Puzzle Pieces of Stories I Probably Won't Write

6, 7, 8

6.

This is a Ranger's Apprentice thing, so if you haven't read the first book you won't really understand

Prologue

The brunette girl walked into the woods, grasping her bow and arrow with her hand. She had just come from the overwhelming village; the forest was her safe spot.

They didn't get many of her kind. For, she was a ranger's daughter.

She wasn't quite sure whose daughter she was, though. Like the boy Halt had told her about, named Will, she had been delivered to a doorstep with a note while she was young. But instead of going to the ward's, she was found at Halt's door. And kept a secret from most of the world.

Though she had been delivered when she was a bit older, she and Will would be about the same age at this time, perhaps with a few months difference.

But why Will was so important to her, was because in a few days time, this boy's future would shape her own. Because if Halt chose him as an apprentice, which she knew was a very likely option, she would have to become virtually invisible-to everyone, even Halt himself.

Halt was like a father to her, but she understood he owed her nothing and she owed him everything. So she understood it would be necessary for her to disappear once Halt took on an apprentice.

And now was the time.

She had walked quite a bit farther into the woods by now, getting lost in her joyless thoughts of the day, when suddenly she heard a noise. She moved into a crouch silently and swiftly, shielded by tall ferns on all sides. It had come from directly in front of her, perhaps a few meters forward. But that makes no sense, she thought. I would've heard it long before now if it was that close.

The birds had stopped chirping, and all was silent. She couldn't even describe what the noise was like. It hadn't even seemed to come through her ears. More like her brain.

So she pressed on. Silently, slowly and carefully she picked up her right foot and slid it through the air, letting it fall to the ground a few inches away. Somehow, she felt the grains of dirt-no, sand- warp around her foot and pull her in completely in one swift, soft motion.

Chapter 1

I stalked through the forest, crouching, silent. It had taken a few minutes, but a ranger could gather themselves quickly after unexpected events. And falling through quicksand, that hadn't been there before, into another forest at a different time of day was certainly unexpected. I wasn't even entirely sure I got out of bed this morning, that this wasn't all a dream. I stopped for a second, pausing to hear a specific noise more clearly.

It was a voice. Not multiple, just one. I wasn't close enough to make out what it was saying, but it seemed to be talking to itself, I realized, once I had advanced enough east to hear the clumsy, loud footsteps. Only one pair, I thought. I didn't have to be close to figure that out.

I walked closer through the ferns, avoiding a particularly spiky one. There, over that log, I thought. Over that log, a big hollow oak one with a hole in the middle big enough for me to fit through, was a boy, walking through the forest, mumbling to himself. I looked around the scene. There didn't seem to be anything dangerous near him or I, but I couldn't be sure. For a few moments longer, I continued observing him. He had blonde hair, like many Araluens and Skandians. He had odd clothes; baggy black pants with a white stripe down the middle and a dark, electric blue shirt, sporting a snake saying something I couldn't read due to my vantage point.

Observing his movements now, I watched his hand move towards a plant, to get it out of his path, presumably. But before that could happen, I realized something. And I jumped out of my hiding place to prevent it.

"Wait. Stop!" I warned, my hand outstretched towards him. He jumped back and made, what I had to say, was the girliest yelp I've ever heard. I smothered my chuckle.

7.

"XANDER! Wait! PLEASE! STOP! I DON'T GET IT!" I shouted as I chased him across the grassy plateau. But he had too much of a head start.

He turned around to look at me as he shouted, "YOLO, AMIRITE?" as he jumped into the depths of the whirlpool swirling below the towering cliffs. The neon green tips of his hair were the last I saw of him for five years.

8.

Be prepared to be weirded out by what I'm about to tell you, because to you, it's quite peculiar. It's just the way we are though.

Everyone's born with a bead, a multicolored bead.

Bead colors are genetic.

So if anyone can tell me why my parents got yellow and blue beads, please do.

'Cuz I don't know how I could've ended up with a pink bead.

I was also born with a bead in the palm of my hand. How far the bead is from your heart matters.

'Matter how much your friends mean to you-and how much you mean to them.

Also, I was disconnected.

Far 'way from the real world whenever you saw me.

The details of your bead also matter too.

The carvings, the cuts, how colors met-all of it. And then the government takes your bead from you, and hides it away in a big building. There you can visit it, but not for long. Recently, though, the building had a "malfunction." At least, that's what the government called it. Really, it means someone broke in and stole beads.

The people whose beads were stolen would start acting weird by the end of seven days, the government had said. Because of how much chaos had been caused, there was no way to figure out whose bead had been stolen and whose had just been put in disarray.

It was dangerous to have your bead in the hands of someone else, especially for extended amounts of time. We weren't even sure what would happen to people if their beads were within another's reach for over a week.

I twitched, something I had begun doing this week. We'd be able to figure out whose bead had been stolen by Saturday. I smiled. By Saturday, we'd finally know.

I twitched again, then went to open my closet doors. At the top shelf, hidden by clothes, was a small tote. I had painted the clear sides black. Inside, it sounded like a dozen maracas all playing together as I brought it down. When I opened it, I grinned at the sight of at least a hundred beads. But I twitched again. I knew none of them were mine, so I'd keep searching- and searching, and searching, and searching, until I could finally be reunited with it again.