was there to help the person in need. She threw the locks, switched on the porch light, and stepped into the rain.

The light cast a weak circle that showed a person laying on the steps. It was a young man, his hair and face streaked with mud. His eyes were fluttering in the rain and his long hair was an indistinguishable color under all the mud. She suspected he was probably handsome under all that, but she couldn't be sure. She was sure that he would catch a dreadful cold, if he didn't have one already. Krissandra crouched to pull him into the house and paused when the wind died down. Something was wrong.

Her bare feet rested in water draining onto the ground. Her magic, that with nature, told her that someone was coming and had evil intentions. Then she saw him, the rain running off him, not daring to stick. She didn't like the look of him or the sound of him when he spoke.

"Give me the boy." His voice was low and sinister. Krissandra wouldn't have heard him had the wind still been blowing. Everything about him said bad and evil. He stepped closer, into the light of the doorway and porcg. "Give me the boy." he repeated.

"Why?" Krissandra asked, narrowing her eyes. "Of what iportance is he to you that you cometracking him, ready to kill? Is he such a danger thatyou come to kill him? He is one of goodness, while your heart is fillled with hatred and death. He is innocent compared to you and your wicked heart. I'd be just as likely to give you myself as give tyou him. Now be gone and ask for him no more."

"You will regret your decision sooner or later, sooner rather. He is not as innocent as you may believe. Heed my warning and take my lesson well." The man in black moved still closer to her, pulling a long, thin blade from his coat.

Krissandra swung her left arm in an arc over her body. Normally this would have left her torso open for attack, but se was not normal. Krissandra's power kicked in and rain pounded on the man, driving him back. He tried to slash at her but was forced to drop the blade. The man glared at er, as if saying the battle was not over, and disappeared into the darkness. Krissandra sighed heavily and released the rain to pur down on them. She raised her face to the sky and enjoyed the icy wetness.

The young man stirred next to her, his hand coming to rest in her open hand. She never would have noticed had his hand been warm nor the slight squeeze he gave the hand, but his hands were ice cold. Both of them were soaking wet, him even more so. Krissandra gently dragged the boy into the kitchen, where he promptly tried to cover his eyes. She shut off the light and stepped back into the rain. The knife the man had dropped lay in a puddle, repelling the water from it. Krissandra hefted it and left the rain once more.

The moment she stepped into the kitchen, with the knife in hand, the youth, which she had rescued, began to writhe in unseen pain. Krissasndra stepped sloser and his writhing changed to kicking and near screaming. She stepped back and he reverted to his former actions. She wondered where she could possibly set the blade so that she could help him. The only open places were the table, four feet beyond his head, and the counter, a foot to the left of the table. Either way she would have to bypass him to get it there--or would she? Her knife throwing skills wern't the best, ut the could work in a pinch.

Krissandra gripped the end of the blade and aimed for the wall. She drew her had back and let it fly. She closed her eyes and prayed it would stick; she listened for a sound that never came. Slowly she opened her eyes and saw an incredible feat. The blade, a foot of sharp steel, had soundlessly sanl up to hits hilt in the wood. Krissandra was in awe of her throw, but was shaken out of her stupor when the young man boounced off the floor and then remained still. She watched him, waiting to see if he would seize again. He didn't and Krissandra dropped to her knees besided him. She placed her hands on her shoulders to wake him and felt him shivering.

Darn it! I forgot he was wet. Krissandra cursed herself.  She quickly ran down the hall to the, removed a heavy blanket, and laid it beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and prepared for a heavy lift; she almost fell over when she exerted too much force . Wow! He's so light and--and delicate, I guess . Krissandra had various thoughts running through her mond as she wrapped the blanket around him and lifted her unknowing rescuee. She bore him out of the kitchen and upstairs to the guestroom. Krissandra gently laid him on the bed and fetched a bowl of warm water and a washcloth.

Krissandra placed her cleaning supplies on the night stand, then pulled back the blanket. He was still cold, but not icy, as he had been a little but ago. She took the washcloth and dipped it in the water, wringing it thoroughly.  As gently as possible, Krissandra cleaned the young man's face, gingerly touching the bruise forming at his left temple.  The girl liked what she revealed, a light borwn face with a dusting of freckles and a slightly upturned mouth; he was apparently enjoying this too.

Krissandra's mind argued over her next option: remove his shirt and take care of any wounds or leave it and possibly kill him. Her reasonable side won and she began to strip her patient of his shirt. When it was tossed into a pile on the floor, Krissandra took a good look at what was before her, tan, muscled skin and a pair of gashes crossing his midsection. They were shallow but long and wide and already were becoming infected. They ran hormizontally across his stomach. she changed the water and began again. Cleaning around the wounds was easily done compared to the wounds themselves.

Bareky had she touvhed them when the boy sat yo, then lay back down again. His eyes were open and, thoug  she was scared, Krissandra couldn't help but stare at him. His peaceful face was gone, replaceed by a mask of pain and shock. The eyes drew her the attention the most. His eyes were wide on his now clean face, wide and silver. He stared at her even as she gazed back. His mind was working quickly, Krissandra could see, working on what she could not guess. Krissndra dipped the cloth in the water again and, as she turned back, the young man tried to roll away.

Krissandra gently laid an hand on his bare arm and told him softly, "Don't even try it. I've already saved you once and am in the process of caring for you. So be still. Talk, if you can, or jus lay thereand watc, or go back to sleep for all I care. Can you tell me your name? So I don't have to call you boy or young man."

The young man debated with himself before anwsering her. "My name id Zachary, but you can call me Zach." Zach let out an ear-splitting yawn. "What's yours, oh rescuer of mine?"

Krissandra, athough I'd prefer Kriss. Go to sleep, you look so tired. I should be done when you awake." Zach nodded before yawning and slipping into sleep. Krissandra, or Kriss now, studied his sleeping face onve more as if looking for the innocence she claimed he had. She thought she found it in his peaceful slumber and returned to work.