Heroes of Dreamland Rewritten, Book 1: Stars Amidst Lightning

Epilogue

Lost | 失われた

Do you ever find yourself wondering... if you're even real?...

A mass of images and noises floods all around me in a great conglomerate of sight and sound, full of darkness and light and every shade and hue of color all swirled together. The sounds rush by me, all mixed up into a low roar like a large waterfall. Even asleep like this, even floating within it in a state of low consciousness, I can feel it all washing around me at a breakneck speed. Even now, after all this time, I don't know if the sights and sounds are the ones moving, or if I am.

I don't know how long I've been here, or how long I've been asleep. I don't know how long this has all been happening to me. It feels like forever, like this is what my life has always been. Maybe it is my life. I wouldn't know otherwise. I don't even know who or what I am.

Suddenly, the sights and sounds finally begin to slow, and it begins to feel like they're streaming by me like a sleepy creek rather than raging past like a mighty river. And then they begin to become more vivid, more noticeable, and so much noisier, even as they slowly start to calm.

Surprised, I stir slightly. I'm beginning to wake up, aren't I? Some part of me wants to be afraid at this sudden change in my state of existence, but I still can't feel anything. I can't even quite bring myself to open my eyes, not yet. I'm still floating. I'm still mostly asleep.

The sounds and images that I can sense and hear and see imprints of even through my eyelids drag on slower and slower until finally, almost all of them stop. But in their place comes a new sort of sensation that overpowers everything else around me.

I'm falling, and fast. And yet, I still can't feel fear. I can't feel anything.

A moment later, I land with a rough bump on a soft pile that crackles as I land. Nearby, I can hear water bubbling along quietly and the sound of wind drifting lazily through trees. The light is dim through my eyelids, but probably brighter than it seems now. But now, I can also smell a crisp, clean smell that it takes me a long moment to place. Pine trees, maybe. But what's a pine tree, again?

Suddenly, just like my sense of smell returned, so does the sense of touch, and for a long moment, I feel like everything is just too overwhelming. I can feel the wind rushing gently over me and the filtered sun's warmth shining down on my face. Underneath me, the pile that I landed on has suddenly become rough and scratchy, hardly a comfortable place to be lying. My side feels dreadfully sore and bruised, not from the fall just now, but from some old injury. And my throat... it feels so dry...

After lying frozen for a moment as I become used to feeling again, I finally get re-accustomed to feeling all the sensations at once, and they begin to fade to a normal level once more. With a weak groan, I blink my eyes open and stare up at the green-filtered world around me.

Yup, there are pine trees, all right. They're everywhere around me; I'm in some kind of pine forest with a stream flowing through the middle of this somewhat-clear area. I'm probably lying on pine needles, too.

After letting my eyes get adjusted to the brightness, I cautiously try moving, attempting to remember what sort of a body I have. I haven't been able to move it in so long; I've very nearly forgotten. In response to my will, I feel two paws clench and unclench one after the other, and then two feet stir at the bottom of my form. That's right. I'm a... puffball. That's the physical form I inhabit.

With another weak groan, I carefully push myself into a sitting position and rub my eyes with my paws. I feel like I've been asleep forever. Part of me wishes I didn't have to wake up. I feel so tired and weak.

My dry throat hurts. The sound of the nearby stream only aggravates the pain. I need water.

Taking my paws away from my eyes, I look down at them. Red-orange. That seems familiar. And my feet are still yellow-orange. That seems right, too. Carefully, I put both paws on the tall, slender trunk of a pine tree beside me, and awkwardly scoot so that I face it. Then, cautiously, I stand up, using the tree as a support and frown over at the creek. It's only ten feet away, probably, but that feels like such a long distance at the moment.