I stumble, tripping over the many roots in my path

I stumble, tripping over the many roots in my path. My cloak tangles around me as a cry escapes my lips. “Momma!”

Then I’m falling, falling to the ground. Hot tears pour down my face, my body curls inward. The soft earth is so inviting, my head is pulsing with thoughts and tears are streaming down my face as I cry myself to sleep.

I awake in a strange forest, disoriented. My throat is dry, my lips cracked. Instinctively, I tug my cloak tighter as I struggle to my feet. Twigs and leaves are intertwined in my hair as I pull my hood down, over my face. I want to scream with frustration: I’m so far from my home and all that I know, my face is streaked with dirt, my sandals ripped to shreds. I take a deep, shuddering breath, get my bearings, and set out, fallen twigs cracking beneath my near-bare feet.

Hours later I reach a stream, my body takes over as my mind hovers nearby, and I eagerly swallow mouthful after mouthful of the clear, crisp liquid. When I have drunk my fill, I notice the face that is mirrored back at me. I want to turn away in fear, but in the same way, I am transfixed. The girl who stares at me from the water cannot be me, for we are so different. This girl in the water has a terrifying, hungry look to her, her cheeks and face hollow, as if she has not eaten in days – I know this is not right, for I only started running yesterday, wasn’t it? Her eyes are grey and sorrowful, her hair, though a deep, dark brown like mine, is tangled as though it has not been brushed in days, weeks even. When I finally notice, I give a little cry.

Where the girl’s hair meets her forehead, she has dried smears of blood; her hair is matted with the stuff. It looks as though she has been hit with the hilt of a sword, or maybe hit by the jagged edge of a rock. The tears start again, pouring from my eyes as I reach my hand to my forehead. Indeed, my hand meets a bloody gash.

My head spins, my eyes blur as I fall backwards. What happened here? I don’t remember what happened. My vision is swimming, the green of the trees blurring with the grey of the sky and I black out, my hand clutched to my forehead, blood from the now cracked scab coating my fingers.

When I awaken again, the forest is quickly darkening as night closes in around me. I would cry, but I am out of tears as I lay defeated on the ground. It all comes back in flashes, what happened to me...

I am on a horse, riding fast from those who follow me. I know not who I am running from, just that I must get away, and quickly. Suddenly, a root seems to spring unbidden from the earth. Before I have time to cry out, I tumble to the ground. A splitting pain overtakes me, and I just have the presence of mind to crawl under a fallen tree branch before the thundering of the hooves of my pursuers’ horses passes me and I succumb to unconsciousness.

I'm still huddled by the river when I hear it, the familiar crackling of a fire. I shiver, suddenly aware of the cold air around me. I want to stand, but my feet are curled under me, and I can't seem to get them to uncurl. I am about to call out when I remember my unidentified pursuers and hold back. I'm shaking with fear and uncertainty, and I listen wistfully to the crackle of the fire, shaking gently as I wrap myself in my cloak, staring across the quietly flowing river as night falls around me.

The fire quiets sometime late into the night, the stars are softly burning above. My eyes feel heavy – I want to sleep, but know that I cannot for fear of discovery. Leaning back against a boulder, I try to remember more, but nothing is coming back. Before I know it, my eyes are closing…

The snap of a twig wakes me this time. I guess I’m getting used to living in the wild. My breath catches in my throat when I hear it again – the distinct snapping of twigs, like someone creeping through the underbrush. I unwind my cloak from around me, slowly pulling on the worn leather boots I had previously removed. My heart is slamming my ribcage as I pull the hood over my curls and shakily pull myself to my feet. I wish I could move fluidly like the many animals I’ve watched pass me these few days, but my steps are clumsy, my movements blocky. I try to step lightly, to not give away my presence, but my boots are heavier than I think. Twigs snap, and I hear footsteps draw nearer. Before I know it, I’m falling, falling into my memories.

A small girl stands across from me, giggling. Her blonde hair swings as she tosses something wrapped in a handkerchief from hand to hair. Her grey eyes sparkle as she laughs. “Catch Loni!”

That name! I know that name… Is it mine? Yes! I twirl, my red dress billowing outward. The little package drops to the ground and the girl’s lips turn downward unhappily. “You should have caught it Loni…you should have caught it.”

A name springs unbidden to my lips. “Rina!” But it’s too late – my world is spiraling into a dark abyss. The name on my tongue is a sweet sanctuary as all fades to black. Illonia. A beautiful name. My name, and I whisper it as my tears fall freely and I slip unnoticed into a nightmare

When I wake this time, it’s in a cold sweat. That girl Rina, the little package in the handkerchief, my name. It all comes back to me in a flash. What was that? A nightmare from a different time? Or a memory? I huddle in on myself, hoping it’s the former.

But then I realize…there’s a fire. I’m by a fire. I’m on a bedroll. Most importantly, my hands are bound with twine. My breath comes in small spurts as I try to pull myself to my knees. My head spins from the effort and the earth races up to meet me. A splintering pain spreads across my face – the first part of me to hit the ground. My breath escapes me, just as someone swoops down and grabs me by the collar, giving me a rough shake. “Looks like the little captive here finally woke up.”

Their names are Asriel and Sriram. I know because I listened to them as they sat laughing by the fire, me huddled up against a cold, hard boulder. A splitting pain fills my right leg – these brutes have decided to keep me here by “accidentally” knocking me over and causing me to gash open the bottom part of my leg. The wound has scabbed over, dried blood gathering around the yellowing slash. I know I should try and think of a way to escape, but I cannot think with the pain searing through me as it is.