mud, ice, blood. (part 3)

This is part three of a story that doesn't have a title yet. It's ok if you haven't read the first two parts, but I would encourage it.

I am aware that a lot of this installation just describes the coldness of feet over and over and over again. I don't think I needed to describe blood and feet so much. I wish i could be more plot driven, but at least i'm developing the characters...right? 

Plot is so, so...HAARRRDDD.

here goes.

I’m awake now, in the sharp darkness behind my eyelids.

I can feel the sun on my skin, the lightness. But it’s a cold light, one that hasn’t fully penetrated my bones. I shift my back against the post and open my eyes. Time to begin running again.

Standing up is hard. I feel so stiff; from the cold, from leaning against a pole for several hours… Naz isn’t even there anymore.

My feet are caked with the mud from last night. I scratch one with the other, and a piece of it chips off near the ankle.

The mud on the ditch is slippery with half-formed ice. Three foot-paths are now visible with the day. Two that have sloping, smooth inclines for each indent. One that has holes smashed into it. cracks formed haphazardly, that map into each other. Like the all waterways in Ryns.

I'm careful to step in these reckless, unwelcome hollows, instead of those made last night, that are smooth and slippery. Nevertheless, it's hard to keep upright. The smashed fragments of ice are jagged and cold, and release trickles of just-melted foggy liquid between my toes. I take an awkward step, and gasp with surprise and pain as I see red mix with the brown- a piece of ice’s cut my sole open. I stumble forward, limping now, my eyes watering.

“Hey.”

I swerve my head, almost falling with the sudden movement of it.

Amber eyes stare back at me. They blink, calmly.

“Hey, Naz.” I can feel my own eyes narrowing with irritation. “Get any sleep?”

“No. Nice of you to join me, though.” Naz shrugs, almost apologetically. Not quite, though.

I sigh heavily, for effect, mostly- and his posture slumps down with the subtle guilt. That’s more like it.

“Probably for the better, the position you were in. I can’t believe you didn’t fall off. Give me a hand, will you?”

Naz isn’t listening. He’s looking through me now. This is a side effect; He sleeps without closing his eyes sometimes.

“Naz.”

A shiver runs through him. “Uh...Fine. ” But he stays where he is.

A short, stiff silence passed between us before I repeat my question. “Can you pull me out? Because my feet are cold. It hurts. A lot. Naz. ”

He blinks. "Oh yeah. Sorry," he says, rising from his crouch and extending his arm over the platform. I grab onto it for support, but there isn’t much there; Naz is skinny, without much muscle on him. I have to balance almost all my weight on my injured foot so I can step onto the platform with the other.

My feet are pinkened and swollen, and as I walk, I notice the spots dark splotches that stain the ground, even after the water on my soles wear off into the concrete. The cut is probably deeper than I expected, the pain numbed by the ice. It’ll come back, the pain, once I’ve got my feet in shoes, but I’m going to have to clean it unless I want to get an infection that will mean worse than having a limp for a day or two. Who knows what’s hiding in that dirt. Somebody probably pissed in it, the way this Patch looks.

I on the edge of the platform where the water is trapped between two perpendicular walls. It spills along and over the platform and spits on my coat.

“ Couldn’t you have stomped a little softer? Those footholds are really rough. You cut my foot open.”

“Did you?”Naz replies from behind me. “Imagine trying to make those. Scratched me pretty badly, too.” When I look around to him he lifts up a foot to show me. There’s blood covering his toes and up towards his ankle. He puts it down and winces.

“ You should clean that. It’s going to get infected.” I tell him, returning my glance to what’s in front of me.

“I already did. I’m still bleeding, though.”

“Wash them again. Then put on your shoes.”

Naz gives me a dubious stare. “ They’ll get stained.”

“Too bad. Do you want for your feet to fall off, or do you want to have some slightly used-looking shoes? It’s your choice,” I say as I plunge my footin the water. I can hardly feel it now, the cold. only the dimness of it, taking refuge in my bones. “Why were you out there, anyway? Could’ve saved us the trouble.”

“Stars. They were really clear last night.”I laugh suddenly, cutting off his breath and giving him an alarmed glance towards me.

“The stars? As dreamy as that sounds, it doesn’t mean you’ll actually sleep, Naz.” I pull my foot out and examine the gash. it’s on the ball of my foot, and x shaped, the blood already rising out of the crack and running down to drip on the ground. I wipe it with my coat. “See? No big deal. I’ll wash it later.”

“You don’t know how hard it is to get blood out of something, Ben.”