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Chapter 2: An Astronomical Outcome
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Note: When I reposted Chapter 1 on March 19th (Make A Break For It) it somehow didn't update from January 12th. Now that I post this chapter, hopefully it will change the status to the correct date. And so sorry for the long wait! I will for sure do better next time! My one-post-per-month goal is backtracked but I'll let you know why I was so behind... I'll continue after the chapter.
For this chapter I'm trying something new to me, so, if you're inclined to, leave a review on any suggestions.
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Dew-covered mint grass accented with stretched for miles, one of many galactic suns timidly shines through the thickets of lofty blue bell trees; the trees canopied the enclosure comfortingly. The delicate miniscule formed buds galloped gently in the persistent lullably-like wind. The brilliant colors of evervescent ice blue atmosphere, vivacious green and flecks of royal and lavendar purples created a landscape of vivid wonder. The grass was the thicker than a sequioa tree, and softer than the finest of silkworm product. The refreshing breeze continually tossled the leaves ever so elegantly as if the atmosphere tended to the living with great care. Zoom out a couple thousand feet aerially and the forest trickles away, melting into lilac meadows characterized with occasional groups of dandelions for a splash of sunshine yellow; almost as if a few drops cascaded off of the planet's sun onto the meadows for spontaniety.
Animals, a bull or possibly a moose, close by or far off-I can't differentiate- emit odd huffing and stomping noises. I cough a bit, although the air I breathe is crisp as an apple.
Ah, yes it was a haven of pure solitude. Nobody around for miles, just a secret wonderland in the middle of nowhere. I could bask in this breathtaking beauty for days on end and never grow bored. I lay back into the cool, marshy blanket closing my eyes as a butterfly would close its wings. I readjust into the enveloping spindles of grass, eyes flower open again to take in the artisticly framed electric blue sky.
There's a plethora of words that could be assigned to this dreamland, but all would fail to live up to its eminence. Although one word comes to mind:
Picturesque...That'll have to do. I feel like laughing and crying at the same time-out of relief maybe. I breathe in the pristine image, hoping it won't escape me-everything eventually does, unfortunately, no matter my efforts to cling on.
What's funny though is I can't remember how I ended up here. What intergalactic route did I stumble upon that I haven't before? I've traveled the farthest reaches of known space, I thought, and only discovered one place such as this? I don't remember landing my Striker anywhere... I attempt to lean forward, but all I feel is pain. What happened to the blissful serenity?
An odd aroma takes charge over me- a combination awfully akin to raw fish, rusty metal, burned gas, and rot. Overall, just pure stench. It could be a nasty bunch of Carrion flowers, as I'm in a flower field, but I'm surrounded by lilacs... Where is it it coming from?! I jolt up and flip my head left to right as a dog would use its incredible ability to follow a trail based on one scent.
It amounts to the point where I can't bear the smell anymore, an unknown pungence overpowers me. I cough and sputter. Tingling sensations of warmth lick at my feet, traveling up the length of my body. It seems welcoming at first, like the Sun encompassing me in a toasty cocoon. I cough violently, the Sun feels like it's frying me dry. I squeeze my eyes shut to distract the unfolding charring I'm victim to. To my left in the enclosure someone suffers from breathing difficulties. The odd thing is soundwaves seem to be traveling to me underwater. But I'm sitting in a dreamy enclosure, a foot deep in caressing grass. My eyes fly open like a revolving door and I crane my head to puke up my guts -regretfully now, as it backsplashed from a metal floor onto my sunburnt legs, furthering the char of my flesh. Where is that agonizing breathing coming from? It's really getting on my nerves. I try in vain to move my arms, but they're immensely pressurized from a chunk of gray granite, it seems, crushing them. I weeze out a groan pitifully, as asphyxia blocks my body's instinctual pain releiving tactics. Oh, those incredibly irritating noises are me...
I have no idea where I am, but I know that dreamland is long gone. A dream. A make-believe figment of my imagination that could muster such sensory overload.
Fascinating.
The power of the brain is mindblowing.
My head lurches forward again to spit up trace amounts of pea green puke and cherry juice blood- in both consistency and appearance.
The immediate area is blurry and out of focus, like I'm missing glasses, or something in kin to that. Fluttering my eyes sporadically, I'm determined to regain awareness of my surroundings. Ringing like a missile flying overhead hits home in between my ears, the aftermath resulting in reverberating- like a gong hit with a sledge hammer. My form droops over like a top-heavy plant succumbing to its own downfall.
'No! I snap out of it. I'm NOT going down without unsheating my sword'.
Scrunching my face from abhorrent afflictions, I push with all of the might I can muster, from the momentum of my upper half, to free myself from this block of meteorite-that's how it feels anyway.
My strength fails me too quick. I take multiple interval breaks to catch my non-existent breath, then I thrust up again, all the veins in my head bulging. If I had an out-of-body experience right now, I know my struggling form would replicate a meathead body builder.
Heh, at least I'm getting a routine workout from this.
My abs burn incredibly from a lack of oxygenated bloodflow, from my agonizing huffing and limited breaks, but the block begins to budge. I layer my resistance with force I don't feel I possess anymore to overpower gravity.
Gravity seems to be winning this match.
My strength and willpower are waning tremendously at this point. My lungs automatically deflate as I relent in my once-awed cockpit chair, now a shredded Space Pirate toy. How come I didn't fly forward on impact? My specially engineered seat belt couldn't of had that much stability. I crane my neck to see how the seat belt held up until now, but the chunk of rock impedes my view. Oh yeah, I'm secured in by a boulder.
I force a weezy gasp, an impaired war cry, against this obstinate blob crushing my limbs. I will not give in. Soldiering on, I feel my breathing revert to its normal state. I tilt my eyes down as far as they can go to assess my progress... and I finally gained leverage.
Just... a bit... further! ...
The chunk of Striker console is flown from me at full force with a muffled shriek, landing a couple feet to my left. I'd collapse if I already wasn't on the floor. Like a deep-sea diver resurfacing, my lungs play catch up with all of the oxygen they were deprived of. I heave deep irregular intakes of smogy air, intensely relieved; I thought I'd never feel free again. That I'd be stuck here, agonizing for hours-physically that is. My emotional status is highly questionable.
I lay there for awhile, too taxed to move. That, and I'm allowing my body to take its course in bringing feeling to my limbs because they might as well be nonexistent how irreversable the damage feels. Crimson and chartreuse liquid drip from my limp mouth, down my right arm and swirl on the ground beside me around creating a honey brown. I gaze up into what I believe is the sky- most likely the ceiling of the Striker- motionless, feeling like the life is draining out of me. Pitiful sputters squeak out. I attempt to alleviate the pain, but every move is knives to my flesh and bones. It seems I cannot achieve anything. Defeated, sleep or unconsciousness, maybe a mixture of the two, easily overcome my vulnerability.
-/
Bleak gray skies flip to vibrant blue. Distant chirping of birds and the incandescene of the Sun radiates a soft, comforting glow. If only I could shine so much, be as brilliantly glowing as the monstrous star providing both light and joy to its onlookers. Various wildlife rustle in the billows of purple and thickets of grass. A few bunnies chase each other in playful bouts.
Out of nowhere, both bunnies make a path pointedly towards me, nested in the lush grass with my head angled right at the furry creatures. Human-like yells boom forth from their tiny windpipes as they lunge, thud next to my side, and each take a bite. I pressed my hands to the ground and tried to shove my body out of the way in time, but they just caught my side and are hanging on for dear life. I huff and strain a gasp in searing pain. I hit them off with both hands successfully but not without them snatching a part of last time I had chunks of flesh removed was when I operated on a gaping hole in my leg. The flesh became infected, so I had to cut out a golfball worth out, toss it, then sew it back up. The horrid memories flood back tripling my pain, as I now feel the bunny attacks, the phantom feeling of that bounty hunter sinking its claws into my leg, and my skewed self-operated procedure. No-good Ghor.
The spindly cyborg...
I wonder what he looked like before his original armor was destroyed. He's basically a mechanical stick bug with breast and quadricep (based on human anatomy) plates. The swishing gray glimmer of his three-pronged claws then the digging into my flesh, by means of flexing it into a fist motion, replayed in an endless loop.
He used to be a charitable being; that is, until my doppelganger fastened her clutches on him...
Speaking of clutches, a few bunnies are about to feel the force of mine. I crane my neck diagonally to the right, my chin squished on my neck in an awkward fashion, to angle full view of the four sets of two teeth gnawing on my right flank. How could these creatures appear so amiable, yet unleash such horror on someone? Without much thought or willpower, my right arm moves to the furry fiends in effort to apprehend them, but any such movement unexpectedly exhausts my energy. My arm and mind are, subsequently, rendered limp.
The pain persists with no one to mend it... I feel on my own right now. Who knows if someone's watching, anticipating the moment to strike with strategy against the inflictors of my pain. Or they're watching me and laughing at my pitiful downfall.
At least I've learned something for future reference: No matter how someone appears, their word means nothing until trusting them is feasible. Anyone can mount a facade through their appearance and speech forms, but displaying the truth is their conflict at the core. Who, in their right mind, would fall for a trap if it were blatantly exposed? No, crafty deception is all around. One must be wise to discern who's for and against them...
I press my eyelids together with unexpected force, resulting in a white flash and static black to cover my vision.
Depressing aluminum, yet again, plasters the minimal expanse of my visual perception. A sense of dreariness and nausea set in again as my eyes continually flutter to combat cycles of unconsciousness from blistering pain. Despite all of my willpower being zeroed-in on regaining alert eyes, blurry and warped vision remains as my eyelids rest half way over my irises.
Familiar yells sound nearby. I reflexively gasp. 'I'm going to get those bunnies' I start angrily in my head... but my vigor fades with each second as I barely utter a whisper audibly: 'those... bunnies'...
I gasp, with a silent and quick intake of air, and my eyes jump open. What a minute... could that be...
I forgot about the leverage! I sit up, fighting the nausea, and stumble to the sound of a human voice. The bunnies' human-like yelling must have been my imagination coating a cry for help. I painstakingly sit up and work up to a jog, passing the dislodged console of the gunship and other littered materials from it, turn around and head off towards the Striker's dislodged backend where the marines should be. Although they're not here... or is that?...
Two forms that look quite human-shaped are strewn by obliterated wood scraps, presumably the closet I stowed them.
I limp to them, my adrenaline's wearing off quickly. I plop down on my knees. I scream. I can be so careless sometimes, especially when I'm in pain. Which I thought I'd be used to by now. I shake it off and attempt to assess their physical conditions- the woman first as she was closest to me when I arrived. I inspect her mangled, dirty body. Bruises, cuts, and gouges litter her body, but no sign of fractured or broken bones. I best not move or feel for that though, I could harm her inadvertently. Checking her heartbeat, holding her right arm with my left hand and my right hand's index and middle finger on her radial artery, on the forearm, I count how many times her heart beats for around fifteen seconds...
5..
6..
7..
8..
9..
About nine beats for fifteen seconds, so 36 beats per minute-that's dangerously low. I have no time to lose. I hover my left ear over her mouth to assess her breathing-shallow, brisque intake/output of air as her chest barely rises and deflates. I hurrily shuffle on my hands and knees to the other marine that landed about a foot away from her. I repeat the process and his condition is similar. I attempt to awake him and gauge his hearing and eye-sight by waving my hands in his face and mildly shouting:
"Hey, can you hear me?!" A moment of silence then his head tilts towards me with a groan as he moves a shaking quarter thumbs-up a few inches of the ground, then promptly lowers it with another groan.
I switch and try the woman marine again but she doesn't respond. I shake her shoulders ever so slightly and shout if she can hear me. Her head rolls to the side. I check her heartbeat using the radial artery again, but I can't feel it anymore. Her breathing is nonexistent, too. I check her heartbeat using the carotid artery this time, under her jawline on my right side, just to be safe. There's no pulse there either, so I start CPR.
Following a few minutes of the monotonous steps of the procedure, she gasps and her eyes fly open. I sigh with relief. Coughing a couple times, she lays her head back down and groans faintly.
"How you both feeling?" I ask as I check her pulse, then his.
They mutely respond by staring. Who can blame them though.
Staring back at them for a beat, I cut the awkwardness, "I have to go now, search out resources, shelter, whatever I can find. I'll be back as soon as possible. But before I go, let me find something to camoflague the both of you..." I scan the area again but nothing seems to suffice. Desolate in our immediate vicinity. The Striker must have something viable.
My legs are limp from kneeling for too long but I muster a slow jog back to the Striker. The destruction done to it could be worse. The cockpit window is nonexistent, the two adjacent guns on either side of the former vehicle are characterized with huge cave-ins with black smoke marks every now and then. It somehow crashlanded, slightly on the tip of its nose, and the cockpit chair, which I haggled out of not too long ago (most probable is twenty minutes) was torn through the floor and strewn on the ground. The boulder of a console is flipped upside down a few feet diagonal from the chair where I left it. It seems the best option is to climb through the gaping hole where my console chair was. I walk a few steps towards the haphazard entrance and ponder how I'll hoist myself up there without slicing my hands against the jagged edges. There's for sure broken glass up there to account for, too.
I decide to take my chances. Time isn't on my side. A few punches to the floor above me rains a crystal shower of glass, hopefully dispersing it enough for me to get in there with as least injuries as possible. I rip handfuls of grass out of the ground, the best protection I can muster right now, and hop a couple inches up and grab hold of the least jagged areas. My hands sting but not much for me to handle, the objective at hand keeping me focused. I pull my body up, hands digging in more. I grimace and wince more than I expected to. My torso is all the way through... or so I thought. A dagger-like piece of broken aluminum floor grates across my charred suit exposing some flesh. I'm extra cautious to apply more weight on my hands and upper arms than my torso using leverage from the broken floor it was sliding by. I swing my right leg first and then my left foot right behind it and I propel myself off the floor with a push off of the now-solid floor and roll onto my backside. With the wind knocked out of me, I breathe very audibly through my dry throat. I swallow and allow myself to calm down my vitals as I stare at my ceiling I used to find comfort in. I remember staring at it for hours while strategizing or forcing myself to sleep. It had a soft gray shine to it with various blue, green, and orange lights. Now it's dented and scratched every which way. I don't want to look at the rest of the ship I built myself because jus tthe thought of rebuilding from scratch makes me want to scream for hours. All the hard work... it's all to waste now. If I knew how to cry I would would right now. I can't remember the last time I cried. I have to get out of my thoughts now and back to work. Time's gaining on me. Again. I sit up rather easily but my surroundings want me to lay back down and just forget where I am and what's happened. Too tired to scream about it.
The whole inside was ransacked, strewn about pictures, linens, and metal scraps so shredded it's impossible to know what is originally was and where it came from. It's like someone took my ship and shook it thoroughly and threw couple of grenades in it for good measure. All I'm able to do is sigh at all my work gone to waste, but its useless pining about it now. I stand and shuffle through the rubble for scraps useable for camoflague, but I can't seem to find anything. It's dark in here even with a huge hole funneling the remaining hours of daylight in. I look for the biggest scraps of what I can find and toss them down on the grass. I throw more than I need since my sight is limited and I don't want to waste the time and pain it took to manuever into the pitiful entrance to my once-top-notch ship. I hastily grab everything I can in my arms after I slide carefully out of there and head back to the leverage... more like liabilities now.
On one knee, I whisper to them, as I should've before in case there's unwanted company. I mentally smack myself again for unprofessionalism; my head's still in a blur. "I've found some scraps to cover you both with. It should camoflague you both well," I explain in hushed tones as I lay the pieces of metal and what seems to be charred leather over them. "I'm going out again to scout out the area for survival needs. In the mean time, pay attention to your surroundings, the best you can, without moving. If anything seems off, whatever you do, don't make a sound. Keep your heart rate down, too. I'll be back shortly," I instruct.
I step up with leverage of my left leg and start off in any direction so as to not give away the makeshift spot for the marines if anyone was watching- and time's not on my side today, as it seems from gauging the planet's sun with a hand shading my eyes, nighttime is due in and hour or so. I pick up my pace and decide to head towards a dense forest.
I procede to my objective with a slow jog, taking my own advice and respecting my wounds. I look down briefly to assess them and they're worse than I expected: The marine armor suit is completely charred, bits and pieces floating away in the breeze like ember from a bonfire, the process quickening as I continue jogging. Sticky blood, ranging from tyrian purple to crimson, oozes out of the cracks of the ebony armor. I wave it off. From my experiences, I've sustained worse in higher stake situations, and I healed just fine.
A nagging thought persists among my confidence:'What if this time is different?' I know better than most that banking on the same scenario to unfold every mission is a fool's job. Certainly not the mindset of an experienced bounty hunter.
Nevertheless, I gotta keep moving forward... keep moving forward. My motto for the better half, or 3/4, of my life.
It's funny though, how the body works, as the pain's completely subsided from earlier when I was being crushed to death- that's adrenaline and its awesome capability to cancel out pain. Although, as I've said before, pain helps further my determination and grit. I could take out a whole squadran of Space Pirates how invigorated I am to smoke my enemies.
In order to exact that, though, I need to prepare accordingly for tracking down and defeating the perpetrators of this whole debacle I'm in with two delinquants. My memory fails me as of now, as I only remember snippets of the fall. The resolution of those are fuzzy and momentary at best in kin to a digital screen glitching in and out. Not helpful at all. Later something might resurface.
Which brings me to the cause of all this: Who or what was the perpator and what are their motives? Well that doesn't narrow down the list at all- I have more enemies than anyone I've encountered. And there's the possibilty it was an accident-really though?
Yeah, this was no accident. If I had to put a name right now, I would say Ridley himself and/or his minions staking me out for an easy takedown. Sorry 'bout you Pirates, I'm essentially indestructable at this point- the amount of times I've crash-landed in unknown territory measures to the likelihood of me being obstinant. I'm practically crashland certified if that's real.
I can't be certain until further evidence is presented that it is the Pirates, but I'm settled with focusing on their trail-considering my past with them.
I subtlely scan my surroundings. A tree here or there, flowers, wildlife... same ol', same ol'.
A swift rustle among the trees alerts my attention. I maintain an undisturbed persona, going about my adventurous jog in concentration, but peripherally I captured the dash.
I must be invading their camp, who or whatever 'they' are, to produce such a reaction. I decide to turn around and search elsewhere, in no mood for a fight: I have people counting on me for help before nightfall. That minor mishap doesn't veer me from my analyzation of the encounter, though. The image of the unknown creature is roughly captured in my mind: The build of it was over seven feet with bulky features-almost seemed like armor. The armor glinted, under the sun, a titanium luster from lurking in the shadows of overgrown trees.
Odd.
I don't remember hearing a sound either, just a flash of the creature then it was gone. With my mutant advancements, my eyesight and hearing can't be bested... at least to my knowledge. How in the universe did they divert my senses? It must be an inhuman hybrid.
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I happen upon a slow and steady stream slicing through a section of woods. Of course I don't have any materials with me to harvest the water. I heave a deep sigh, planting my hands on my hips. I might as well wash up when the opportunity presents itself-who knows the next time I will be able to. It's secluded here, too, sort of like the enclosure I dreamt of. With no potential harm in sight, I assess the cleanliness of the water: Clear as can be. I kneel down, plant my hands down, and ease my face into the water. I figure I should put a hurry on the interlude though, in case of any surprise visits. Hovering my head a few inches above the water, I capture an unsightly image of tendrils of blood caress the water as it slowly fades with the flow of water. Something else sticks to the surface of the water, an unpleasant film of what appears to be sweat and soot: the sweat shimmered and warped with the miniature deposits of light brown and black flecks of soot. I swipe my hand down the length of my face and dunk and shake my hands brisquely. I then step into the river, facing it head on, and lay as flat as I'm able to. My cuts sting but feel refreshed at the same time. I sigh in relief, but dare not look too closely at the aftermath- I'm not queazy at the sight of blood or muck, even if I feel some hunger pains and lightheadedness, but I also know it's pointless to remain here for much longer: It's time to resume my scout of the land. I push off the pebbly mud with both hands and roll from the balls to the heels of my feet.
Judging from the sun, it's around the late afternoon, I figure with a hand shielding my eyes. Upstream is my best bet in understanding the lay of the land, so I turn left up the incline hoping my travels will be worth it... and that those two are faring well... I guess.
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"Happy Birthday Samus, happy birthday to you!"
My mother sang cheerily to me as I bounced in my high chair. My cheesy grin was missing a few baby teeth.
I grimace from that memory; too pained to continue it... doesn't end well. Terrible first memory. Just the beginning of my terrible life. I sigh, bitter and resentful at what my life has become. All I can do is keep moving forward though right?That's all there is to do in life anyway. One day at a time, one boot print at a time, one breath at a time. Look at me getting all caught up in my emotions, pitying myself. And I'm giving myself a pep talk... again. My face contorts with annoyance as I pound in the soppy mud. Emotions are useless; all they do is make you a target. They numb your mind to what's important in a seemingly innocent way, then they getcha. If you're not careful they'll ruin your life. Oh, I'm very emotional- I can recall many times I would start wrestling matches with random cadets for glancing in my direction. And I wonder why I'm solo. Whatever, I like it better this way. Too bad this time I have not one, but two freeloaders to take care of. THEE last time I stow anyone in my closet. Next time I'll just throw them out the ship. I blasted out of there without any reinforcements sent after me, I didn't need any 'leverage'. It was good I was cautious and cleaned up any trails, I'm always sure of that, but this time it backfired. Here's hoping it was for a good reason.
I continue my trek along the river. Beautiful scenery. Too bad I can't enjoy it. It's best I forget about it's beauty, at least for now, lest I get more distracted; I have enough distractions battling my own thoughts. The crunching of my charred boots leave even bigger flecks of soot behind me, but it's quickly carried off with cool wisps of wind. Must be God's way of protecting me from any snakes stalking my tracks.
I should be high enough now. I turn around to assess my progress. Trees are blocking my view. And you know what else- the Sun's setting. I turn my head back, my pony tail bouncing off of my face, (I'm surprised my pony tail, of all things, stayed intact this long. Not my armor, my ship, my sanity, but yes my hairdo.) and start back up again. The incline of the hill is driving me mad-it only gets steeper and steeper. Like a broken tread mill stuck on the highest incline setting. I decide to run to the peak, this is taking longer than anticipated. I've been trudging slower than I should've. A full out sprint should fix that.
A loud snap and reverberating pain shoots up my leg. I nearly land on my face, my hands halted my face from smashing into the mud.
My nose brushes the mud.
it takes everything out of me not to scream how much my right leg hurts. Shaking and whimpering, I try to concentrate on where it's coming from. It feels like my ankle... I turn my head around slowly to the right, dreading that it's broken or some other atrocity...
A bear trap.
Great.
Is it time to scream yet?
I think so.
I pound my face into the dirt and empty my lungs with a drawn out shriek. A few tears trickle, without my permission. The mud doesn't need more stickiness, thanks. Wasn't thirsty either. What I'd give to just lay here. Can I just lay here? I'm sick of the endless assaults on my life. Ugh, I have to get up though. If and when I go down, it's definitely NOT going to be to an inanimate metal contraption.
I need to rest a while first, then I'll get up. I turn my face towards the ravine and stare into the hypnotic flow of the crystal water. The Sun's set but the water still shines radiantly. Like a twinkling star or a city's brilliant lights... It feels good to just lay and not feel like you have to go go go you now?. I have to stop talking to myself in the second person. But really, no obligation, no pressure... and my leg is strangely not killing me. I feel ok now. Adrenaline must be kicking in. If anyone outside myself heard my thoughts they'd think I'm insane. Oh well let them think that, it's just the mould of my life on my mind. It's reality, not much I can do.
I sit up and dunk my right ankle into the water before my mind can register any pain. I stretch my arms and fold my upper half down to reach my leg and pry off the metal teeth attached to my leg. The crystal blue water turns a crimson and for a split second, a royal purple.
Bear traps are pain. They're made to close in so I have maintain a steady, firm grip on it before I pull it apart. Thanks to my enanced genetics I can do this with my hands alone. Probably not a good idea to keep it in water, too slippery. I needed to clean the wound as soon as possible. Hopefully it didn't make matters worse. I shake it a bit and roll it in the mud, gritting my teeth. I feel muscles tearing at each movement.
More tears stream out.
No more waiting.
I grab hold of each side with brute force with a crazy look in my eye and I pull with all my might. Carefully, I pull my leg towards my face as I keep it pried open. My knee is in the crook of my neck, my foot safely away from the sharp bite, I close it very slowly. I don't know where to dispose of it, so I rinse it off in the river. I'll keep it- it could be useful later on. If not, whatever.
I inspect my ankle and it's not as terrible as I imagined- again, thanks to my enhanced genetics. Can't walk on it for a few days at least. What am I going to do now that I have one working leg? I ineptly stand up on one leg and hop to a lush tree and grab the largest and intact leaves. I look around for some flowers. I grab a clump of dandelions and call it a day. I plop back down ungracefully by the river and rinse off the leaves and flowers from any dirt or pollutant. The dandelions are only effective when boiled or eaten after they've been exposed to the sun and soaked in spring water. They must have had Sun here to grow. The dense greenery seems to block all the Sun, but I remember strong rays shone through to the ground. They're my best bet anyway. I rinse them once more for good measure and bite the flower whole. The dandelion flower is known for blood purification, helping to prevent any infections from developing. If only I could find chammomile or calendula; those flowers are known for treating wounds. I'll keep an eye out for those.
I take the pile of thick, healthy leaves I scavenged and plaster them to my ankle. I spit in my hand a couple times, crush a few of the leaves and mix it together to make an adhesive. I apply the makeshift adhesive and use the rest of the leaves as bandages, pressing firmly for a couple of minutes.
I rinse my hands thoroughly and clean my face and drink as much as I need.
I grab the metal clunker and scan the area for anything suspicious... and a suitable crutch. Before I move to hop on my good leg, my ears just a noise close-by. Too close-by.
It's as faint as a heartbeat.
Once again, my face hits the mud.
-/
Notes:
All of the information regarding Samus checking pulses on the wrist and neck is actually where and how to check for a heartbeat- from a few searches. For 15 seconds, you're supposed to count the number of times you feel a pulse. After you get that number, you should multiply it by 4 to get heartbeats per minute. There's also systolic over diastolic, but that's for determining blood pressure and it's more complicated. With that said, I'm not an expert so feel free to verify with your own research.
Same goes for the healing properties of the flowers Samus used.
For reference of what I wanted the meadow and woods, and the carrion flowers to look like (closest images I could find) see below:
Lilac meadow: .
Woods: www. /wp-content/uploads/2017/02/bluebell_wood-coton_
Carrion flowers: .
Also to reference how I envision Samus for this story (and most likely all stories I write) look up "One Girl in All the World" by transfuse. It's an amazing digital artwork, so if you have time definitely check that out.
I was so behind on this story because I went blank on the story plot line. I didn't have one to begin with, I'm freestyling it, but the plot lost its luster to me if you will. I'm back at it now though and I plan on 10 chapters for this story. I should have another chapter by the end of next month. I'm working on meeting that goal.
Finally, I realized I can reply to reviews in the reviews section of a story. I will be doing that instead of replying at the end of each chapter.
Thank you for reading!
~ U can glow too