The Fickle Winds of Autumn

Kira woke with a startled jolt and gasped down a lungful of air.

A thick, dark dream of endless falling still pressed in on her, clouding her thoughts and groggy body; a nervous anxiety of perpetual drifting tried to suffocate her, but the unyielding solidity of a cold hard floor dug into her ribs and assured her she was no longer tumbling into a black void.

Perhaps she had died and this was some sort of painful afterlife?

She roused her stuporous body and rolled over to her back to relieve the pressure on her side.

She forced her bleary eyes open; they blurred and swirled; a dim, uncomfortable cave came into focus; the grey, barren rock was bleak and austere - but at least it was dry and warm and out of the horror of the savage, biting wind.

Her ears strained against the hushed stillness; a faint, dull rustle echoed distantly; perhaps it was the angry rushing weather attacking the mountain outside?

She groaned and reached a lethargic arm to rub her slow, heavy head; her drowsy body seemed to have been sleeping motionless for days.

Dark, sluggish fragments of memory drifted back uncertainly.

Ellis!

Aldwyn!

Gone!

The loneliness of the cruel mountain.

Falling!

A sudden pulse of panic rushed through her thoughts.

But the stone ground of the cave held her firm; she was not plummeting to her death; the freezing air was not rushing past her terrified mind.

Her clumsy fingers rubbed her head and neck again.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Evidently she was warm and breathing and still alive somehow.

Her shoulders throbbed with a stiff, aching pain.

Perhaps she had been lying awkwardly on them?

She stretched to touch them; they were gashed and wounded somehow; the tunic near them was torn and matted with dried blood.

She must try to wake up properly; she must work out where she was and what had happened.

She flexed and extended her reluctant limbs; her eyes adjusted and accustomed themselves to the vague light.

Two lumpy shadows lay dark on the floor not far from her, near the wall of the cave.

She forced herself up onto wobbling knees and crawled towards them; she squinted through the gloom; the black, shapeless silhouettes strained into focus - two bodies lay slumped on the floor.

Her mind raced and churned.

A hopeful pulse of adrenaline rushed through her; she must find out, she must know.

Her knees scraped and stabbed on the rough surface as she moved closer.

Yes!

She recognised those boots and clothes.

It was Ellis!

His sagging body lay twisted and face down.

Her heart convulsed with relief and happiness; she gasped down a grateful breath; her thoughts wanted to jump up and run and dance, but her faltering limbs would not permit such a celebration.

But had he survived like her?

Was he still alive?

She reached to rouse him, but noticed a strange bloodied gash, torn into the shoulder of his tunic. The skin beneath was badly cut with a deep wound. Her own shoulders stung and prickled in sympathy.

A worrying unease gnawed at her.

She rolled him over onto his back.

His unresponsive body flopped worryingly, lifelessly.

His eyes were closed, his skin pallid and ghostly.

More cuts shredded the shoulders at the front of his tunic.

There was no sign of breathing.

She shook him, but he did not wake.

She leant in closer and pressed an anxious her ear to his chest - but she could hear nothing other than the worried murmurings of her own heart.

Her nervous thoughts sank and reeled.

Perhaps he had not survived?

Perhaps he was dead and had been left there to taunt her cruelly?

She held her breath and listened closer still; her fraught mind washed with fractured torments.

“Breathe!” she willed him. “Please, just breathe!”

She strained every fibre of her being into his silent ribs; his body was still warm; perhaps there was hope?

A slow, shallow murmur reminisced through his chest, weak and uneven.

Kira gasped down her own grateful breath - he was alive - but only just.

She tried to rouse him again, but his limp, colourless body seemed to be lost - trapped somewhere beyond her touch, his eyes locked shut in a deep, unnatural slumber.

She looked over at the other shadow; the lifeless outline of Aldwyn lay flat on his back.

She crawled over and shook him - but he too was oblivious to the world; scarcely breathing; unreachable; barely clinging to the edge of life.

His thin breath was so shallow that he wasn’t even snoring like he usually did when he slept - so clearly something serious must be affecting him.

His gentle snoring had annoyed and perplexed her on the first few nights of their journey, but she had soon become accustomed to it - and even began to appreciate it - its lilting rise and fall had soothed her with its rumbling rhythm; it told her that she was not alone in the vast open wilderness and the un-seeing dark of the night; sometimes she even matched her own breathing to his slumbering lullaby, and this harmony had helped her find the release of sleep.

But in his current stupefied state, Aldwyn could no longer provide her with such slender comforts.

His clothes were also ripped and blood-stained across his shoulders; she shook him again, but realised it would be a hopeless task to try and rouse him.

She would just have to wait, and hope that he and Ellis were both unharmed and would wake in time, like her - although Patience had never been one of her virtues - as the nuns had always been so very keen to point out.

She should explore the cave.

Her throat was rough and dry.

Perhaps there was water nearby?

Or someone who could help her companions?

Or a clue as to how they had all arrived there?

She crawled towards the furthest dark wall.

The stony surface bit painfully into her knees and palms; she wanted to stand but could not trust her weakened legs; she pressed on stubbornly, following the dingy outlines of the cave; she must do what she could to help her friends.

The rounded, bulbous cave didn’t seem to be that big, but the open neck-end had been barred and blocked by a lattice of heavy wooden beams.

Her curious fingers ran along the smooth worked timber; she grabbed the frame and pushed and pulled, but the hefty wooden grille would not budge.

Her anxious thoughts stalked and brooded.

They seemed to be held captive in some sort of cage or prison.

She peered out into the gloom beyond the heavy lattice; her cell seemed to be one section of a much larger cavern; there was no obvious guard on duty, no-one to ask for help.

A feeble glow of light and a cool draught drifted in from the far corner of the dark cavernous hall.

Perhaps this was an opening or exit of some sort?

Her drowsy mind puzzled and deliberated.

What it could all mean?

How did she get there?

How could she get out and help her companions?

Were they safe, or being held prisoner for some malicious purpose?

A distant rhythmic scraping echoed somewhere off around the corner, where the light and the breeze were coming from - a sharp abrasive noise with a regular pulse; tap-scratch, tap-scratch.

Perhaps it was the brittle hail outside?

Or the steady pattering drip of water bouncing off the cave floor?

She strained her ears against the whispering hush.

The sound grew steadily louder, its beating cadence moved closer; tap-scratch, tap-scratch.

Kira’s anxious skin prickled; her thoughts tumbled and scattered - someone - or something - was coming towards her.