After World Chronicles: Angel Awakens

Angel: Heal

HEAL

True wakefulness happens some time later, how much later I'm still uncertain about. For a long while I lie still and just breath, listening to the quiet, steady rhythm of my heartbeat a fire crackling. Jolting awareness floods through me at the memory of my last conscious thought. It occurs to me how amazing it is that I am still alive. My eyes fly open and I struggle to sit up. My hands are weak and shaky as I grasp my injured leg to inspect the level of damage. For several moments I sit dazed looking at it, perfectly healthy and smooth as if it had never been seriously injured. My chest no longer feels constricted and my breathing comes easy. There are a few faded bruises and scrapes covering my body, but in general my skin appears almost luminescent. I run my hands over it in a gentle glide, wondering if I'd dreamed the wreck.

My grumbling stomach is what brings me back into the moment and I begin to scan my surroundings, hoping to see my mother nodding at me. I imagine her making some joke about lost time and we will discuss our new plans.

Instead my gaze falls on a dark haired stranger crouched a few feet away from me, carefully stoking and banking a small fire. There is some type of small skinned animal on a spit over the flames, it's juices dripping down to sizzle. Several small holes in the ceiling above the fire help vent the smoke upwards and out of the cramped, earthen shelter. I realize this is the source of the fire sounds I awoke to. Across the space, golden eyes watch me with a careful expression. It is the young man who helped us escape from the soldiers back in the ruined city. I glance around quickly, searching for my mother, my anxiety growing as I realize she isn't here. My gaze returns to the young man who continues to watch me although to my relief he keeps his distance for now.

"Ah, the princess is finally awake," he observes with a voice so smooth a shiver involuntarily runs through me. Its low timbre is like velvet to my ears.

We stare at each other for a moment, assessing. Juices from the joint of meat he is cooking fall into the flames, causing the fire spark and pop. His attention returns to the roasting meat as he transfers the food from the fire to a plate. I stare at him in the flickering light with fascination while his gaze is diverted. His masculine beauty is compelling, all hard angles and planes, so smoothly perfect he might've been carved from marble. Beside the flames he is dark like a shadow, yet his skin has a faint luminescence that reflects the firelight. I feel drawn to him, consumed with a strange desire go to him, reach out and touch him, to confirm with my hands what my eyes reveal. I want to verify he is not just a figment of my imagination. My fingers twitch and I clench my hands into fists as I fight the sensation.

Reluctantly I draw my attention away from him to look more carefully at my surroundings. We are in some type of underground, earthen shelter. Through small cracks high up in the wall I can see the sun's bright glowing orb high in the sky. Leaves filter the power of it's brilliance, easing the assault of heat and light. Inside the shelter is dim and the packed earthen floor aids in keeping the room a modest temperature. The shelter is very small, with a low, slanted ceiling. There are no furnishings. The walls are formed of tightly packed soil, interspersed with stone and crumbled cement. There are enough cracks in the ceiling to ensure venting for the small fire, but not so many as to allow onslaught of the sun's powerful rays.

I find myself on a battered straw mattress with a rough gray blanket around the lower half of my body. It was probably drawn over me while I was unconscious but tumbled down as I sat up. I realize the only clothes that cover me are my underwear. I'm dirty, but without any dried blood or grime caked on my skin. At some point after the accident I was given a succinct wash. Feeling exposed I clutch the blanket and hold it up to my chin like a shield. My boots sit side by side near what looks to be the exit. Beside them I spot my knapsack, torn and dirty but miraculously present. There is some relief to see something belonging to me is close by.