A Shell of Fetus (Working title)

3- Where it belongs

A rain like no other, creeping its way through the mounting blizzard had abruptly died out without a clue.

Sun began spiking through the massive clouds to give a grace of warmth. The overwhelmed sheen fused a new life into the Frethar, and perhaps the entirety of Eastern Troika, but the folks weren't living with a hope of it lasting for long. People around the East tend to moan about training themselves for the onslaught of cold monsoon periods only to find the nature ousting them just like always.

She had tried to ask why one should even try if failure is foreseeable, but the man jumped to his feet and ran into the wilderness blubbering something about the drinks. There was no memory of his face or even of his voice, though she had felt his putrid breath gently passing through her nose when he had talked. She could not even remember her own words or tone, but the man had kept talking about...this place. Called Frethar? About the coolness of sky and the hotness of winds. There were many things he spoke, in an absurdist manner of shifty tongue. Too bad she was incapable of pulling out her head and tossing it back into the river. But she had to, along with rubbing and scratching of her face to get rid of the thick tacky layer of red out of her face.

She first dragged herself, then limped, and then began staggering with assistance of any branch or rock her hands could grab. The forest belt seemed thick, but did not lasted longer than a few strides in the end. The trees were pretty tall, however, with barks and birches resembling ashes of bone with pints of dried blood dripped all over it. The noises that came from the trees were sugary, stiff, as well as downright irritating. Animals, birds, greens and even scents that she had not grasped for a long time were filling her head with confusions and despair. Why didn't I felt this before? She shook her head in befuddlement. What was I used to feel before this, even?

The end of the forest led to a curved path aligning itself to a peak tinier in comparison to the ones that stood beside the vast river. She could not dare to climb those, finding the path in front to be far more endurable. The curved path was a lot slimmer and flat in comparison to the forest and riverside, where pebbles, pricks and even absorbed crawling creatures were hurdling her in one way or another. The path was not directed towards the forest, instead it went frontwards into more squiggly paths around the hills. She made her way towards the path, where her soles were nearly roasted by the blistering path. Perhaps I should get something to cover myself, a voice came from within as she slid her hands over her bare physique dampened with sweat, but with what?

She kept on walking, however, with a head warped with pain at the sight of everything, and a chest that was on the verge of throwing something out of her mouth at any instant. The place was no coolness that the man had affirmed. That drunkard. Perhaps it was her own thoughts that were killing her the most. Memories. They just came and went over her head over and over again, showing her things without shape, telling her stuff without a tone. She could try to force her thoughts to come out clearer, if only the piercing headache did not came to their rescue. Now, that leaves whatever it is stuck between my ribs.

She could only walk for a while before she bowed down to and on the ground, lungs becoming stiffer every time she gazed at the overextending path. Everything was not quite solved for her. If let go assurance, then nothing exactly was solved at all. She was feeling hungry, her eyes were growing tired. I can't walk.

'Whoa, you!'

She could not rise, but was indeed able to turn her head around. There were two men, dressed with more shinier and cleaner threads than her earlier encounter. But their eyes seemed to bulge out of their face, jaws dropped and lips smirked.