A/N: Not a very new idea, but I'm hoping I've put a little bit of a spin on things.
Cleaned up and reposted from elsewhere. Short chapters because I'm keeping with the original format instead of condensing snippets.
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Water, wind. The crashing of waves on the shore.
Is it a memory? Familiarity? Or is it just...the overwhelming sensation of it, that makes it seem to fill her head?
Wet sand. Shifting beneath her fingers.
Pain. She gasps, coughs, pulls herself upright despite the shaking in her arms, the burning across her back. Waves crash again, a warm tide rushing across her legs. White foam curling around her...hands.
Her hands.
Forward. Crawling, hands and...knees. Dragging through sand until...dry. Soft, and warm, and it's all she can do to turn, to collapse onto her back instead of face-first.
Stars. Shining, beautiful points of light in the endless cold of the sky. And the wounded moon, shards still trapped in its orbit-
The pain strikes again, sharp and constricting. Breath stolen, lights flashing behind her eyes...when it recedes and she comes back to herself, she can't feel her fingers. Hands cramped, clenched into claws in the sand. She frees them, jaw tight with the effort of uncurling them again…
Why does it hurt?
She doesn't know. She doesn't know where she is, either...where? How had she gotten here? And that question, that recognition of an empty space in her mind, draws her attention to others. More questions without answers. Including…
"Who am I?"
That's her voice? It hurts, like the rest of her. It scratches, painfully...sand? Salt? Her throat feels so dry, thirst burning-
Avaline.
It strikes her, and she latches onto it with everything she is. Whatever little that might be, in the moment. A name. Her name? It must be. It feels...it feels right. Her name. Avaline.
"I'm Avaline."
Yes, yes, that's good. Not everything is empty. Missing. There's still...a name. And maybe...a memory of a beach? Not this beach. She doesn't know this one.
The pain is still receding, bit by bit. Enough that she's willing to try moving again. To push herself up until she's sitting. Until she can see the horizon, not just the sky.
It's strange, and beautiful.
But still, unfamiliar. So she pushes herself. Stands, weakly, unsteadily. Casting around for anything, any sign of...something. How she'd arrived? Other people? The marks she'd left in the sand are already being washed away by the tide; how long had she laid there, insensate? What clues could be left behind? What chance was there…?
Little now. She spits out the grit in her mouth, swallows dryly, turning inland. The high stones piled there.
"Enough...lingering about." There's nothing for her, here. But maybe...maybe ahead?
With uneasy steps, she moves.
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She finds higher ground. And then, a path. Wide, and worn by narrow furrows, and hoofprints and...boots. She kneels beside the marks, for a moment. Traces the crescents, dipping her fingertips into the shapes to feel their depth.
Horses, she knows. Somehow. As she looks across the freshest of them, she can see the animal in her mind's eye. The prints and their spacing lend it form, the length of its stride lends it motion, and life…
She shakes the images away, and continues. Someone came this way, recently, and they were in no rush. Near to home, maybe. She can hope.
She can hope?
Walking grows easier, and more difficult in turns. Smoother, no doubt, as she regains her balance. As the last of the pain fades out of focus. But she's exhausted, and every step, every moment, adds to that weight.
The sight of lights ahead is a relief. But when the road first turns to stone pavement, a wariness creeps into her heart. It slows her approach, leaves her shivering. When, at long last, she reaches the edge of the township, she's reduced to a slow creep.
She circles wide around the mouth of every alley. Edges around every shadowed space. Every corner draws her up short again. For reasons she can't understand, she feels...vulnerable.
And then she hears something. She hears...music. And laughter, but the laughter is bright and wholesome, rather than...rather than? Another empty space. All she knows is that this laughter sets her at ease.
The door is open. And despite the noise, the numbers inside, she feels...safe.
It's a slow, shambling walk to the...bar. She shies from the eyes the drift her way, shivers as the warmth of the room seeps into her.
The man behind the bar looks hale. Healthy. His expression is creased with honest concern. "Hey, are you okay miss?"
Is she? She considers. Waking on the beach. The pain, the empty spaces in her memory that she's already realized must have taken the place of a life. She feels the ache, the weariness, and the alarming fear that the outside had brought.
"It's...been such a long night."
And that feels right, she thinks as the darkness finally closes in. She barely feels the impact as she drops to her knees, to the floor.
She's unconscious before the quiet uproar her collapse brings. And she remains unaware, as she is bundled off to a room, to be cared for.
To finally rest. If just for a little while.