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Sandrina looked at the piece of parchment that Anora was holding out in front of her. There on the paper just as she had said, there was a sketch of the necklace that hung around her neck. The words that she had written were scribbled with a small slant as if the writer was excited.
A memory stirred. A memory of sitting at the oak desk and writing furiously, happily to her friend about the amazing gift her parents had made for her before the trip.
Sandrina looked up and smiled, a bright and cheerful smile that was filled with hope.
"I remember that. I remember doing that!" Sandrina exclaimed, her heart racing, "That was before, before my cousins..."
Sandrina stopped, her eyes gazed far away in thought. The memories of the fall made her head throb in pain. She rubbed her right temple, trying to ease it.
"I was beaten," Sandrina whispered as realizations of what truly happened came to her mind. She could only see a fragment of her memories in her minds eye, but she could see it all the same. Their clubs came swiftly down upon her in anger. Yes, she had been beaten and left for dead.
She looked up at the small group that formed. She looked each of them in the eyes, hoping to find something of realization in them as well. She saw shock within them.
"Where are they?" Sandrina asked, her small, delicate hands clenching in anger.
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