(with shameless inspiration from and admiration for the genius of T. H. Mafi)
She stands up. She's in the middle of an encampment not unlike one would see in a Robin Hood retelling. "Where am I?"
A young man was sitting beside her. He scrambles up and drops a rope to the ground. "I think I just saved your life."
She looks at him, frowning. "Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
For a moment, their expressions are confused. Then the man says, "Oh no!"
"The author's gone!"
Her eyes widen. "Where'd she go? What happened? Why'd she leave us?"
"I don't know." He looks around the camp as if he's seeing the destructive, Persian-era army for the first time. "Somebody's got to stop them! With the author gone, they'll never stop destroying the camp!"
She cocks an eyebrow in disdain, obviously not impressed with his dramatics. "I think you're their general," she says dryly.
"Right." He puts two fingers in his mouth and lets forth a shrill whistle. A few of the soldiers stop, but most of them continue with their destruction. The man swallows. "At this rate, there won't be anything left when the author gets back!"
The girl takes a deep breath and mutters, "If she comes back. I think we bored her."
He wrinkles his nose, the army forgotten. "She got bored with us?"
"She said it was only a for a few days, but I'm not sure."
"But...but...I thought we were going to be the story! You know, her big break! The one she was sending out to all the mysterious agents!"
The girl shrugs. "I did, too. And maybe she still will." But she doesn't look too convinced. Then she adds, "I hear she's working on another one..."
The man's eyes are wild. "Another one?!"
"Everyone knows that fantasy's better than dystopian," says the man.
The girl crosses her arms and seems to stare out at nothing. She's looking towards an invisible computer screen, hoping that, somehow, someway, her glare will make it through and bring the author back. "Tell her that."