Lost in the bottom of an abyss, Shoko sat and stared upward. Shadows had long ago fallen over everything, leaving no difference between colors or textures. All of this place was just grey and shapeless, just dead materials.
Shoko looked around and tried to breathe. The air was becoming thick with each passing moment. She felt the strain building inside her neck and chest. That was growing raw and pained, and then it was dry. The air had become thin and hot, so hot as to suffocate. She could feel it clawing down into her chest and digging through there.
The abyss was gone, and the shadows were gone. The air was gone and so was the pain. Everything was gone, slipping and disappearing, leaving only Shoko to stand in her nothingness. She could not move as the fading occurred. All that body was able to do was breathe and observe.
It was all going away, all disappearing. The walls faded first, for the nothing had become a small room, and were followed momentarily by furniture and windows. The ceiling went away, and the colors. Shoko was standing on a black mat in a world of nightmarish white. A grey bulb hung from the ceiling, shimmering greyly.
With a sharp snap, those both faded.
And, with a noise like torture, Shoko's head burst and she was sitting bolt upright in the plains. A quick, terrified glance found James nearby with some kids sitting around him. She could hear Sam's voice, but was unable to see her face.
Shoko's stomach grumbled as she sat there, mulling over the nightmare. They had starting coming again, finally after so long away. She had nearly been able to forget the horrible, damaging dreamscapes. They always left her sweating and icy on the inside.
"You're awake," Jessie said.
Shoko's gaze squirmed around, searching.
"Where are they?"
"Hunting," Jessie said.
Shoko looked around at the featureless plains. There were animals, somewhere. And in a place near that somewhere, Tommy and Peepers were stalking some sort of prey.
Her stomach growled again and felt especially empty. It was a long time before the sweaty, icy feeling could manage to slip away and become a constant but unnoticed disturbance. It remained awful and forefront.
Shoko stood up from her messed blankets and looked around. The plains were all empty, as usual. She moved slowly in cleaning up the blankets, though there was no reason to. It was all just wasting time. Everyone who did not hunt spent that time milling about, restlessly awaiting the hunter's return.
There was nothing else to be done. Nothing else important in this life. All they had was the fire and the food and blankets at night. They all talked to each other but the same recycled conversations quickly grew tired. It was all turning inescapably grey.
Shoko walked over to the dying remains of the past night's fire. The ashen pile held a few twinkling specks, but those would be dead soon enough. They would need to start a new fire that night, and the night after. They would have to gather wood. They would have to hunt food, and prepare the bedding that they took up each morning.
Each day was just the same activities stretched and repeated.
Shoko looked out at the horizon and saw two specks. Those would be the returning hunters. Maybe they caught something, but maybe not. If not, they would wait an hour and go back out. If they caught nothing then, another hour before another attempt. All day.
Shoko sat down by the dead fire and stared up at the cloudless sky.