Thoughts bloomed in my mind, suddenly crowding around in my head. I felt cool air on my skin, a surface unevenly shaking below me, a voice in my ear, the words distant.
I was thinking. Feeling. It felt as if it had been so long since the last time I had felt anything, and yet it seemed as if I had just yesterday. As if I had never felt, but always had.
The voice cut into my thoughts like a knife, becoming more urgent when I didn't respond.
"Ash...Ash! Ash!"
I slowly opened my eyes, and they filled with gentle light. A figure craned over me, a worried expression on his face.
I sat up. "Who...who are you?"
A look of alarm crossed his face, half obscured by the dark bangs falling lightly over one eye.
He laughed nervously a moment later. "What are you talking about, Ash? You're messing with me, right?"
"No, who are you? How do you know my name?" I responded.
The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I had said. My name. Ash. That was my name.
Memories flooded back to me, faint, soft memories passing me by like a spring wind. Memories of a golden-eyed friend, of a boy with white-blond hair, of a guild, a home, a ship flying through the sky...
Then they disappeared as quickly as they had come, leaving only faint outlines in their place.
I was snapped back to reality. The stranger looked at me questioningly, a mixture of emotions in his silvery-gray eyes.
"It's me, Wyvern. Did you hit your head? You just suddenly passed out, maybe you fell back."
I sorted through the memories, searching for his face, with it's pointed chin and large, slightly angled eyes. My search turned up nothing. Whoever this person was, I hadn't seen him before in these memories that were surely mine.
"I swear, I've never seen you before in my life."
He sat back, stunned, and I took the chance to look around.
I seemed to be in a wagon, with coarse cloth covering the sides and arching up to the top. Light filtered through it, painting the inside with a soft, yellowish color. There was a flap near the back that looked like an exit. The wagon was obviously in motion, and dull rolling sounds told me it was on a cobblestone road.
I looked down at myself. I was wearing a plain white tunic with worn leather armor over it, leggings, and leather boots. Several daggers were strapped to my belt, along with a coin pouch.
The boy, Wyvern, apparently, wore a dark blue cloak with silver fittings. A scythe that was clearly his leaned against one wall. Upon closer examination, his hair was a dark shade of bluish-black.
He turned and winked at me, then blushed furiously and looked away.
Weirdo, I thought.
