►Something to keep in mind for when you get to the last paragraph of this chapter: you'll come across a character speaking another language (other than English or Spanish). Because we only know a few words and phrases in Trollish, I've done the next best thing I could think of, which is to pull from some source material. Troll lore is Scandinavian in origin, so I've used a combination of Icelandic and Swedish to create the Trollish "language," if you will. Translations will be at the end of the chapter.◄
Consciousness came back to Jim slowly, his entire body trembling in pain. He wasn't in as much pain as when he had been hit with Morgana's magic, but the ensuing ache shivering through his muscles washed over him in lingering waves. He felt like his whole body was just one giant bruise. Jim felt himself lying flat on his back, his clothes damp against his skin, and he could hear the sound of rushing water somewhere off to his right. With a harsh jolt to his memory, he also heard the sound of soft whimpers and sniffles to his left. Forcing awareness back into himself, he felt a trembling warmth pressed against his left side. With far more effort than he would have liked, Jim pushed his limbs to move, his left arm wrapping around the child next to him.
Jim coughed, his breath coming back to him in agony. His lungs burned, and his chest ached. "Nyrys?"
"M-M-Master Jim!"
Jim grunted and grit his teeth as the whelp threw herself into his chest. He forced his eyes open and was stunned to find a light gray sky above him, the thick clouds disguising the morning sun. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he cradled Nyrys's sobbing form to his chest, frantically looking around for some kind of shelter. All Jim could scent in the air was himself and Nyrys and the rain that had flooded the valley they found themselves in. Thankfully, they seemed to have been washed up on a bank, rather than being stranded somewhere in the middle of the rushing waters.
"Wh-where is Mommy?" Nyrys sobbed into Jim's chest. He swallowed back the fear rising in his throat and hugged her tighter.
Stumbling to his feet, Jim rocked the child gently, trying to soothe her while he found his bearings. He had no idea where they were or where their pack was. They could have been washed miles away from the others. He couldn't see any hint of the cliff they had been swept over, the valley wide and flat in all directions. Following the pseudo-river back wasn't feasible; they would only end up back at the canyon — provided that the water hadn't branched off in several channels at some point, which Jim was sure was likely the case. The others had gone upward, out of the canyon, and were not only on much higher ground, but traveling in a direction that he had no way of guessing without a map or GPS. His phone and the Amulet were zipped up in one of the pockets in his cargos; while the Amulet was likely fine, there was no chance his phone had survived the drowning.
"Shh, shh..." Jim hushed the whelp gently as she cried and shivered in his arms. Pressing his forehead to hers, he softly nuzzled her nose with his own. "It's going to be okay. We're going to find a place to rest for the day, and when night comes, we'll meet up with the others, okay?"
"I'm scared..."
Jim smiled sadly, recalling the way those same words had left his own mouth just over a month ago, when he'd realized the extent of what he had sacrificed. "I'm scared too."
Nyrys sniffled, her tears slowing. "Y-you are?"
"Yeah," he said, letting out a shaky breath. "But it's okay to be scared. In fact, being scared is the first rule of Trollhunting!"
Nyrys gave a watery laugh, wiping her nose with the back of her arm. "But the Trollhunters are brave."
Jim shook his head, picking a direction leading away from the flowing water, and started to walk. "Being brave doesn't mean that you're not allowed to be scared; sometimes, we have to do the best we can, even though we might be terrified."
