Adain

For those of you keeping track, this continues Naida's portion of the story from a few days ago. These blips are picking up and dropping off in the middle of a larger story that exists only in my mind. It's promising as a long term project, but right now I'm just exercising -- stretching and warming up so to speak -- by just writing whatever comes in my head. Feedback is always welcome.

Consciousness eluded him. Of darkness and pain there was plenty, but he found understinding either impossible.

Now and again, a jab of pain, a burst of light, or a cacophonous sound would pierce through the blackness for a moment, but nothing more. It was in one of these moments that he had seen her. For a moment, the haze seemed to have lifted and he clearly saw her startled worried familiar face staring down at him. He wondered when he saw her if he were dying.

When consciousness did decide to tiptoe back to him, it came slowly, creeping like a child filled with guilt and afraid of punishment. First, there was pain. Then, the sensation of the passing of time. Then he remembered the beast. He wondered how long he had lain there in the strange land, wounded and bleeding. Finally, he felt strong enough to open his eyes. The effect was little different from having his eyes closed, because there was very little light. The air was damp and cool, and strange soft noises filled his ears.

His first concern was the pain. Doing his best not to agrivate it, he turned his head to look at his side where he had been gored by the beast. The light was very dim, but he could see that someone had bound the wound in clean strips of some sort of dark cloth. He touched it, gently. The dressings were not wet with blood. Someone had done well. He suspected he would live.

Next, he turned his attention to his surroundings. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. He was in a cave, but he remembered that he was many days travel from his home. He squinted around at his surroundings in confusion. The cave was narrow, roughly triangular, shallow, and the roof was shorter than an average man. He was lying on a mat of vegetation that was soft and smelled sweet. The walls were not hewn of stone as were those of his home, but some other rough material. The roof, or what of it he could see from his position prostrate on the floor, was not solid, but rather an amalgum of unidentifiable stuffs. It reminded him of rough hewn cloth.

Before long, he heard the unmistakable noise of something approaching through the dense foliage. Gingerly, he made to sit up, and the noises increased.

"No!" said a voice. "Lie still!" Adain looked up, and his eyes widened. Even in the dim light of the cave, he recognised the pale blue eyes surrounded by white that had so often haunted his dreams.

He stared at the woman as she entered the cave. She knelt beside him and gently pushed him back to the floor. "You shouldn't try to move too much," she said. "You were hurt very badly."

Adain's mind was racing. He wanted to ask her who she was and where she came from and how she had come to be there. He wanted to ask her if she knew him and how she had found him and why she had helped him. All he managed was, "You!"

She sat back and looked at him, a fond familiarity softening the worry in her face. She nodded slowly.

"And you," she replied.

Don't get upset! There will be more, I promise.