Hugh Fructose Corn Syrup

Farrago watched with bright eyes as the bars that had kept her trapped for so long were knocked down in such a hurry. It was a funny feeling, this potential freedom, and Farrago was almost reluctant to leave her cell.
"What's your name, anyway?" The funny man’s question barely invaded her odd feeling, and Farrago answered absently.
“I am Farrago. Who are you?” She was suddenly surprised by her own curiosity. How long HAD it been, anyway, since she had known someone well enough to ask them their NAME? How very forward of her. The strange feeling began to wear off as the answer came.
“I’m Matthias. Well, grab your bear and stay close. We're gettin' my sword and we're gettin' outta here."

Farrago’s mind jumped. Sword? Something in her blurred memory twitched, and she struggled to remember. It passed too quickly, though, and she forgot again. Blinking, Farrago was surprised by herself again; remembrance? Recognition? What DID it all mean? Shaking off the feeling, Farrago stepped toward Matthias. His back was to her, and she squinted slightly, wondering how to get his attention. Carefully, she lifted a shaking hand from her side and reached ever so slowly toward his shoulder. One long, white finger after another rested gently on the smoothness of Matthias’ coat, and Matthias jumped, apparently startled by her touch. He turned around, and she paused a moment before remembering what on earth she’d done that for.

“Ah… do you think you could wait… just a minute? I have to gather my things.” Farrago turned slowly, and then jumped gracefully over the fallen bars. Eyeing them with disgust, she reminded herself to thank Matthias for his help in gaining her freedom. She disappeared from sight into the shadowy corner of her cell, and rummaged around for a moment. She returned suddenly, with an armful of seemingly pointless items and a rucksack. She sat down on the bars, and one by one, placed the items into the bag-a carefully folded electric blue cloak, a purple crystal bottle, a stick with a funny blue crystal on the end, some jewelry and a wooden box. Then, picking up her bear, Farrago skipped out into the torch light. “I’m ready,” she said, feeling happy. “Let’s go.”

Matthias nodded, and calmly replied. “All right.” As he set off down the hallway, Farrago skipped blithely after him, thinking how good it would be to stretch her wings as soon as they got out of this cramped corridor. It had been years, after all, since she had had the chance to fly.

Suddenly, that funny feeling of curiosity swept over her again, and a question popped involuntarily from her lips. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

A strange sense of recognition clouded her mind suddenly, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Matthias turned to answer, “I-,” but stopped short when he noticed Farrago’s odd look. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and Farrago wondered if it was concern she saw in his eyes.

The thought drifted quickly, however, and Farrago squinted unhappily into the orange torchlight. A question she had answered years before was asked again in her head, asked by a disembodied voice that had once been… a friend? “I remember. I… was… something of a scientific specimen. That man… the royal-looking one… he found me. And then I was sent down here. They poked and prodded at me for months after that. But… but…” the memory faded suddenly, and Farrago was left in darkness. She fell suddenly to her knees, and put a hand to her head. Headache… arr.

Matthias stared at her for a moment before she was able to stand up again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. Ah… what was I asking? Why’re you here?” Hugging Merlin close, Farrago spit out the question again in a quiet voice.