"On September 10, 1977, scientists discovered a white star around 6:48 p.m. eastern standard time. They believe the star to be as old as the Egyptian ruins; however, they have no explanation as to why the star had not started shining before now. They estimate that the star is the same distance from the Earth as the North Star. The mystery behind the star now known as Rasheta, named after a missing pharaoh's daughter said to be born the same time that as the star, may not be solved in our lifetime...."

"On September 10, 1977, around 6:38 p.m., Christal Falcon was born to Sergeant Charles Falcon and Carol Given Falcon. The beautiful 6 pound 4 ounce baby girl was born in the Bethesda Medical Hospital. Both mother and daughter are doing fine. Christal is the first born of the Falcons..."

My overactive imagination allows me to make friends easily with my colorful stories. As I grow, my gift becomes my curse. I become an outsider among my fellow middle school comrades. No longer could I express myself in stories. In fact, the girls are interested in guys, and the guys are interested in girls and sports. Among these are people who had asked me to tell them another story. Time has a way of changing people; therefore, it changes me as well but not in the way many would have expected it to do so.

I become a lone wolf, an outsider. I could fit easily into any number of groups, and yet I do not want to change myself. My life is rough due to being the outsider, and not matter what day and age it is, children can be so cruel to others. I am one of the few that got the short end of the stick.

I do not care about what people say about me. It makes no real difference to me because my heart tells me otherwise. I do as I please when I feel like doing it. Other children my age fall to peer pressure, but due to the fact that none of my peers want to be around me, I do not succumb to it.

My days find me in the library with my nose in some book or another, researching various subjects I am interested in at the moment. If the computer is available, I play games and write my memories from my dreams on the computer. The nights reveal my homework being done and more stories being written. Thus the cycle of school, books, and being alone would continue if it is not for the fact that I walked by mom and dad's room while they watch the news.

"A couple of days ago, intelligent robots known as Autobots claimed to have stopped another group called Decepticons from taking over this dam in Oregon," the reporter states into the camera. "No one knows if they are telling the truth or not; however, their leader, Optimus Prime, refuses to allow anyone near their base. More news as it develops..."

"Wow," I whisper as I sneak back into my room. "They would be more supportive and understanding about differences. I’m sure they have met aliens far more different than themselves besides humans. Maybe they will understand me better than I can myself." My young frame shakes in excitement as I pack my heavy book bag with clothes, some personals, and paper with pens. I sneak pass my parents’ room to stop and hear them talking.

"I'm worried about Christal, Chuck," my mom whispers to my father. I kneel down to the floor to hear them more clearly.

"Mmhmm. It's just a phase. She'll grow out of it," is my dad’s response. I shake my head slowly as I skillfully make it back to my room. I finish packing my stuff quietly as I sigh softly. Then I lay down on my bed and sniff.

"A phase indeed. Sometimes I wonder about this family. My brother is totally into his games, my mom her crafts and keeping the house very clean, and my father is more into his work and computers than I am. Charles and Dad can relate and sometimes talk to each other, but I can’t do it with any of them without them thinking I’m weird, worrying about me, or believing that I’m stuck in some sort of phase that I will eventually grow out of. Hmph, they say you can’t choose your relatives, but why did I get to be the odd one if this group?" I sigh as I set my alarm clock and turn the volume down so only I can hear it.

Eight hours later, at the crack of dawn, sees me walking down a lonesome road heading north and west. I hide when I hear a car approach and sleep when I am tired. I make my way to the interstate and a nearby truck stop. I pull my collar further up around my neck as I sit down in a chair and look over the menu.

"What can Ah git ya’, honey?" an elderly waitress asks me as she chews her gum.

"May I please have a bowl of hot oatmeal and a kid’s glass of oj?" I ask politely.

"Sure thing. Ya’ want anything else?"

"No, thank you, miss...," I check her badge, "Hailey." I smile nicely as the waitress smiles back at me.

A few minutes later, she returns with my oatmeal, a large glass of orange juice, and some buttered toast. I smile again as I happily eat the good wholesome food. After I lick my lips clean and tap the glass lightly for the final drop of oj, I go to the cash register to pay my bill.

"How much do I owe you?" I ask as Hailey smiles softly at me.

"That will be a dollar." I look up to her as she smiles again at me. "With the reason why ya’ are runnin’ away from home."

"More like running to home. The place that I live at does not understand me. I have a very vivid imagination in which I can only ease the pain it causes my brain by telling stories. The people and the kids don’t like to listen to stories. The adults worry too much about what is happening in other parts of the world and not worrying about their own piece while the girls are interested in gossip and boys while the boys are interested in sports and girls."

"And ya’ are not like that?"

"No, ma’am, I’m not. Time changes people, and just as it changed them, it has changed me. The funny thing is that I used to be outspoken and very talkative, but now I’m not, not like what I used to be. I am just not interested in guys or gossip. There are no guys who can keep my interest, and no offence, ma’am, but I don’t really care for gossip. Reminds me of dull and unexciting soap operas."

"Well, where are ya’ headin’?" I fish out the dollar and two quarters. "What’s the 50 fer?"

"Tip. I’m heading to Oregon and could use some help getting there. Know of anyone who could use the company, at least to the next stop?"

"Yeah, see that couple over at that booth? They are headin’ fer Tennessee, and they love stories. Ah’ll ask them fer ya’, but ya’ had best be ready wit’ a story to prove to ‘em."

"Not a problem. My imagination has been working overtime, and I can’t seem to find anyone who will listen to me." Soon she motions me over to the couple. I tug at my collar as I slowly walk over to them. I swallow nervously as the couple looks at me expectantly.

"Well, sugah? We hear ya’ a good storyteller. We’ll give ya’ a ride to Knoxville, Tennessee only if ya’ can tell a good story," the elderly woman states in her broad Southern accent. The man smiles softly as Hailey gets me a high chair to start my story.

"Once there was a king, a powerful and wise one. He had no wife to give him heirs and heiresses to the throne. Far and wide letters were sent to fathers, asking them to present their daughter to this king. So, fathers and brothers came, bringing their daughters and sisters respectfully.¹

"What can you do?" the king would ask the possible brides. Their answers were all the same.

"I can cook, sew, embroider, keep your castle, be a good wife, bear you strong sons and beautiful daughters, and hostess your parties and balls, oh king," each would answer.

"Thank you. That is all," the king sighed as he would wave them away from him. The fathers and brothers would yell and beat these women all the way back to their homes.

"My king, you have looked at all the maidens that can be found, and yet none of them please you?" his trusted counselor asked.

"They are all pleasing to the eyes but not pleasing to my soul."

"I do not understand, my king."

"Nor do I," a young man nearby states as he interrupts me.

"You will see. If I may continue?" Everyone nods as I take the crowd back to the story.

"That is because I seek not only a wife but a companion," the king answered. "Leave me." He waved his royal hand adorned with rings from around the world at his advisor. The noble bows and leaves reluctantly.

The noble brow scrunched up as he paced the floor, thinking. His long royal robes trailed behind him as he turned several times as he paced the white marbled floor of his throne room. His shoulders heaved as he sighed. The soft red velvet brushed against his neck and face as he looked down to his black leather boots. Eventually he removed his robes and donned his cape as he strode to the stables.

"My king! Shall I ready the men to accompany you?" the captain of the guard asked as he saluted his king.

"No, I am going to see the Guardian of our land. Perhaps he can help me in quest."

"As my king wishes," the captain bowed and let the proud king passed. The king mounted his fiery red horse after taking the reins from a lowly stable boy who bowed. The king smiled and nodded his thanks as he clicked his tongue to the horse to gallop away from the splendid castle.

The king enjoyed the wind through his long dark brown to almost black hair. The horse neighed with joy as it leaped gracefully over some fallen trees. His cape fluttered behind him like a white untamed cloud as they near the Guardian’s domain.

"Ah, my wonderful Thunder, those maidens only cared about being married to a wealthy man. If I was a poor and common fisherman or farmer, they and their fathers and brothers would have nothing to do with me. I seek one who can do more than a normal woman’s work." He dismounted his horse as he patted the horse’s muzzle. "Stay. I will return soon."

He entered the dark and lonely cave slowly and cautiously. He picked his way until he saw a dim light off in the distance. Carefully, he approached the light. Towering above him were giant statues of a two-legged vixen with flowing hair and a two-legged male tiger with his hair pulled back in a long ponytail draped over one shoulder.

"Oh, Ryahin and Ravanna, hear my plea. I seek a woman of extraordinary beauty both within her soul and spirit and outer beauty. Please tell me if there is such a woman, and please tell me where I can find her."

"King Melanus, I, Ravanna of the house of RA, hear thy plea. I give thee my youngest child to take as thy wife and companion. Rahaven, come and greet thy husband-to-be," the statues of the vixen states as her eyes glow a soft green.

"I am here, mother." A beautiful and graceful woman with flowing soft red brown hair stepped out from the shadows. Her lean and supple body was encased in a sky blue velvet flowing dress. She extended her arms out to him, smiling softly as a tress of her hair fell over one of her emerald green eyes.

"Please, my lady, tell me what you can do," King Melanus stated softly.

"I can do everything that a normal woman can do in addition to planning war stragedies, hunting wild animals, and helping make important decisions as thou need or wish. My entire life hast been spent training in all skills in hopes that a mortal will ask for one such as myself," Rahaven stated musically.

"I have a question to ask of you, fair lady. If you had a choice between a mortal such as myself and an immortal, which one would you choose?"

"I would choose the one who loves me for me and for nothing else."

King Melanus took the beautiful maiden into his arms and gently kissed her lips. He carried her carefully to his horse and sat her in the saddle. Then he mounted behind her, and the fiery red horse trotted back to his castle.

Upon his return, the peasants cheered with joy at the sight of the lovely maiden before their king on the noble steed. Not all were happy. The fathers and brothers of the women who were presented before the king were angry to see the charming young woman with the king. Rahaven blushed as Melanus whispered something soft and loving into her ear. That only got the male relations to those women angrier.

Soon Melanus and Rahaven were wed. Ah, how beautiful Rahaven’s gown was! It was spun and woven just for her. They danced the night away to the sound of the band. The newly weds laughed and enjoyed the other’s company.

In the background, some of the discontented women gossiped. There was much for them to talk about. All of it was about the newly married couple that danced before them.

"I hear that he found her in a gutter."

"One of my reliable sources tell me she is really an ugly old witch who disguised herself to fool him."

"I was told that she is one of our people’s enemies."

"She is actually a slave that was sold to him, found in the freezing north and brought here to cool our good king’s fires."

"Ugh, that is so cruel," one of the waitresses states, snapping us all back to the present.

"Yes, sometimes humans are cruel, even at a young age, but it is in our nature to be as such," I respond.

"Please, child, finish the story," the female driver states to me.

"Yes, please finish the story," everyone choruses.

"As long as I am not interrupted again," I smile softly as I state this sternly.

"No more interruptions," Hailey promises.

"Good," I smile as I nod.

Now, all their gossiping would have amounted to a cup of beans if it was not for the fact that they were gossiping near some nobles. These men were very influential and believed every word these women said. The nobles looked aghast as they watched in horror their noble and kind king danced with, in their own minds, a venomous witch, a seductive slave, and gutter trash.

"We have to do something," one noble whispered into the ear of another.

"Don’t worry, we will," the noble whispered back to the first.

"Right now, we watch, listen, and wait," a third noble whispered to the other two who nodded.

"Enough!" the elderly woman driver states, snapping us all back to reality. I blink a couple of times, thinking my story is not good enough.

"Why ya’ tell ‘er to stop?" one traveler asks.

"Yeah, I think she should finish the story," another starts. The female driver glares softly at all of them.

"Child, ya’ should go home," the elderly male team driver states.

"But the people at my home do not appreciate my story telling abilities," I try to explain.

"The road is no place for a good kid like yerself," the male driver states as he places a hand on my shoulder. I sigh softly as I hang my head slightly.

"Ever stop to think that the road is the only safe place for a kid like me?" I mutter. "I guess I will have to turn elsewhere for that ride. Thanks anyways, Hailey."

I turn around after jumping off the stool and walk into a tall leather outfitted man. My eyes slowly go up, noting his clothes. He wears semi tight stone washed blue jean pants tucked into knee high deep brown leather work boots. A midnight black leather vest with a soft golden brown t shirt covers his finely defined stomach and powerful rippling pectoral muscles. He holds out his brown leathered fingerless gloved hand out to me. I look to see a child sized motorcycle helmet in his hand. He smiles softly at me as I slowly take the helmet out of his hand. He places a gentle but strong hand on my shoulder. I look into his golden skinned face surrounded by a wild mane of gold. He pushes a long lock of that soft clean mane away from the eyes that are a deep amber. I gulp slightly as my young mind sees a proud African lion looking at me through those eyes. He bends down onto one knee so I am not craning my neck to look up at him.

"Let’s saddle up. I’ll take you where you need to go," he states in a soft purring voice.

"Ya’ can’t take the kid," the female driver states as the male driver stands up and places a hand on my other shoulder as he glares at the biker.

"This girl is going to go on without anyone’s help. Personally, I would feel better if I took her most of the way. Now, you have a problem with that?" The biker stands up to his full height as I pull away from the driver and turn to face him.

"Yeah, ya’ have no business...," he starts.

"Listen, I have seen the look in her eyes as she told the story. She wants a ride to where she needs to go, and I’m going to take her. That’s final," the biker interrupts as he snaps his fingers. A similiarly dressed female biker walks over to him, holding out a fawn brown leather jacket. The biker shrugs the jacket onto his broad shoulders and leads me away from the diner.

Gasps come from the patrons behind us as we make our way back out into the warm sunshine. He slips on a pair of mirrored sunglasses and smiles softly at me. I plunk the helmet on my head with the visor up and looked at the parked bikes and smile softly to myself. He gets down on one knee again and adjusts the chin strap for me then picks me up and sets me down on the biggest and most pwerful street machine in the lot. My head shoots up as my hands run over the leather seat in front of me. The other bikers chuckle as he smiles softly to me.

"My name is Raeshian, what’s yours?" he asks.

"Christal Falcon, sir. Why did they gasped when our backs were turned to them?"

"When you get old enough to truely be able to ride a motorcycle, you’ll understand," he chuckles as he plunks his helmet onto his head and flips down my visor. "Besides, those two drivers are notorious for picking up kids and violating their rights." He climbs onto the bike in front of me. "There are straps on the back of my jacket. Grab hold of them and hang on tight, Chris."

I grip the straps on his jacket after looking at the embrodiered skull head with wings on a white background. Over it in red letters on a white background is Hell’s Angels and a word I can not pronounce under it. Under the wings is a red MC on similar background. I trace a finger over the feathers on the wings before slipping my hand into the strap. I rest my small helmeted head against the skull as I feel him go up on his bike and come down hard. Seconds later, the bike roars to life beneath us. I feel the purr of the engine between my legs as he looks over his shoulder to me and smiles again. I return his smile.

We travel along with me clinging to his jacket. They take the travel easy, stopping when we, or actually when I, need to get something to eat, sleep, or relax. They pay for my meals when I said I would pay my own way. Rashian refuses to let me pay.

"Chris, I want you to eat good meals, and the only way is if you can eat what is healthy. In this day and age, it costs to eat good."

"But, but...," I start.

"No buts, Chris. Now, eat."

I sigh as we drop the arguement. I eat what Raeshian and other bikers put in front of me. Soon we are on the road again, heading further west and north each day.

We sleep in motel rooms with me sleeping in a bed of my own. With each day, a biker would tell me why he or she joined this group as we make our journey. I listen to them as a few would tell why they are on the open road instead of home with family and friends.

"I am here to make a difference in life for people who believe that there is no hope or help available to them. Everyone needs hope in order to dream and live. With me riding as a part of this group and doing what I can, I am doing something for those who can not find their way," Raeshian states softly.

The other bikers nod as we pull to the side of the road to get something to eat. One biker pulls out a fresh whole loaf of white bread while another removes a jar each of creamy and crunchy peanut butter. I smirk a little as Raeshian opens the cold saddlebag on his bike to hand out several jars of grape, cherry, and strawberry jelly. He smiles to me as he makes up four sandwiches, two with grape jelly and two with cherry. He stops and looks at me with his hands holding the two different jars of peanut butter.

"I like creamy, please," I respond to the look on his face towards me. He nods and finishes making the sandwiches with creamy peanut butter. I smile broadly as he hands me two of the well made sandwiches.

"Here you go, Chris. Two creamy peanut butter sandwiches on white bread. One has cherry while the other is grape. Enjoy," Raeshian smirks as he sits down next to his bike on the ground. I stand until he pats the ground next to him. I smile a little as I take a bite out of one of the sandwiches. I sit down next to him as he leans back against his bike, his own sandwich already a third gone. The other sandwich rests untouched for the moment on his lap as I place my own untouched one on my own thigh.

"This is very good. How did you learn to make such good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Raeshian?"

"Through years of practice, Chris. I also squish the jelly in the jar first to break it up so I can spread it better over the bread without breaking the bread."

"That’s cool. I’ll have to remember that when I want some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." I munch quietly on the rest of my sandwich.

Some of the bikers finish their sandwiches and get out a couple of freesbees to throw around the small park. I start into my second sandwich as I duck to let a freesbee fly unhindered over my head. Raeshian already finished his sandwiches and lays down on the ground, looking at the fluffy white clouds passing over our heads.

"That one looks like a ghost," Raeshian states to no one in particular.

"What are you doing, Raeshian?" I ask. I finish up the rest of the sandwich as he rolls over onto his side, facing me.

"Just using my imagination. I’m looking at the clouds and saying what they look like to me. Want to join me?" I nods as I duck another freesbee and lay down next to him on my back. I smile as he rolls back to look up at the soft blue sky. I look at a fluffy cloud and smile.

"That one looks like a flying dragon." I point to one with two long ends and what looks like wings on the body. He chuckles as he looks around at the sky.

"What do you think that one looks like?" he asks as he points to a cloud.

"Hmmm?" I look and slightly gasp.

"Well?"

"It looks like a hunky male with a fox tail."

"Ah, what you see is what some people call a fox furre."

"What is that?" I turn my head to look at him.

"A furre is mainly an animal, a humanoid animal."

"Oh," I whisper as my eyes go over the cloud’s form again.

"I was taught that if one looks at the clouds and sees a person or something that could be, that will be that person’s own true love."

"But that one over there has ears like Mickey and a long tail." I point to one floating next to the fox furre cloud.

"What else do you notice about that one?"

"It looks like he has antenna and dressed similar to you, Raeshian."

"Mmm..."

"What is he, Raeshian?"

He rubs his chin as he examines the cloud with mouse ears and the whip like tail. I sigh softly as I roll over onto my side. His eyes dart between the two clouds almost like he was weighing them in his mind. I punch him lightly in the shoulder.

"Raeshian, what’s wrong?" I ask him as he looks at me.

"Nothing. Time to hit the road again."

I sigh as I get up and dust the dirt off me. He stands, gives both clouds a final look, and brushes the dirt off his pants. Then he mounts his bike and straps on his helmet. I slide my own little helmet onto my head and grab his outstretched hand to mount behind him on his bike.

"What about the others?" I ask him as the other bikers continue to play and relax.

"We have come as far as my riders and I can go. I am going to take you to a truck stop where a driver will come to take you through the second part of the trip. That driver will take you all the way to the mountains. Then the driver will help you get your final ride to Oregon," he states as he stops at the truck stop and dismounts.

"But why can’t you take me the rest of the way?" I ask as I dismount and follow him into the diner.

"The reason is because the two areas are territories belonging to other bikers. We can not enter their territories without permission. Right now, it would be difficult to track down the leaders to ask." He leads me to a booth and motions for me to sit.

"Why is that, Raeshian?" I look up at him as I slide into the seat.

"The leaders are always moving around in their territories."

"Oh, okay. Will the other two be nice like you?"

"To a point, Chris. They will make sure you get three healthy meals a day while with them, and let you sleep when you need."

"Will I see you again, Raeshian?"

"If the spirits are willing, and life and faith are kind, perhaps."

I nod as Raeshian goes over to one of the chairs near the grill to speak to a similarly dressed driver. They talk for a bit as a waitress comes over and hands me a banana split. I smile to her as I eat the delicious dessert slowly.

"Christal?" The rough and tumble biker looks at me as the driver holds out his hand to me. I look up to see the driver smiling softly to me.

"That’s me. What’s your name?"

"Just call me Mac," the driver states as he holds out his hand to me. I smile a little as I shake Mac’s hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mac," I reply.

"No, just Mac. I am not a mister to any of my friends, nor do I care to be."

"Okay, M... Mac."

"Finish your split, and then we’ll head out, okay?" He smiles softly as Raeshian takes the helmet.

"Safe journey to you, Christal Falcon," Raeshian states as he circles his hand, touches his index and ring fingers to his lips, and then reaches out towards me with those two fingers. I smile softly as I repeat the gesture.

"Safe journey, Raeshian."

I turn to look at Mac so I do not see Raeshian leave. Soon I finish the split, and Mac gets up to pay the bill. I stand nearby Mac as the channel changes to the national news. I go completely still as the announcer talks. Mac stands there, watching the news with me.

"Currently there is no information as to the whereabouts of Christal Falcon. Her parents do not know if she ran away from home, was kidnapped, or the combination of the two. Christal is about 3 foot 5 inches, weighing about 110 pounds. She has brown hair and eyes. Her most distinguishing features are the old burn scars on her left index finger and right ring finger. She also wears eyeglasses. If anyone has any information about Christal Falcon, please call the Georgia State Police at..."

"Come on, little pea. Time to hit the road," Mac states as he leads the way out of the diner. "Up we go!"

He lifts me up into the passenger’s side of his turquoise mack truck. He closes the door behind me and climbs in easily on the driver’s side. Then, he starts up his truck and turns on his CB. Once we are safely away, I ask the question burning on my mind.

"Are you going to call the police on me?"

"Why should I, Christal? You are just a kid trying to find someone who understands and accepts you for who you are. I do not like helping runaways, but in this case I am making an exception. Once you do find that person, I would at least let your folks know where you are at, and if I was you, I would not make a habit of it. Running away never solves anything, nor does it prove a point to your parents."

"Like they would care. They don’t listen to me when I tell stories or use my imagination. My younger brother is more into his gamers than being entertained by my stories."

"Gamers?" Mac raises an eyebrow to me as his eyes remain on the road.

"Those new game machines that can be played at home," I explain.

"Oh. I know what you are talking about now. What about your mother? Surely she’s interested?"

I shake my head sadly. "My brother is not doing well in school which causes her to fret and worry about him, and she also has to run the house on her own. She doesn’t have time to listen to my stories, nor does she want to."

"Are you certain she doesn’t...?"

"Yes, Mac. She even told me, "Christal, I don’t have time to listen to your silly stories nor do I want to. Your brother needs me right now. So be a good girl and find something else to do." Then she would go to try to calm Charles from his temper tantrum and leave me alone. Before you ask, Dad always work or busy watching tv to where he doesn’t even hear me tell my stories," I sigh softly as I put my hands in my lap and rest my head against the closed and locked door.

I close my eyes as my ears hear truckers talking to Mac and each other. They ask each other as to where Smokies could be at or about weather and road conditions. I look up once when Mac asks about Smokies on the road we travel on.

"Nope, you’re clear, Big Mac. Keep on truckin’. Catch ya’ on the flip side," the voice on the other end answers. Mac keys off his microphone and hangs it back up in its spot.

"Mac, I don’t mean to bother you, but what are Smokies?"

"You are no bother, Chris. Smokies are police cars. Evil Kanevils are cops on motorcycles or any type of two wheeler. Bubble gum machines are police cars with their lights on top."

"Oh. I was just wondering, and what does "doing a 10-100 or a 10-200" mean?"

"You heard that?" he smirks as he looks over at me and sees me nod. "That is just what sort of bathroom duty they are doing."

"Oh," I mumble as I look down at my small white high top sneakers.

Soon he stops and gets out to stretch his legs as he walks stiffly over to my side. He opens the door and helps me out of the cab. I jump up and down a few times to shake the stiffness out of my legs. He smiles as he holds out his hand to me.

It turns out that we stopped for just a little while. He lets me use the bathroom on my own, and then allows me to order what I want to eat for dinner. We talk about anything and everything. I laugh easily at his jokes while he listens intently to the story that I started but never finished at the diner. I also tell him about the two drivers and what impression Raeshian made on my mind.

"He’s really a kitten under all that toughness, but he would not have let you go with those two drivers," he laughs softly as he ruffles my hair.

I sigh as I push it all back down in place. Then we are back on the road. I crawl into the back to get some sleep.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Mac states as I wake up in a soft bed. "Time to rise and shine!" I nod softly as I wipe the sleep from my eyes and yawn toothily.

"Morning, Mac." I open my eyes completely as I see a three pronged device in his hand.

"What’s that?"

"This?" He holds it up for me to see the intratic designs on it. "It’s a shirakin². The edges that are rounded here," he states as he touches the edges that look like the edge of a knife, "can cut through almost anything. I practiced on one that would sting me if I caught it wrong over it cutting me."

"Wow! Think I could every learn how to use it?"

"With practice, yeah, I think you can."

The three blades merge together as one while he twirls the deadly weapon as easily as a ninja would with a nunchuck. Then he brings it up to his right shoulder with his left hand and throws the lethal device. The air sings as the blades slice through it and anything else it comes in contact. After a minute of being airborne, the tool of death and destruction makes a wide arch back to Mac’s outstretched hand. I gasp as he snatches the dangerous device out of the air. Defying my eyes and mind which say that his hand should be cut off at the wrist, he holds up the tri-bladed disc triumpantly. I sigh softly as I shake my head, slightly bemused. He chuckles at me as he hands me the practice disc.

A couple of days and about half a million shocks later shows me handling the disc so well that it dances as the air sings around it. I rub my hand, remembering how the practice blades work and sigh softly. Mac looks at me as I shake my head, showing that there is nothing wrong.

"If you catch it wrong, the practice blades will shock you as a reminder that you could lose your hand if it was the real deal," Mac stated to me as I lightly danced around from being shocked for the umpteenth time after I had asked about the weapon.

"But why is the shock so sharp?" I complained after shaking my hand and stopped dancing from miscatching the practice device.

"To teach you how to catch it. Personally, I have seen people who tried the weapon without learning how to catch it right, and they lost more than just a finger. Some of them lost their arm because of their foolishness. If the blades were poisoned on top of that, they also lost their lives in a few hours."

"Then why was such a weapon created?" I asked.

"It was created to be thrown; however, it was learned that thrown a certain way, and it would return. They started to practice on getting it to return without cutting off any body parts of the thrower. Thus the people needed to practice on catching it right. The practice device with shock blades is the best way that I have seen to teach anyone how to catch the returning shirakin."

"Oh."

It has been a couple of days since I left Raeshian’s care, and almost a week since I left home. I allowed a few days of summer vacation at home to see if my family would change their ways, but when I saw that they would not spend even an hour a day with me, I decided on that faithful night to leave on a vacation trip of my own. I have yet to regret my decision to get away for a while.

"Hey, Earth to Chris. Come in, Chris." Mac waves his hand in front of my face as I snap back to the present.

"Hmm?"

"Let’s get something to eat and get back on the road, okay?"

"Okay, Mac."

We go to a small restaurant and eat a good meal. He entertains me with jokes until I see a couple of nice Harleys parked in the lot. He follows my longing gaze to the bikes.

"That minds me. Why did you not watch Raeshian leave?"

"I was told that if you watch someone leave, you may never see that person again alive." I shrug my shoulders as he looks thoughtful at me.

"Could be some truth to that, Chris. One never knows. We done eating?"

I nod as he gets up and pays the bill. Soon we are along a lonely stretch of road with a few cars for company. I sigh as there is bare flat land as far as the eye can see.

"I hear you. There’s tornadoes in the area, huh?" Mac states into his mic.

"That’s a big ten-four, Big Mac. From what I see of the road, there is no cover anywhere. Everyone on this stretch had best hope none... Sweet mother of mercy," the voice on the other end gasps.

"What’s wrong, Wild Hare?"

"Um, Mac, tornado touchdown at 2 o’clock," I state as I point.

"Oh, RA and all the ancestors," Mac mutters softly as he sees the swirling wind mass slowly makes its way towards the road. "Wild Hare, approaching tornado at 1 o’clock. It will soon be right in front of us."

"I see it. Best put on our flashers to signal everyone of danger."

"Use your air horns too," Mac states as I watch the wild spinning column of wind move slowly in front of us.

"The other cars see it now, and they are trying to get out of its path, but it’s coming straight down the road on the pavement," Wild Hare exclaims as he pulls the string to sound his airhorn.

"Ah, fraggit. Wild Hare, all your honking is doing, from the looks of it, is guiding that tornado over to you. BAIL!"

I watch in horror as Mac stops the truck as we watch a driver jump clear of a mack truck in front of us. Seconds later, the truck rises up into the air and twirls around inside the tornado. We watch as the tornado tosses the truck around like a toy. Mac and I jump out of the truck as everyone else tries to flee the raging tornado. I jump up and laugh as I realize what I sense from the tornado.

"Christal! Get down!"

"The tornado wants to play, Mac. Watch." I smile as I point to the tornado. The tornado stops with its winds blowing my hair around my head and body. I smile as a tendril of my hair caresses my face. "You just want to have someone to play with. I know you, gentle wind. You played with me, carrying me up into the clouds and showing me things that people have long forgotten. I was scared when you lifted me up while I cried because I believed that I had no friends to be with. You held me as a real loving parent would hold a dear child. You comforted me when I was sad, played with me when I was lonely, and braided my hair when I could not do it myself. Please, I can not play right now. Could you please put the truck back. A lot of people are afraid of you. They do not understand, but I do."

Everyone gasps as the truck is gently put back onto the ground. The tip rises up to reveal the truck undamaged and back where the tornado picked it up from the road. I smile as the tornado disappears, and the wind braids my hair. I turn back to Mac as he chuckles and shakes his head in astonishment.

"Looks like ya’ were right about her, Raeshian," he whispers softly to himself as we quickly get back into the truck and continue on our way. Soon we stop just on the eastern side of the Rockies. I look around the quaint diner before we get a bite to eat. A young woman driver sits down next to us and smiles to me.

"Hi, Mac. This is the one that Raeshian told me I would take to Mount Saint Helens?" the woman asks.

"That’s right." He holds his hand out to her as she takes it and smiles at him.

"Chris is very special. She’s shown more ability than any that I have seen." Then Mac stands and ruffles my hair. "Be safe, Chris. I want you to have this." He holds out in front of me the harness for the shirakin with the weapon inside it.

"I can’t, Mac. That is yours."

"I want you to have it. I have no other family or friends other than Raeshian and now you. I want you to take it and remember me as you protect the ones you care about with it later on in life. Please, don’t forget me and all that you’ve learn. Safe journey, Christal." Then he circles his hand and touches his index and middle finger to his head, heart, then lips before touching my chest

"What does that mean, Mac?"

"You will be in my thoughts and heart, and let my words reach and comfort you," the female responds.

"I learned it from Raeshian, and who knows where he learned it," Mac states as I repeat the gesture.

"Safe journey, good friend." Then I look at the female driver, not wanting to see Mac pay the bill and leave me alone with her.

"My name is CB. Ready to go, Chris?" she asks as she looks into my sadden eyes.

"I guess so."

"No worries. You’ll see him again, someday."

Once again, I am on the road with someone who listens intently to me. CB laughs and enjoys my stories and adventures that I have had thus far. I enjoy having a woman laugh and truely enjoy my stories.

"I wish you were my mom," I sigh one afternoon. She looks over at me and smiles gently.

"I know that your mom is worried about you. Some parents have it rough because their own parents couldn’t show affection to them. Thus they learned not to show affection to their children. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"When you’re an adult and have children of your own, remember our talk and show your kids you care."

"CB, I’m only 10 years old. I’m not old enough to have kids right now. Besides, what makes you think I will live long enough to find someone to love to marry and have kids with him?"

"You did that cloud person thing with Raeshian, right?" I nod as she chuckles. "You will live long enough to have at least one child to raise. Besides, Raeshian has been pretty good on fortune telling, so you might even have two."

I smile softly at her as she continues driving. I watch as she navigates the big rig through the dangerous curves of the road. We slowly snake our way through the mountains.

"Why are you called CB?" I ask to pass some of the time.

"It is a nickname a guy gave me."

"Oh? What does it stand for?"

"It’s short for Cutie Buns," she chuckles as she smirks at me. "I have been stuck with that name ever since. Almost there. Since we are playing twenty questions, I have one to ask you."

"Go ahead and ask."

"Why do you want to become a writer, artist, or even a singer? They may be high paying, but only if you have the talent for them."

"Don't you like my stories?" I ask.

"Well, sure I do, but I'm no publisher. They are the ones who decide what to print. Personally, everyone who may have heard your stories might buy your books, but you'll have to get past the publisher and editor." She sees my shoulders droop as she reaches the truck stop. "But if all you can think about is that, then you do it. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and you'll go far in this world. Good luck, kid. I hope you find what you're looking for."

I climb out of the cab and hop to the ground. I wave goodbye as I slowly make my way into the woods and out into the desert. My going is slow and cautious as I finally find my goal, a battlefield with the action still going at full swing. Flying high and angry are mechanical beings fighting similar beings on the ground. I smirk softly as I watch the display from a safe distance.

"Retreat! Back to base!" a gray and black robot shouts, flying overhead the ground robots. It spots me and opens fire. The trees around me turn into a fiery inferno as I dart forward and duck down to the ground quickly to hide underneath a nearby rusty old trailer.

"Autobots and Decepticons. Lovely..." I mutter to myself sarcastically as I cover my head with shaking hands, listening to them retreat. The Autobots assess the damage done to the area and find me half-alive and hurt. Wounds of various sizes and degrees of badness riddle my body as I moan softly. I look weakly up into the blue optics of a small yellow robot before slipping into unconsciousness.

I wake up later on in a white-sheeted uncomfortable hospital bed. I look around my very plain and boring room and remove the various IVs and the needles from my scarred and bandaged body.

"You shouldn't do that," an elderly man states softly as he stops me by placing a hand on mine.

"What is your name?"

"Sparkplug, and this is my son, Spike."

"Hello," a young brown hair man waves gently to me.

"My name is Christal Falcon," I return to them.

"What were you doing the middle of a battlefield anyways? You could have been killed," Sparkplug chastises me.

I duck my head as I sheepishly answer, "No one back east listens to me when I tell stories to them, so I ran away to find the Autobots as well as ask them if they would be my friends. Sounds silly? I know big machines like them, friends with a puny little human cub? Go ahead and laugh. I don't care what you, or anyone else says or does." I bury my face into my hands and sob. My arms go around my knees as I weep softly. The two adults look at each other as there is a knocking on my door. Sparkplug gets up from sitting on the side of my bed and opens the door.

"Why is she crying, Sparkplug?" a third voice asks the man.

"She thinks that we will poke fun at her wanting to be friends with you Autobots." My head shoots straight up as I immediately recognize the small yellow Autobot who pulled me free of the rusty and very much crushed trailer.

"Bumblebee!" I jump out of the bed quickly and hug the yellow Autobot. My young 10-year-old arms just not reaching around the Autobot's broad metal chest.

"You okay, kid?" I turn my head slightly and see a red Autobot of similar design to Bumblebee.

"Yes, Cliffjumper. Please, could I please have the Autobots as my friends?" Both Autobots are taken back at my meek request.

"I don't know with us fighting against the Decepticons..."

"I understand. What good can a human child can do against them?" I release the yellow Autobot and turn sadly away from them.

"It's not that, but, well... Cliffjumper, we should take her and her request before Optimus."

"I agree. Sparkplug, see about checking her out of here." I sit gloomily on the bed, not hearing them at all.

A couple of minutes later, Sparkplug comes back into the room, places my clothes and backpack on my bed, shoos everyone out of the room, closing the door behind him. I look at the T-shirt, pants, and other clothes, dress slowly and a little painfully, and open the door. My head cast down to the ground as I sigh, wincing slightly. Spike takes my small hand and follows the two Autobots down to the main floor. They transform, and a green jeep rolls up next to them. I smile slightly as I motion to the jeep. Spike releases my small hand as he and Sparkplug get into Bumblebee. I gleefully hop into the driver's seat and buckle my seat belt.

"Rock and roll, Hound," I squeal happily to the jeep.

He chuckles as we race away from the hospital. My hands rest on Hound's steering wheel, pretending to drive. We pass a couple of police officers who smile and wave at us. I wave back at them as we create a dust storm and finally reach their home base. I stand amazed as Hound lifts me up onto his shoulder. I place my arm around his head to help me stay balanced on his shoulder. Hound carries me to the main control room as I look around at the many assorted robots gathered around a large red and blue Autobot. Nearby and off to the side with his arms crossed is an almost completely gray robot that towers over the red and blue robot. Next to the red and blue Autobot are a white sportish Autobot and a rusty red bulky robot. I hear one of the smaller ones pout and mumble as I turn my head to look at the small blue and red Autobot who mutters to himself again. I stifle a chuckle with my hand. With incredible ease, I jump down off Hound's shoulder, much to the shock of everyone. I smirk as I hold out my hand to the towering red and blue Autobot.

"Greetings, Optimus Prime. My name is Christal Falcon. I have traveled from my home in Georgia to speak with you." Behind me I hear Hound, Bumblebee, and Cliffjumper chuckle as Optimus kneels down and very gently shakes my hand.

"You seem to know so much about us. How?" Optimus asks me. I look into the sapphire blue optics as I smile softly.

"I saw you in a dream. My family as well as those around me look down at such things." I sigh softly. "I have no friends back home, and my family don't care about me as much as a family should. I do my classes and score high in them, but they ignore me. My brother pretends that he is dumb thus gets attention from everyone, drawing it away from me. I do all sorts of things only to have him make a big fuss and then take away my spotlight. My family pays more attention to him than they do to me, and I am the first born child of my family. Please, could the Autobots become my friends? I would dearly love to have you as my friends. I will understand if you decide not to with your war with the Decepticons." I sigh softly, a single tear going down my sadden face as I turn away from the giant Autobot. Very gently, he lifts me up into his arms, cradling me against his body. I turn my head close to his chest plate and sob softly.

"Autobots, we will decide by secret ballot on her request. Please be honest when you vote and do not hold anything against this human. Is this understood?" Everyone nods as Optimus carries me out of the room. "My vote is for, Jazz."

"Gotcha', Optimus," the white sportish Autobot answers as he marks it down on the voting pad. Optimus carries me outside the base and sets me down on the grass. He reclines next to me, offering me his friendship even if the rest of the Autobots vote against my request.

"Do you want to go on a hike?" Optimus asks me.

I smile softly as I wipe my face and nod softly. He gets up off the grass and lifts me up onto his shoulder. I laugh softly as I look at the world around us.

"You're not afraid of heights?" I shake my head as I answer.

"No, Optimus. Sometimes, a wind forms the around me which would pick me up. Almost as though by moving my hands a certain way, I become airborne. The first time I was lifted up into the air, I was scared, but eventually, I got used to it. Sometimes I can even call lightning down to strike an area and create a small fire if I so wished it." I smile as he treks onwards into the woods. "Mmm. Beautiful. Sometimes, I wish that all the worlds can see the beauty around them and appreciate it; however, who am I to change human nature's wish to rush to do everything." I sigh as the wind picks up around us. The next thing Optimus knows is I am airborne and floating at optic level with him, my back facing him as I watch the sun slowly start to set.

"We had best head back to base. The voting should be done by now." I nod as I smile over my shoulder.

"Race you back to base, Optimus. Whenever you're ready." I can feel his smirk behind his faceplate as he transforms.

"On your mark, get set, go!" he shouts as he roars away from me. I stand still in the air as I tap my foot in the air, waiting for him to get so far ahead. Then, I take off after him, flying low to the ground and eventually catching up on him. I do not push myself to beat him but to merely tie with him as we enter the control room.

"A tie, Optimus," I smile softly as everyone else is shocked at the sight of me hovering in the air.

"Well, Jazz. What is the verdict?"

"I've got some good news and some bummer news. Which do you want first?"

"Bummer?" Optimus asks curiously.

"Yes, human slang for bad. Best take the bad news first, then that way the good will not be so badly affected," I answer, shaking my head softly as I smile gently.

"Jazz, the bad news?"

"Well, Christal's parents are worried sick about her. They think that she may have been killed...."

"Cool," I exclaim. All of them look at me dumbfoundly.

"That is not cool," Jazz states.

"It is to me. Shows that they do care about me. Perhaps my little journey has opened their eyes at last."

"Good news is that we voted yeah to her request."

I smile softly as I then sigh. "I guess I had best head home before they declare me dead, and we can not have that, can we?"

"Sky Fire, will you and Jazz take Christal back home in...."

"Albany, Georgia," I supply. Everyone looks at me in shock as I smirk. "I hitch hiked cross country, okay?"

"But that is dangerous," Mirage, the blue and white Formula 1 racer, states softly to me.

"No worse than getting this for a present from my god father, who ever he was," I state as I carefully show them a sword unlike any other.

"Where get sword? Me Grimlock want know."

I chuckle as I make a couple of weak passes with the sword before turning the ring on the hilt to create two blades. I do a couple of swings before recombining the blades into one and sheathing it again into the plain scabbard that went with it.

"It was given to my father the day I was born. He was told not to give it to me until I turned 10. Well, I turned 10 and never received this sword. I found out about it when we were cleaning some stuff out of the house we live in and found it at the bottom of a box marked Christal. I read the note with it, and took it with me."

"Ha! That sword puny compared to me Grimlock’s sword." He pulls out his sword and lowers it down to me.

"So I see. Among the human swords, this one is impressive; however, your sword is very good, Grimlock."