You wake up.

You're lying on your stomach, face buried in the dirt. Every bone in your fragile human body seeps with pain; your legs feel like they're on fire and your right arm seems to be pointing the wrong way. You try to open your eyes, only to feel a sharp needle of pain in your right temple. You can feel blood dripping above your eye. Fear roars up inside your chest as you try to compute the excruciating sensations travelling around your small frame, and your eyes begin to burn with tears.

You let out a sob, and more pain slashes through your chest. Slowly, controlling your breathing, you get ready to push yourself up onto your good arm, uncertain if the feeling of bones moving under your skin is paranoid imagining or real.

You scream through your teeth as your left arm shakes under the pressure, your legs on fire, your right arm screaming every time you are not careful enough and knock it.

Finally you are free to move your head, and, ignoring your throbbing head, take in your surroundings.

You are in a massive dark cavern, lit only by glowing grey gems nestled in nooks and crannies around the walls. To your left, a bed of beautiful golden flowers blooms, standing proudly to attention: it looks like it could break a fall. You missed it by a few feet.

'Well isn't that wonderful.' You hiss, although not failing to notice the dark humour of the situation. You consider attempting to sit up. Twisting your head round and ignoring the pain that spikes down your spine, you observe your legs.

Eww.

They're bloody and contorted, pointing in entirely different directions, bruises blossoming along your thighs.

'Well that's disgusting.' You mutter. Breathing is becoming easier as you begin to adjust to the pain.

Or is that shock? You're going to die here, either way.

'God fucking damn it.'

You knew, when you slipped out of the orphanage back door and through the gap in the prison-like fence posts; you knew, when you fought your way through brambles and bushes and tree stumps- you knew. You knew when you climbed this mountain you would meet your death, and you'd welcomed it.

But you'd promised yourself a quick one at least.

'God fucking damn it.' You exclaim, wishing you could kick something, but no. You're stuck, lying on your front like a baby seal. Except less cute. An ugly, 15 year old seal. Possibly crippled. No one wants that shit.

'H…hello?' You jump as a timid voice echoes out of the darkness. Oh my god. People live down here? Bet the rent's a steal.

'Hi!' You call out, breath rattling slightly in your throat.

'Oh goodness!' A gasp is let out into the stale air of the cavern.

Jesus, who is this, Princess Peach?

You hear a light pattering of footsteps, like the sound of a dog running across a wooden floor, before the source of the voice enters the small spotlight of light emitted from the top of the mountain.

Oh, my, god.

The figure is small- you'd guess they were barely up to your shoulder- and covered in white, downy fur. It has long, soft ears, drooping to its chin, and wet brown puppy eyes. Its paws fidget together restlessly, barely peeking out from the long sleeves of a green and yellow fluffy jumper- hand-knitted, no less.

Well, I don't imagine there's many clothes shopping opportunities down here. Ladies and gents, say hello to the new Topshop branch! Just jump down this big-ass pit, break your legs, and you'll see it on your left!

'I'm Asriel. You fell, didn't you?' It says nervously, a pink blush dusting its cheeks. 'Oh goodness!' It repeats itself.

'Oh, my god. You are the most adorable thing I've ever seen.'

'You're hurt!'

'What? Oh, right, the legs. Yeah.'

'My mama heals. She can heal you right up. I'll just…' It takes a few steps, then turns back to you, conflicted.

'I'll be right back!' It says finally, then runs off.

Adorable.

You try to lower yourself gently back down to the ground as your arm is beginning to ache from your weight, but it gives out halfway through and you collapse with a deep groan as a fresh wave of agony washes over you. Your vision is starting to go fuzzy.

A large pair of white, fluffy feet appear in front of your face, and you vaguely hear a woman's worried voice. You think you're drifting in and out of consciousness.

'Asriel?' You mutter, confused.

A gentle hand touches your hair- you think of your mother. A tear trickles down your nose, and then the blackness swallows you.

You wake to warmth, the smell of baking, and distant happy voices. A thick, feather-down blanket envelops you, a soft mattress cushioning your body.

Where am I?

The memories shoot back all at once.

Your eyes snap open and you grip the cover tightly, wondering properly for the first time where you are. Suddenly you realize- there's no pain. A dull ache flows slowly through your legs, but otherwise nothing. You try moving your right arm, and it responds instantly, painless and fluid. You touch your fingers lightly to your skull and feel no blood, only a slight dampness to your hair.

It's been washed away, you realize. Someone's been taking care of you.

Cautious with your newly-healed limbs, you push yourself to a sitting position, letting the covers fall away. You're still covered in your filthy, blood-stained clothes. Good- being undressed and redressed while unconscious would be creepy. You wrinkle your nose as you touch the crusty rust-coloured stains, then shake your head. Icky.

Twisting round, you roll off the bed, ready to swing your legs round and catch yourself-

Thump. You land flat on your arse, the epitome of grace.

Alright, legs, or not. Whatever goes.

The door swings open, to reveal yet another goat-monster-thing- but this one comes bearing gifts. She has a gentle, sweet face, bearing a keen resemblance to Asriel- and her large paws clutch a tray laden with sandwiches, some sort of pie and sweet-smelling tea.

'Food!' You exclaim from the floor, raising your hands high in celebration, a wide smile on your face. You already like this lady. God damn, you are starving. You didn't eat before beginning your journey up Mount Ebott, which took you half a day to climb anyway- and god knows how long you've been asleep.

'Goodness, child!' The monster- because that's what they must be, right?- chuckles heartily. 'Are you alright, dear?'

'Quite.' You grin. 'My legs aren't working, though.'

'Oh, that is the magic, dear. It should take a few days, or even a few weeks- it varies. Your arm healed up just fine, but your legs…' She hesitated, face etched in deep pity.

'You must have been in such pain, little one.'

'I'm fine, me.' You say, giving her a thumbs up, slightly touched by her level of empathy. What a lil cutie.

'Well, anyway. Let us get you off the floor.' She puts the tray to one side, bends down and picks you up bridal-style like you're lighter than a feather, placing you gently on the bed.

'My son is desperate to talk with you again and show you all his toys, but I have insisted you must eat first.' She places the tray on your lap, and you feel rumbles vibrating through your belly.

'Very wise, Miss…?'

'Mrs Dreemurr. But you can call me Toriel- my husband Asgore is downstairs, but you can meet him soon- and you have met my son, Asriel.'

'Ah, I see the resemblance.'

She smiles at that. You take a great forkful of the pie, the taste of butterscotch and- what is that- cinnamon?- exploding on your tongue. This woman is a great cook.

'You must be ever so confused. I'll explain everything- but first; what is your name, child?'

You swallow your mouthful and offer her a wide grin.

'It's Chara.'

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Looky! My second ever fic! And it is HEEELLLA different to the last. Let's see how this goes.