The Rainbloom Witch: Within The Forest Walls

Prologue

My vision is fuzzy, and there's a high-pitched ringing in my ears that deprives my hearing of all other sounds around me. I feel the cold, damp ground seeping into the knees of my pants from crouching over the muddy forest floor. My wavy black hair brushes in front of my eyes and shoulders, matted and frizzy from the fall. My stomach is hollow, a bottomless pit filled with every fear and anxiety I could imagine. All these emotions are storming in my head, a hurricane of fear, loss, sadness, and anger. I hear my friends' muffled and echoing shouts somewhere in the distance. Everything sounds drowned out, like I'm in a glass box at the bottom of the ocean. My whole body feels hot and damp, as if it should be steaming from contact with the winter wind blowing against my back.

My senses clear just enough to feel the sting of my injuries. I bite the sleeve of my shirt, tear off a small piece of cloth, and wrap it around the gash on my forearm. I close my eyes and pull the makeshift bandage tight around the wound, wincing from the burning. My hands are still bloody and stained from the fight. I slowly push myself up off the ground, my hands shaky and my balance unstable. I drag myself over to a nearby tree and use it to try and help prop myself up. I heave my weight until my feet are flat on the ground, and my legs give their best effort at standing that they can bear. My eyesight grows blurry again, the dense woods around me swirl and rock like ocean waves, and my head grows light. I push onward, stumbling from tree to tree until my hold gives out, and I land flat on the ground with a thud.

The corners of my eyes are swelling up with tears, not from the weakness of my body or the splitting pain I felt through every part of me, but from the overwhelming panic. I try to cry out, but my throat chokes and scratches at my vocal cords, and I'm left alone again on the forest floor, wondering if my friends are okay, wondering what kind of hero I am to be cowering helplessly in the dirt afraid out of my mind, and worst of all, alone. I wonder how I got here and if I'll ever get out. I'm supposed to be the fearless hero, or that's what they all told me. I always had my doubts about all of this; what could a then 16-year-old girl do against all the evils of this world? Everyone patted me on the back for every grain of sand I picked up, knowing there was an entire desert I'd have to face. I lay here staring at the dusk clouds floating above me, knowing somewhere out there, the people I needed the most right now were looking up at them as well.

Out of anyone who could have gone through this, anyone who could have been given this role, I almost selfishly wish it wasn't me. I could be home right now in my warm house eating popcorn, curled up with my mom, watching movies, or doing puzzles. I wish my mom could be here now, holding me close and kissing my head, telling me it would be okay. But right now, I don't know if it will be okay. All I can do is hope that I can push through. Because when you convince yourself you're a hero, the last thing you want to think about is the chance you might lose.