Fog filled her head, pounding and pulsing, shifting color and form. Black to deep, royal purple, to a faded navy blue, to a head splitting evergreen, and finally, finally brilliant golden light edged in white shone through that heavenly oblivion. With it, came the terrible agony that was beating at her skull, her tongue dry as the sandy earth beneath her body, and nerves as rough and strewn as the gravelly rocks she lay upon. Opening her eyes, the young woman sat up, instantly woozy and off balance. "Ooh..." Her hands flew to her face, gripping her skull in pain, the torment seeming to go on forever.
When at last it faded, she released her head, only to see the rusty specks of dried blood across her hands. Oh no.. What happened? She stood up, seeing leather and cloth bits spattered across the softer earth beside her, the ground swallowing up dried blood and turned just faintly red from it. There was no sign of anyone else, or anything else, and for that she was grateful, yet worried. How did I get here? Why am I here? Those lonely, confused emerald eyes jumped up, taking in the stretching expanse of vibrant, healthy green before her. The Sea of Grass? Why was she by Cyphrus, when she lived in Sylira?
I live in Sylira... With who? Her mind did not have the answer. Who did I come here with, or for? What is the blood from? Why was I on the ground? All of these mental questions came up blank, like a slate wiped clean, and caused naught but frustration and a severe headache. The female gripped her skull in agonized anger, standing up straighter as she wandered around the area looking for clues. Giant paw prints were sunk into the soft muddy earth, suggesting an attack. No surprise, as she was by the famed grasslands, which were riddled with dangerous life. Who am I? She tentatively asked herself, hoping that this at least would ring a bell. Faylinn. The response was instant and triumphant, followed by a pause. Did she have a last name? It only made sense that she would, but for the life of her, she could not remember it.
Growling to herself, Faylinn finally found a bag. It struck some note within her, so she assumed it belonged to her, and rifling through it she found the basics: a comb, a small knife, some food, and various other handy items. She found that she wore a faded brown traveling dress, lightweight boots, and a thick gray furred cloak about her shoulders. Wolf, she thought, though she couldn't remember for sure. And on the ring finger of her right hand, a simple silver ring with knots engraved on it. They seemed significant, but she couldn't remember why. Ohh this was frustrating! |
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