The Loyal Alone

Chapter Three

As humans, we tend to turn to medicine when we are in need of healing. However, the power of sleep cannot be undermined. This is, perhaps, why I found myself at the bank of a river, sopping wet in heavy drenched clothes; but none the worse as far as sleep is concerned. I could sleep on this rocky bank as easily as I could sleep in my cot, or on a fluffy mattress. Sleep, as I have said before is blissful, and there are always moments where you do not dare to wake up. Then, there are those moments where reality breaks through that impenetrable wall and pulls you back into reality with a dizzying force. Which is why I am now awake.

I hear rocks being quickly kicked out of place by rushed steps, pebbles fall down past my face and I wake up. To note first, my vision is blurry, like I am looking through a window covered in rain. My head is throbbing, but not as much as my side from where I hit a rock during my travels downstream. Downstream?

All that pain was accompanied by the aching lungs which were somewhere between burning and freezing in a way that I cannot describe.

I sat up coughing, but it brought me more pain to my ribs which I clenched as I fell over on to my side. The dreamy fog that swathed my brain was so appealing. Wishing simply to go back to sleep so my body could heal, knowing full well that once I was asleep I wouldn't be in pain anymore. Like falling asleep after a bad day and waking up refreshed. Well, that only worked if you weren't rudely awakened by someone trying to come save your life.

"Down here! Down here!" And another rush of pebbles, and then someone was by my side.

From where I was with my face pushed into the rocks; laying on my side and doubling over in an attempt not to breathe; all I could see were the knees of red jeans and a well-manicured female hand, that was being used to steady herself against the river rocks. The other manicured hand was on my shoulder, and I felt her small nudges; I greeted them with a groan.

"She's alive!" another voice said, loudly.

The manicured hand gently pushed me on to my back, taking care to ensure that my head did not hit the rocks.

"Stay still," said the first voice, the girl with the red jeans and fancy nails. "What hurts?"

"Everything," I tried to say quietly, noting my inability to breathe normally. Maybe it was the shivers. I was just cold. The words didn't sound right, it was probably in my head.

"Are you okay?" asked Nails.

"Peachy," I stuttered

Two other women came up beside her, one on the other side of me, and the three of them stood there breathing heavily from their run down the mountain. I envied their painless breathing. There was a forth up on the mountain behind us. I didn't see her, but I could hear her.

"Go get help!" Yells Nails.

I turn my head upwards in time to see an older woman wave in acknowledgment and leave quickly. My vision feels black, it feels heavy and black, like a foreboding sense traveling down my spine. I shiver uncontrollably.

"We should help her up." I hear a second voice.

"She needs to stay put," says Nails.

The youngest girl is checkered in squares, and it takes me a moment to realize she is wearing flannel. She just stares and I stare back, her flannel squares warbling into circular red and black shapes, my vision slowly becoming more tunnel like.

"She might have broken something," Nails says. "We could hurt her by moving her."

"What happened?" A small shy voice asked, it was Flannel Shirt, and she teetered on the balls of her feet trying to balance and not fall. "Are you alright?"