I wake up, and I don't know how. Because I don't know which way 'up' is.
It's wheat. Straw. Hay. Whatever you want to call the beige, dead grass, it's all around me. Wheat and wheat and no sky. I struggle against it, but my hands are clawing into wheaten nothingness. It's a losing battle.
I try to uncoil myself from the ball I'm curled up in, try to think. I try to remember how I got here, but it's hazy. I decide I can think later. What matters now is out.
I slide awkwardly into a crouch in the small, suffocating space. I look down. That direction, beneath me, where gravity drags my bare feet, is down. That means the other way is up. Maybe all it takes is standing up…
I'm out. My legs ache. I must have been trapped beneath the dead grass for a while, because I'm stiff and cramped. I can't stand for long. Nothing seems too dangerous here, so I might as well sit-
Waitaminute. Where am I? It's a field. A field of wheat. Makes sense, I guess. I live in –
Where do I live?
A wave of fear runs through me. This is bad. Something instinctively tells me that I should be able to remember where I live. I've got to remember. Something wheat…
Where I live can wait. I need to get help.
But from where?
I don't know where I am. The wheat stretches as far as I can see. There aren't even any clouds to guide me – just endless blue sky, and a sweltering heat. It's silent here, too. I can only hear my own breathing.
I need to find someone.
I need to-
Everything has left. My memory just seems blank. If I look down at myself, even the thin white dress I'm wearing looks alien against my skin. I realise with a start that I can't even remember my own name.
I sit down. I don't even know if I can get up again. I'm hungry, and my throat is dry. I squint to make out the details of this world in the sunlight as I peer around. Something attracts my gaze, right on the edge of my vision. The wheat doesn't go on forever. There are trees somewhere, somewhere to my right, right at the edge of my vision. I stand up shakily, a hand over my eyes to see my only landmark. A strand of greasy hair falls over my eyes, and I learn that I have brown hair.
Tucking the strand back behind my ear, I put together a thought. A plan.
I need food. I need water. I need a doctor, or something to jog my memory at least. There is nothing in the wheat.
The distant forest is my only chance.
Something comes into my head, something that seems like irony now, although I have no clue why.
May the odds be ever in your favour.
Pushing that aside, I step forward. And I fall over.
The wheat is a soft enough landing, but this is bad. I could starve out here, and when I look down at my legs, which turn out to be short and tanned, they're interwoven with scratches and wounds. I need to get to the trees. Fast.
I blink and scramble to my feet. There has to be some logic here. I try to remember what happened before this, but there's nothing. I'm on my own.
I sit down again. I need a plan. I need to remember.
Nothing comes.
I lean back. Should I sleep? No, I need to get to the forest.
I force myself up.
I need the forest.
I take a step, and to my surprise, although pain rushes up my legs, I don't fall this time. I grit my teeth, and take another step, trying to ignore the obviousness of the fact that I'll get nowhere like this.
I walk a little. It hurts. It's slow.
I walk more, trying to pick up a pace, not looking back now. The forest surely can't be that far away, I decide, otherwise how would I have ended up in a pile of hay here in the first place?
Those thoughts are just running through my head when something crashes behind me, and on instinct I find the knife in my sleeve.
(Yus, started in the Games rather than before. Review, please? :) )
