The pain was still there when Amara awoke, and although she was in a nice bed, so were twenty other girls squished into this tiny room, moaning and twisting and turning like angry banshees. A small wet towel dabbed across her face, and the coldness creeped up her body. A tiny hand grabbed at her own stronger muscular ones and Amara stared at the face of the person before her, a little girl. This girl was fairly pretty for her age, with high cheekbones and dazzling blue eyes, sweet sensual lips that twisted in a soft smile at the edges, and skin that was light brown like a cafe au lait. She was no more than 12 years old, but she must've been here for a long time, for she was beginning to look very tired and her clothes were ragged at the edges.
"I'm Nala. Do you know where you are? You were screaming in the night...for Solo. Who's Solo?" Her voice was calm and sweet, and her words flowed like caramel.
"Who are you?" Amara asked, dazed.
"I just told you," Nala replied calmly, "I'm Nala, and I'm here to take care of you."
"Nala....for how long?" Amara got up and hugged her kness between her chest, a small tear flicking out of the corner of her pupil.
"At least a couple-- I don't know. I really don't know." Amara knelt down again and covered her head with the blanket, falling asleep with the sounds of girls screaming beside her.
It was mid-morning when Amara woke up again, and the room was almost empty, with the exception of a few girls leaving. The warm sunlight touched her skin softly, like her mother's touch. It calmed her, and she smiled to herself slowly, the edges of her lips curling and dimples across her cheeks. She stretched her arms, and leant over the bed. Two blue eyes stared back at her intently.
"You've woken!" Nala climbed out from under the wooden frame and shook some dust off of her pale yellow dress. "I thought you wouldn't make it through the night...most don't." She admitted. Her blue eyes were piercing and seemingly knew all. They were wise for a child's eyes. They had seen it all: through the war, opression, poverty, evil, heartbreak. They hardly knew what happiness truly was.
"Oh well." Amara responded awkwardly to the silence, swiftly changing into a dark blue jean dress that had been altered to make it more 'feminine'.
"Nice dress, eh?" Nala eyes it quietly, "I think master Konou altered it. He's really taken a liking to you." Amara ignored the comment and stared at herself through the dirty mirror. The figure staring back at her looked unsociable, savage, and unhuman, but it was the new her. She quietly grabbed at the hand of Nala and squeezed it softly.
"Thank-you. I may not like this life, but you saved me."
"Let's go, it's too hard to think about that now, though. You've just gotten here anyways."