Left Behind

2/Seeking

I go flying through, out of the corridor, out of the reach of that monster. I fall hard, my shoulder slamming down onto a soft yet fittingly solid bed of grass.

Huh. The grass is wet. I open my eyes, and see tiny raindrops adorning each single blade, almost like tiny Christmas lights. It's pretty- pretty enough to make me smile.

I stay there a while. Just lying still, my legs and arms and joints and throat all drained of the energy to do anything more than simply exist.

Eventually, I turn my head over to the door, unsure exactly of what will even be there. It's still ajar, daylight now freely spilling into the tight metal corridor. The cloud of ash and ember isn't anywhere to be seen; neither is that thing. Instead, there's just a small pile of what looks like black dust or powder, irregularly sparkling in the sun.

I slowly heave myself back to my feet, and toddle on over towards it. It's not too big: about the size of a decent molehill. Smells like burnt hair, which is always lovely. But there's something about it- something that almost beckons me to come closer.

Carefully, I reach down towards it, feeling the air around it ripple with an odd yet deeply familiar sensation. My fingers dip past it, through the sparkling surface- it feels like sand. The good kind, too. I rummage around, feeling for something, though what exactly I have no idea. And then- bump. Found something!

My hand clasps around it- it feels hard, like halfway between stone and steel- and I pull my prize from the pile, brushing away the remaining dust as it emerges.

"No way..." I can't help but whisper out loud, as I hold in my hand a shard of pureblack obsidian the size of my forearm. It's smooth, yet deadly sharp at the edges, and rounded soft at the middle, a thin white vein running down its spine from point-to-point.

I trail my finger over the length of it, tracing its perfect texture, and sure enough, there it is. I spot a faintly glowing ripple under the surface of the shard's centre, ebbing and flickering like a liquid beneath the pureblack glass. Heh. The old man was right after all.

"Good," I mutter to myself, nodding. At least it's still functional, even after the metamorphosis. That'll come in handy for sure.

Speaking of which, I look around once again, stepping forward back onto the dew-dropped grass. And as soon as I start to inspect my surroundings, I begin to actually wonder where the fuck in the world I actually I am.

Obviously, that corridor did its job, and spat me out someplace random in bloody Nowhere. But where in Nowhere?

From the looks of it, this place seems to be some kind of a woods or forest. Or a grove. Or... thicket? I don't know, it's got trees, that's the point. I can hear birdsong in the distance, so I know I'm at least not stuck in the Middle of Nowhere. But then again, that doesn't exactly narrow it down.

"Hello?!" I cup both of my hands around my mouth, shouting out into the leaves and branches. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

No reply. Figures.

Then, suddenly, an idea comes to me. I quickly reach behind my back, feeling for where its claws had got me, drawn all that blood. My fingers graze over the place where it managed to cut the skin, and yet, there's no bleeding there anymore. I feel again, and sure enough, only a couple of light bumps remain where gaping wounds once were. My eyes widen in realisation. Because, that can only mean one thing.

"Caze! Come out! It's me, Rell!"

Nothing.

"I know you're there, don't bother hiding! You gave yourself away with the wound, just come out already!"

Nothing.

"Is Tyra there with you? Nahaya? Lorn? Pik?"

Nothing. This is getting annoying.

"Come on, I don't want to deal with this. I've already had an afternoon from Hell. Just come on out already!"

Still fucking nothing.

"Come on, don't you remember me? Rell? We were stationed at Luna together, with all the daysingers! Remember?"

I decide to wait, not daring to move a muscle - simply listening to the sound of distant critters and the gentle hum of the sunlight. And then I hear it.

A scuffing of loose dirt, a sudden yipping, the sound of tiny hurried hands and hooves scurrying into the undergrowth.

A small smirk grows on my face. "Oh yeah, you remember."

I clutch the shard in my right hand- at least I think it's my right - and plant my converse flats square on the moist grass.

I breathe in the soft and friendly air, and exhale as the wind wraps itself around my body.

"I'm coming, guys. I'm coming."