Just Your Average Time Traveller

About as forgiving as a meat cleaver.

To say the least, I was a mess. 

I hobbled along the main road of the Village, earning myself strange, hostile, and occasionally amused stares as I supported the fainting Cassia on my shoulder. Her arm hung loosely around my neck, and mine gripped her midsection tight, trying to make sure she didn't fall over. And by now, Cassia's armfuls of fish had been dropped behind us, potentially feeding the Village kids. Yay charity.

And yet, even as I limped aimlessly across the Village like a headless empousa with a train to catch, a part of me couldn't help relishing in the irony. Cassia, the brave one, the tough one was coincidentally the one to be knocked out. Not Sam Derry, oh no, his job was to half carry her to safety. Although I'd rather not faint in any situation, I had the feeling I'd be much more comfortable if the tables hadn't been turned like this.

It was then, when I was reaching the market square, that someone finally spotted me.

"Sam!"

I looked around briefly but saw nobody I knew. My panic increased as I prepared to press forward.

"Sam! It's Cassandra, you idiot!"

My head whipped around once more. This time, I saw her. The old woman was ploughing against the tide of bodies heading for the Trevi fountain. It seemed unnatural, almost laughable to see this squat, frail lady dressed like a hippie with long, grey, unkempt hair among tall Romans with noses that people from the 26th century would die for.

In my immense relief, I raised my face to the clear, blue sky and yelled "THANK YOU!" winning myself yet more worried and genuinely terrified looks from bypassers. I almost ran over to Cassandra, who frowned at me with such distaste I wondered whether I'd mistakenly killed her cat recently.

Cassia moaned on my shoulder, one cold hand lying limp across my collar bones, sending goose bumps to my skin, the other held to her head which lay at an odd angle right by my neck. Her almond eyes were closed, trying to open in a squint at times. The blue-grey bruise was fast becoming a hefty lump. I looked to Cassandra for aid, trying not to think too much about the way our breaths mingled, and the way Cassia's hair felt. She simply glared back.

"What do you expect me to do? Carry her over my shoulder? Eínai androprepí̱s."

She turned away and I looked at her as she did so, both confused and annoyed. What was that supposed to mean? Cassandra walked a few steps toward a building to the South. She faced me again.

"Well? Come on! And take that poor girl with you," she said, a sad look crossing her now azure eyes as she looked briefly at us like we were a particularly depressing picture. It unnerved me. She set off at a brisk pace.

We sliced through the crowds and entered an empty two storey wooden shack, with a bell fastened to the thin, squeaky-hinged door. I flinched as it tinkled sharply, sending a piercing pain through my head. Cassandra walked in like she knew the place well. Inside, it was dark and damp. The walls were made of a rotting pine. The floor was the same but slightly raised from the ground. A dirty white rug sat in the middle of the room, with a staircase pressed up against the back wall. On the left was a large block of wood that had a chair drawn up to it, a single ominous screw perching on the edge of it. I frowned as I steadied Cassia. I heard footsteps on the staircase; Cassandra was climbing up them, leaning heavily on a cane that had previously stood against the worn, carpeted stairs. Hastily, I followed, hit by the smell of incense. 

As I traipsed slowly up the stairs, my legs straining with the effort of supporting Cassia, who was currently drooling on my shirt, I looked to the wall on my right. Great big gouge marks had ripped into the wood. What had happened in here? Who, or what, had made these enormous scratches in the wall? I shuddered. What if-