Five

Heart is jumping through my chest.

Mad red flames licking at the sky.

  Black sky,

     no moon in the black.

I look down.

       How did I get here?

Hand is burned, long bug crawling up.

Animal coming,

                    coming,

                                coming, up and over me.

Its hoof clips me.

Breath gone.

Arm like the world;

    on fire.

Breath back in short bursts.

   Get up, world swirls.

Hand still burned.

More animals.

Screaming like the trees.

Nothing to do but

    join them.

Feet slapping, sizzling,

Leaves are falling, crying stars around me.

Mind hurts,

So bad

So bad

So bad

   This hurt is so bad.

Heart wails and dances rapidly,

                               Stop that.

Trees reach after me.

 Save me.

    How to save the trees, how, how, how.

Animals fall around me.

More stars, burn bright.

                                 There’s anger everywhere.

                    Skin glows with angry kisses.

       Air; it comes,

but barely.

Slap at trees,

Run after animals.

Now walk.

                     Crawl.

                                  Stop.

Murdered beings collapse around me.

   Sigh, sigh, they say.

      Heaving myself up

Yes, on my feet and-

Ground is gone

      Flying

      Flying

        Flailing

FRRUSHHHHH.

A watery hand snatches me up.

Upside down Air is gone

Need air

          Need

___________

     It feels like being born, my re-awakening. There is the sensation of floating, and then, with a harsh jerk, I am shoved onto a scrubby surface.

     For a moment, all is still.

     And then my mind explodes; a sharp finger of fire crackling to life in my head. Water spews out of my lungs in a terrible eruption, my throat muscles not letting me get a breath in edgewise.

     Finally, I gasp for air like a fish, loudly and desperately. My fingers clutch at the sharp stones of the bank and pull my body further away from the river I was just vomited from.

     Every limb wails at this; I must stop. Everything seems fuzzy and confused, but sharper than it was before. The sounds of nature taunt, the scent of grass and fresh water torture. Balmy sunlight beats down upon my soggy, torn up body. My senses ring with clarity and sting with river water.

     A very long time passes before I open my eyes.

     At first, it is as if nothing happens. Black still covers the entirety of the world in a sheet. Then, with the rhythm of my racing heartbeat, the darkness disintegrates and slowly my surroundings take shape.

     The river is pounding its lifeblood alongside a very tall, very steep rock face. Angry torrents thrust into the air and then crash down, chasing its own self down the bank.

     Yet, I survived this.

     With a loud, unfeminine groan, I toss myself from my stomach onto my back and immediately regret it. The sharp rocks pierce the gashes I already have. When I look down to survey the damage done to myself, the outlook is not pleasing. Blood seeps from almost every limb. Cuts, bruises, gashes, swelling riddle my skin. Bringing a hand to my face, I flinch at the barest touch. Not much better. The plain shirt and trousers I am wearing, with the exception of a rip at the bottom of the trousers, are in surprisingly good shape.

     The change from riverbank to grass and woods sits five or six feet away, but it looks like an eternity. Summoning up any courage and strength left in my body, I begin the arduous task of moving. Sitting up brings on a wave of nausea so fierce I buckle over and involuntarily try to vomit again, dry heaving on an already empty stomach. I sit for a spell with my forehead resting on my knees until the urge to pass out fades away.

     One quick motion.

     Drawing it out will hurt more.

     I must do this, must get my cold body moving.

     Alright.

     One.

     Two.

     Two and a half.

     Two and a little more.

     Ugh. Three.

     I hoist myself to my feet. Immediately I stumble off to the side, catching myself on the grass and getting right back up. The ground wavers and seems unsure of how far it is from my face. My breath oozes out in slow, noisy drags. I walk over to a nearby tree to lean on it, gathering in some air and calming my heart.

     Short pieces of what happened return to me. It only stretches back to the fire, though. Running, getting hit by an animal, falling off the cliff.

     What happened before that?

     Why was I so incompetent? My thoughts had come stupid and primal, as if drugged.

     It hurts, trying to think back that far. My mind is still water-logged and slow.

     Stop it.

     Stop feeling bad for yourself.

     I massage my temples, and stand away from the tree. The sound of the thrashing river makes sense to me. Rushing water means clean water. It will have to be purified by boiling over a fire, but it is one less thing to worry about.

     The birds chirping from the ground a while off means food that can be trapped. And feathers, which can be stuffed into cloth to make a pillow. A deer, the animal that clipped my head (I gently probe the area; yep, still very tender), can be killed for meat and hide, as well as bait for other animals. Scavengers, who travel in packs, will come for the meat. It could be double the food, but it could also mean danger if they get riled up enough.

     Better stick with the birds.

     The calculating and thinking calms me; I've stopped shivering an have allowed myself to begin drying by sunlight.

     I sit down again, feeling safe for now. The area is blocked on one side by the river and cliff, and by a thick patch of woods on the other. My head throbs with all the movement. Some sleep would be okay, in the circumstances. Just a little sleep...

     "Hey!"

     "Hey, get up!"

     A deep, hurried voice breaks through the dark. I slowly come to, sitting up and rubbing my aching eyes. The sky has turned black with night, chilly air soaking into my unwilling skin. Animal calls and jeers echo from not too far off.

     Someone roughly grabs my upper arm and wrenches me to my feet. I yelp, instinctively trying to pull my arm back. The culprit, a strapping young man of tall height and dark blonde hair, drops it and forcefully pushes me with a harsh slap to the back. In the dark of night, the sounds of hunting predators grows closer.

     "Run, woman! They're coming!"

     "Who?" I holler, craning my neck around, "Who is coming? Who are you?"

     "No time to talk, just run!" Just as the man says this, an arrow the size of my arm span comes whistling through and embeds itself in the tree inches from my head with a sharp thwap.

     Run, we shall.

     The man and I surge forwards, crashing through the thick foliage. I try extremely hard to ignore the pain it causes me, but my muscles scream and tear and protest with every step. I should not be running. Hot tears fill my vision, but I quickly brush them away, for they make it hard to see where I'm going. The yips and shrieks fill the forest with a terrible, violent energy.

     "Who are they?" I wheeze, already breathing hard.

     "I'm not sure." My mysterious companion holds a tree limb up, and I hurriedly crawl under and resume my race through the black of night. After catching up, he continues. "I woke up from a nasty fall, I can't remember much. There was this fi-oomph." One second the man is running alongside me, the next, he's on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his leg. His yell of pain overlaps that of the approaching predators.

     I dash over to his aid, putting his hefty arm over my shoulder and heaving upwards. The man scrambles to help, grunting and grabbing at his leg, but it's obvious he cannot move. A slick sheen of sweat glistens on his face.

     "Go, find a village or something! I'll try to keep them away!"

     "You don't know what they'll do to you!" Panicked beyond belief, I look to where I can see green forms getting closer, then back to the pale face of the man who just saved me.

     "I'm staying with you." My voice comes out squeaky yet clear, and the man looks horrified.

     In moments, we are surrounded. I stare with wide eyes at the people around us. They are not clad in any clothes but the barest of coverage, and their feral, red eyes roll with anger. The most nonsensical thing about them, however, is their emerald, shining skin. Each individual has skin every shade of green, rich and dull and bright and dark alike. Their tall, skinny frames are solid muscle, their faces tattooed with all sorts of markings. Sharp teeth point out from their pierced perch in the ears of these savages, clinking against spears and arrows pointed at us by deft hands.

     I am too awed to do much, so when the net is thrown, I barely begin to acknowledge it before they've rolled me up, separated me from the man, and hefted me onto their shoulders.

     Then it hits me, and I scream. It is a sharp noise of fear and exultation, birthed from a place I did not even know was in me.

     A savage brings his staff up and whacks me over the head.

     It is enough.