/=|= The Lost Raven =|=\

01

"Rude Awakening"

She was cold …

The freezing water snapped her awake, ripping her out of the coma-like slumber. She looked around frantically, and instinctively tried moving; however, something restrained her. She was starving and dying of thirst. Instinctively, she licked at the water that had been splashed on her. As reality slithered around her, blurry figures came into view, remaining forever out of focus. Two silhouettes stood in front of her speaking some alien language of grunts and gibberish as if expecting her to answer. Then the hand of the closest figure suddenly flew, slapping her across the face, and unleashing a burning sensation into her numb cheek. She tried to recoil, but she was trapped.

Am I still dreaming? Is this a nightmare?

She opened her mouth to voice the slow clumsy thoughts, but another flight of the figure's hand derailed her train of thought, scattered her thoughts, and only a weak whimper escaped her lips.

"Chuh tup! Way cup, pan chuh tupwh, entch. 'Ey! Ewe lizst in ning tu mea?!"

What was that weird language? She tilt her head to the side, about the only movement she could manage, but the back of his hand blasted the cold flesh of her face yet again.

"Please…" she whimpered

Slap!

"I don't—"

Another slap.

She sighed, closed her eyes tight, and tried to shut it all out.

It's a dream. It has to be. I have to wake up.

"'ey!" She felt a hand grab a fistful of her bangs, and lifted her head as far as it would go. " Look apt mea win eye em tahl kin tu you!"

I have to wake up! I have to wake up!

"Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up," she chanted.

Another slap. Another. And another. Then laughter.

They're laughing at me!

"Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up."

Her eyes still closed, she felt a fleeting sensation in her neck, in her wrists like some pressure had been relieved. Then like that it was gone again. The numbness returned, robbing her body of all feeling except for the stinging in her cheeks and in the roots of her bangs.

I've had this dream before!

"I all ais seh edsh eew was wonmess sehd hupfr eek."

"Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up."

Eyes still closed, a new sensation. A new feeling. Hands slid under her arms, and the fabric of her top pulled taught against her torso. Someone? No. Two people? Yes, two people were roughly lifting her up by her arms and her top.

This dream always ends badly! I have to wake up before . . . before . . . ?

Too weak to move, too weak to resist, each of her limbs was a lifeless weight in her captor's arms. They were carrying her to the dream's end. To the nightmare . . . but . . . but what was at the end of the dream that so frightened her? Where were they taking her? She couldn't remember. Whatever it was, she knew it scared her. Terrified her. No. She couldn't dream it again. Not again. She had to wake up.

"Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up. Please—"

Something collided with her abdomen. Something blunt. Something powerful. So powerful her body wanted to curl up into a fetal position. It opened her eyes and sent all the air from her lungs. The blow jolted all of her senses, and she could feel her whole body again. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes. She was cold and every inch of her ached with a hundred cramps of being cooped up.

A face hovered in front of her's. Grinning. Laughing. Mocking. And this time when his mouth moved, she understood, "You are awake, bitch." Slap! Her head, now free of the bonds, snapped to the side. "An' if you ever show yer face 'round her' 'gain …" The back of his hand came back and smacked her head in the other direction. Slap! "…we'll break e'ry bone in yer body…" Slap! Slap! "… and stretch that pr'tty neck of yer's once and f'r all …" Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! "Understand?"

Another voice spoke up, its source she could not see. "That wench is sick in the head, she is! Look at 'er! Starin' at you like a dumb animal! She don't understands nothin'"

The face in front of her retreated from her line of sight, and issued one magical incantation, a mystical command, an order that brought about the end she so feared. "Get 'er out of 'ere."

She saw the edge of the town approach and the large puddle of water just off the side of the road . . .

"Please . . ." she begged.

And her heart sank as the men began swinging her and counting, "one …" back and forth, "two" she was powerless to do anything. "Three" and they flung her out of the town, out of their lives, off of the road, into the forest, and into the ice cold puddle.

She landed face first with a large splash, too drained to brace for the impact. Had the rains of the past week not softened the ground so to cushion her fall, she surely would have broken her neck. The laughter continued. With the tiny sliver of her strength, she managed to, with much effort, barely push herself out of the water, but even that minor accomplishment would be stripped from her. She felt their feet press against her back between her shoulder blades and against the back of her head, then she felt their weight as they stepped on her, pushed her below the water level, and then proceeded to grind her thin form into the soft mud.

And the laughter continued. Through the murky waters she could hear it. Feel it. The mockery reverberated through the boots pinning her to this wet shallow grave. The laughter pushed her deeper and deeper into the earth. It crushed her. Buried her. She couldn't hold her breath anymore and tasted moist dirt in her mouth.

Please . . . let me die.

And just like that, their weight was gone. The end had come. The laughter left her.

With the last of her strength, she rolled onto her back and filled her lungs with air. Looking in the direction of the town, she saw a few men herding the other townsfolk back into the gate. Children peeked around mothers, from behind carts, trees, and woodpiles to catch a glimpse of her. One tall dark and handsome fellow stood at the gates, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he loaded his pipe to smoke. Deeper in the town, she could see the stocks where a new prisoner was dragged over to the pillory, where they'd spend the longest most miserable pair of days in their life.

Her vision blurred as her eyes watered. Too weak to keep them open anymore, she let her eyelids fall. Tears streaked down the soft skin of her face. The aches slowly left her body, and the numbness returned. Nothing left but the cold.

Please let me die.

Tira passed out.

Writer's Note:

For this story, I imagine Tira looking like my version of her from SCIV's editor. Link to My Tira pictures located in my profile. (I would link here, but won't let me for some reason.)