Chapter 6
Her body rocking up and down, unfamiliarity enveloping her while she's coming back to her senses.
She's feeling everything before she recognizes what they are.
Her body rocks, jolting. A low groan vibrates around her, like the 'stomach' of some great beast dragging her deeper into itself. The floor beneath her is not warm, not wet—dead, stiff, splintering against her skin. Yet it moves, carrying her with it.
"Where.. am I?" She moans, waking up from unconsciousness.
"Somethings touching me?" She groans, the texture quickly waking her body awake.
Her cheek brushes against something coarse and uneven. It crumbles like dry husk beneath her breath. Other shapes pressing against her, hard shafts with metal tips sharp enough to sting her shoulder, slabs of iron that smells like old blood, and sacks sagging heavy.
Her entire body, feels weighed down by something unnatural.
"It's.. so heavy!" She groans.
Her chest feels tight, She claws at something enveloping her body — some sort of blanket covering her. Deep red, its surface crawling with raised lines she did not understand. They prickle faintly under her touch, as though whispering against her skin.
"Feels horrible" she thinks, quickly taking it off of her — revealing more cloth cupping her breasts and crotch.
Then a ray of light hit her from a hole above before disappearing.
"Ack!"
Her heartbeat rises, the light feels warm but that was never a good sign.
"I'm in danger"
For her, the air here was wrong.
"It's peaceful."
Her tears start to swell, her eyes darting, head shaking and her hands pushed against the 'dead' floor beneath her.
"I'm never peaceful"
There is no longer pulsing in the walls. No whispers. No wet chewing in the dark.
Instead—
chirp chirp
A sound sharp as splintered bone above her.
And beneath, a steady grind, a crunching rhythm that shakes her spine every few breaths.
Metal clattering. Voices murmuring my, low and constant.
"There's something out there"
"How did I get here?"
She looks around, trying to find something to anchor herself with.
The unfamiliar noises all around her, too many.
Then she isolates it, sounds of metal clanking on dirt, all around her in unison.
Her breath picks up, her chest rises and falls fast erratically.
Her breathing in disarray, she's never heard this sound before but she somehow knew.
"They're all around me" she whispers, while holding her mouth shut—the tears pooling, begging to fall.
Her ribs strain, hiding the sounds of her nervous breathing.
Her body screamed,
"stay still. Hide. Do not move."
But the stillness burns. Every passing second, the strange refreshing breeze presses against her chest, each breath too shallow, too thin.
Nothing was familiar, the noises gnawing on her sanity until she could no longer bear it.
Every single noise, sensation, vision that she experiences blanketing her very thoughts.
As if to silence the loudness, her scream tears freely, raw and animal.
She wants out.
Her fists rips at the walls around her. Wood cracks. Splinters biting her knuckles as she clawed forward, tearing fabric until the 'stomach' splits open.
"AARRGH" She roars, head peaking out, her hands scooping out her body with her front leg stepping on broken wood.
The 'stomach' stops it's movement, a creature neighing while it does and so did her surroundings.
Daylight pours in. White, green. It stabs into her eyes. Her crimson pupils shrinks to pinpricks, tears now finally dropping down her cheeks. She staggers backward, choking from the view.
The world around her stretches wide open.
The faint feeling of freedom, scenery so beautiful and then memories strike her mind.
She can never forget that vision — the birth of her thoughts.
In front of her are the same oak tree she saw in her dream, it soothes her mind and soul until she pans out on the several hundred more of them, scattered throughout—their leaves whispering in the wind.
The ground was blanketed with them, an ocean of trunks and leaves. Like the dream. But worse. Too many.
It's Smothering, frustrating even.
Then below, there are 'them'.
Dozens of 'them', all standing in a pattern.
The familiar brokenness of each being echoing in her head — yet they're complete.
They were the 'thing' yet they're unsullied.
Closest to her are those wearing coverings like the one she threw away, the same deep red stitched with crawling patterns. They huddle together, with one bearing a lengthy stick with a cloth that has marks akin to a red lizard, fire going out its throat. On their hands, there are heavy slabs inscribed with marks that seemed to squirm under the sun.
They all jolt in surprise, all starting to sketch using the black tipped stick in their hands.
On her right, thick and broad from the heavy iron they wear. One holding the same stick, but now with the markings of the trees surrounding them. Their arms bracing behind vast white walls of steel and wood, tall and rectangular, locking together in a line.
They march forward, urging the red-covered ones to hide themselves behind their walls as if for safety.
On her left stood figures bound in silver-iron, their forms slimmer, their faces sharp. Their eyes glittering in anticipation, each breath drawn tight, their bodies poised as though ready to spring. Still, they bear that same stick, marked with a black winged beaked lion.
All looking towards her, waiting.
Her vision blurs, unsure of what to do.
"Too many"
"They're all around, some I can't even see!"
Pant
Huff
Pant
She breathes heavily, her eyes reflecting the unfamiliar sun.
Fight or flight.
There was no time to think, no time to hesitate — she had to create an opening.
Her body leaps before thought.
She crashes down upon the nearest of the red-covered ones, her fingers curled.
"MOVE!!" she growls, trying to intimidate.
Her hands looked human, but her nails had grown long, pointed—sharpened like daggers.
They struck—
thock.
"UACK!"
Not flesh. Something unseen stops the blow, squishy yet firm, like a baloon stretching taut. It bends, pushes back, and her fingertips from which her nails are attached to bleeds.
Pain rings through her fingers all the way to her arms. She snarles, kicking instead. Caught by surprise, the red robed frantically sketches while chanting but she was faster.
Her heel slamming into the figure's chest, The person flies backward, colliding with more of their kind. They tumble in a heap, slabs scattering, dust rising.
she hisses, "LET ME GO!"
The unhit red-covered ones yelp, scrambling farther behind the white walls.
The heavy plated ones presses further forward, their massive walls bracing together, unbroken.
The silver-iron figures held their ground, eyes fixating on her. Until slowly, They part. Not in fear but in some tense readiness, making way.
Her claws dripping blood where the barrier had bitten her back. She crouches low, teeth baring, chest rapidly breathing.
"Inhuman"
"That's not a girl."
"Why is she strong?"
A black clothed man with red inseams shouts from a tree across, directly above the pile of red robes.
"HOLD YOUR TOES, AWAIT ORDERS!"
murmurs from the horde increases but they pass to the back of her mind.
She was still surrounded.
Behind her, the wooden shell of what she thought to be a 'stomach'. Beastly 'things' on her left, heavy unmovable 'things' on her right and red robes in front, now slowly standing back up.
"My only chance!" She exclaims, not wanting them to stand back up — she sprints like a beast towards them.
The troops' eyes watching her every move, in fear, disgust, uncertainty all waiting for orders — all they know is that the frail young girl they had carried was gone. What stood before them was feral, violent, unnatural and strong.
The robes frantically picking up their slabs, the sound of flipping fills the air, inches away from her claws.
She lunges forward, trying to make way—her hand cutting the air and going through the motion of pushing the side, preparing to lunge again.
Then—
CLANK.
Her movement stops.
Frozen in fear — No, she's frozen in authority.
Emerging from those beastly 'things', a sound unlike the rest marching forward step by step — Metal heavy as a mountain striking stone.
The beastly horde finally splits.
Through it strides a figure clad in black iron, taller and broader than all the others — his shoulder marked the same as that stick but coloured red. His lance exuding an aura that freezes her body.
His steps rang like hammers on stone.
At his side came an abomination, no—it was a true beast. It looked like their markings wingout the wing and beak — Its mane bristled like fire, two horns curved low and two more piercing upwards alongside its golden eyes locking upon her. She doesn't know what it even is but
"It feels similar to my vines."
Its growl was not sound but weight, rumbling through the air until her spine aches with it.
"WHAT ARE YOU 'THINGS'?!" she demands.
"TELL ME! WHERE AM I? HOW DID I GET HERE?"
Her claws flexed. Her throat gulps.
"Things?" The black clad answered.
"What is she talking about?"
"Is she even human?"
"If she moves towards me, I'm stabbing her."
The crowd murmurs.
"Stab me?"
"Human?"
The familiar word ringing in her bones, her pose lowering even more, preparing to strike.
"Are you human?" She asked in a fierce tone
Stance lowering, arms widened—her eyes darting to find an escape.
"I need to get out!" She rushes herself.
The air ripples in energy and it seems like she was the only one who notices.
Her movement shakes, her head turning towards it — her eyes meeting the black clad's figure.
"Of course we are, are you not?" The black clad asks, in a welcoming but testing tone.
The beast growling louder, body tense and ready to strike when ordered.
Shivers run through her spine, the stares of the 'humans' piercing her back and the familiar vibrating all around the air.
"I.."
"I don't know." She answers
The mood shift, suddenly.
Even the men could notice it.
The beast still growling but now lower in volume, it's body now observing again — eyes still locked in case she goes rogue.
The black clad's eyes relaxed, as if he feels relief — as if he feels something from her.
He lowers his weapon and walks closer.
Each step now losing it's authoritative resonance.
He waves his gauntleted hand, commanding the rest to back away.
The humans and his beast slowly backing up, clankering and dragging of dirt taints the silence.
Her head darting back and forth, slowly walking backwards before looking back at the black clad.
She glares at him from below, never blinking—never breaking contact. Her stance closer now, anticipating an attack.
But it never came.
She notices the hostility, the dread emanating from most figures but when he moved, nothing strikes her instinct.
"Huh?"
Confusion runs through her body.
The black clad knelt in front of her, gently placing his hand on her head.
"You're human too you know?" He says, in monotone but somehow — it feels endearing.
Her body recoils in some sort of wave, she didn't recognize these feelings.
The warmth she's been feeling, finally removes instead of putting pressure on her shoulders.
Tears pouring out her eyes, without her knowing, not within her control.
"I'm human?"
"Yes." The black clad replies.
"I'm one of you?"
Her mind races, remembering her earliest memories.
The warmth of the torches, the middle of that cave hallway plagues puts pressure back.
She staggers backwards, hand blocking her mouth.
That warmth is gone, disgust fill her very being.
"That 'thing'..."
"H-human"
Her breathing shallow and inconsistent, the panic setting in could be read from her widened eyelids and shrinking pupils
The black clad takes his hand off, and puts it on her sides
"Are you okay?!"
"Talk to me!"
He demands in worry.
"Her head rolled.." she sobs.
–—
"My head."
She pukes, vomit discharging from her mouth, purple slop from her previous feed hitting the ground.
The troops murmur in chaos, the black clad staggers backwards yet still trying to comfort her.
"HEY! What happened??" He asks, in a worrying tone. His hands trying to hold her, avoiding the purple mess.
She sobs, her knees giving out and her vomiting stop.
The black clad holds her arm and pours water from his canteen onto her hand, washing away the vile purple.
Her sobs and cries fill the forest as the black clad hugs her tight and moves her along inside their food carriage.
His left arm to the side and hand pointing up, he points forward —his men and carriages followed suit.
"You're safe, don't worry." He says, as he strokes her head.
Her sobbing continued, her body no longer stiff.
For the 'first time of her life', she felt at peace.
"Not alone"
"I'm not alone"
The men and carriages bringing her to their homes while unnaturally bloomed white flowers grow a trail behind them.