Her father’s land was one of the richest and most fertile estates in the Autonomy. Currently, their house was floating over the great evergreen forest that grew through most of the southern region. When Domino was younger, she ran away from home and hid in that forest, and later in other forests. That never lasted long, because her father always managed to find her. If there was one thing she could give her father, he always got what he wanted, even if it was an errant daughter in disguise half a world away.
So how in the world did Hadis expect Domino to defy him now? Domino remembered all too well what her father’s idea of punishment was, and she preferred to avoid it.
Perhaps she could kill her new husband if he proved to be unbearable. She was always willing to entertain that option, although she had never actually murdered anyone before.
She flew aimlessly for a while, enjoying the sun beating down on her back. Anchored to the ground by enormous chains, the buoys marking the edge of her father’s land blinked and bobbed. Domino swooped around them a moment because she could, but she soon tired of the game and followed a chain to the ground.
It was only midday, and the shade on the ground soothed her warm skin. She fanned her wings a moment to cool them before tucking them away. There was a small fresh water spring nearby, and Domino was thirsty. She headed for it.
She supposed that it did not matter whom she was married to in the end. All of the men in her life were cold, cruel, and selfish. Why should this new one be any different? Still there remained a nagging desire from her incubation days. She wanted to marry for love. Quite the opposite, this marriage arrangement was anything but an emotional tie. Her suitor wanted her for her DNA and her family’s power.
The spring gurgled just ahead, but Domino did not see it right away. The ferns that grew around it were thickly nestled around small brush and the odd thorn. She hopped over a whistleberry bush, mentally noting its location for future reference, and landed just on the edge of the spring. Her bare feet slid in the mud so that she lost he balance and landed on her bottom. She cursed.
She was wearing a white sarong that she just bought from the market. It had been imported from overseas and was lined with gold writing. Now it was ruined. She stood, shaking the mud from her hands and grimacing.
There were two options from there. She could fly home and change clothes, or she could stay in the forest and cope with the filth. Domino decided to cope, but not without more liberal complaining. She stripped and washed the sarong as best she could in the spring. The mud discolored the water as it ran away. Domino wrinkled her nose, thinking of how it must look on her backside.
With the sarong hung over a low branch to dry, she scavenged the area for early berries. When none were found, she contented herself with a tabora root and squatted near the tree. The forest was particularly quiet that day, and it made Domino uneasy.
She was unearthing a second root when the hair on her neck rose. Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped. Domino forgot about the root. She turned to retrieve her sarong and leave.
That was when she noticed the man standing by the spring. His bare belly hung over his pants and glistened with water. He grinned as he aimed a light bow in her direction. The bow was already charged and a plasma arrow gleamed in the release slot. Its yellow glow gave his skin a sickening color. “Hello, pretty,” he said. “Looks like I caught myself a pretty bird.”
Then he shot her in the leg.
