"Fighting to Hold On"
When Liz awoke, it was to the whispered sounds of the hallways. Her eyes were crusted shut, making it difficult to crack them open. Slow, ragged breaths echoed through the empty area. Her heart picked up. She couldn't see anything. The inky blackness felt as though it were swallowing her. Arms, sluggish, the young woman couldn't even see her own hands in front of her face.
The throbbing in her side had not ceased in the least. She was afraid to move. If she did, would she bleed out? The only reason she was probably even alive was because of the clotting. Liz blinked, and blinked again. Still nothing.
Had she gone blind?
Someone let out a breath from beside her, causing her to jump. She turned. Nothing.
"H-Hello?" She called weakly, followed by the echoes of her voice in the lonely maze she was stuck in. She tried to listen for Cole's breathing. Perhaps he was knocked out or asleep? In which case, she needed to get out of here. He wouldn't be happy once he … once he... She shifted, hearing light creaking and a soft surface beneath her give.
Why was she on a bed?
Hadn't she passed out on the ground? Liz dug around in her memories. The last thing she remembered was Cole's body going slack above hers from the jolt she'd given him. Then the dagger had dug deep into her flesh. She felt the wound, just below her left breast. Confirming that she was still injured. Liz hissed.
Yep, still injured.
'Don't have to... not... not.' A voice whispered, echoing through the room. Liz felt her body freeze up as she recognized the tone. It was as though her blood ran cold, 'Not … alone.'
"Go away!" She called, not caring if she attracted attention. She tried to ignore it, tried to will it away. But it only seemed to close in further.
'Let...' It breathed, coming closer. 'Let me...'
The sound of slow footsteps echoed, causing her to go on high alert. She couldn't move. She was helpless. She couldn't do anything. She was going to die. Oh god. Oh god.
'Let me … help...' It hissed in her ear, causing her heartbeat to pick up. It threatened to gallop right out of her chest.
The footsteps only seemed to get louder, as they made the water in the hallway splash. She was in a room, she realized. The hallway just outside of the door at her left.
'I can make it all go away. You won't die. Just let me help you.' It's voice was getting clearer, almost quicker. Frantic. 'The templars, those people. They condemn you—'
"L-L...Leave me..." She rasped.
'LET ME IN.' It demanded, voice reverberating in her skull, claws sank into her tender flesh. Her wound. She could feel it digging into her. Liz screamed, forgetting about the footsteps in the hallway. She didn't even notice how they sped up, approaching in a haste.
"Get off of me! Get away! G-Get out!"
"S-Stop! Erin!" Cole's voice cut through her fear addled mind, "You're hurting yourself! Erin!"
Liz stopped flailing, her chest heaving painfully as her vision focused in. Blue light revealed the room faintly. She turned to see Cole's fearful expression. He looked as though he had no idea what to do. The voice was gone.
"W-W-...What..." Her fingers twitched and she winced at the jolt of pain in her side. Her fingers were digging into her wound. What? When had she done that?
Perhaps it was when... when she tried to get that thing off. When she tried to keep the claws out of her.
That's when she realized Cole was standing above her. The man that had tried to kill her. This prompted another fear-filled haze as she tried to wriggle away.
"You! Get away from me!" She snapped, trying to draw upon the power within her. Though this time it was out of reach, like she was trying to grasp at air. Nothing. Liz began to hyperventilate. "Y-You were... you."
"I'm sorry." The young man's voice seemed to wobble, "Rhys would be angry if you died."
The man held up what looked like a pouch of some sort. He cradled it against his chest, as if to hide himself behind the object. The glowstone was placed on the floor next to the mattress she was positioned on. The frame had long since broken and fallen apart from age.
The awkward man tried to take a step forward, but paused when Liz tensed. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his brows knitted as if in thought.
"What is in the bag?" Liz croaked, her mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert.
"The healers use these. I want... I want to help." Cole's voice cracked as he bowed his head, almost shyly. The same man she knew murdered people, killed people in cold blood. He appeared to be a shy young man, unsure of himself. She almost let her guard down. Almost. Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at his sharp features. Observing.
But she was in no position to refuse help, even if it was from the one that tried to kill her. Liz was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She sighed and continued to stare up at him. Trying to gauge his expression. His eyes were hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair, eyes darting away shyly. Looking anywhere but at her own.
Liz chuckled wryly, almost not believing what she was seeing. "You tried to kill me. Now you want to help me. I don't understand you."
He simply stood there, saying nothing in response to her words. He only lowered his head even further, refusing to look up at her as he clutched the pouch between his thin fingers.
"If you try to harm me, I will kill you." She warned, wriggling her fingers weakly. Liz could feel the strength slowly being sapped from her body as it grew colder and colder. She knew she was dying. Slowly. But she was dying. Reopening the wound was probably the result of that.
Wonderful.
"I won't hurt you." He informed lightly, opening the pouch and sifting through it's contents.
"You need to clean the wound with—w-what are you doing?!" Liz flinched as he dumped some sort of thick liquid on her side, the cold contents trickled down her side. It felt like her flesh lit itself on fire as she squeaked and bit her tongue to keep her scream in.
Stars filled her vision, a growl escaping her clenched jaw.
Cole looked almost frightened as he dropped the pouch and the vial, taking a stumbling step backward and into the darkness of the room. Liz writhed and hissed, trying not to move her body to the best of her ability.
She thought she could hear him saying something, stuttering and apologizing. But the words didn't register through the pain.
"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I saw the healers, they use that to help the mages and—I didn't." Were the rushed words that registered. She took in ragged breaths as she focused on the ceiling above. Vines and roots jutted out of the cracked and aged stone, winding down the wall at her right. Her hands clenched and unclenched, trying to ride out the ebb and flow of the pain in her side.
When she turned her head, intent on chewing his head off, he was gone. Just gone. Like he'd never been there at all, in fact. Liz figured her expression right then looked absolutely demonic, so perhaps he ran away? She blinked and squinted in attempt to find the odd young man but it was to no avail.
Like a kicked puppy, he had probably skittered out the door before she could give him a piece of her mind.
The young mage did, however, feel quite horrible once she realized that something inside of that odd formula he applied stopped the bleeding completely. In fact, she was able to sit up. Though the latter activity took much effort on her part as she groaned and shifted in the dusty mattress.
Escaping had not been a simple task. The water had burned her wounds and movement had been slow, at best. Luckily, it wasn't deep enough to get into her major wound. Her joints remained stiff, even as she emerged from what she assumed was the sewers of Val Royeaux. If it hadn't been so dark out, she was sure that she would have been spotted and taken back to that hellhole.
Even in her exhausted state, she couldn't help but feel the relief when she saw the open skies. The stars. The moon. The moons.
The young woman's choppy hair stuck to the side of her sweaty face, her lungs burning from overexertion as she stared up at the sky. She wouldn't stop. Couldn't. Not even if she wanted to. Even in the dense foliage of the forest, where the moons refused to make an appearance.
She was stuck, dirty and alone. With nothing but her stolen dagger and medical pouch that Cole had left her. Her clothing left something to be desired, but perhaps she could liberate some from a nearby town or house?
Liz still couldn't get over the fact that none of this should even be happening. She was but a college student, thrust into a world not her own. A world where electricity didn't even exist. Horses, armor, magic—magic. Magic, of all things!
Liz squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to keep moving. In her injured state, it was rather hard to even traverse the terrain as she limped about. But she was able to, nonetheless.
The young mage's feet crunched through the fallen leaves, denoting the arrival of autumn. Autumn meant winter was near. Winter meant death. Death. She didn't want to die again. Liz choked back the desire to cry. The desire to just lay down and give up. Lay down and just …
How can one not think these kinds of things? Why can't it ever be easy?
Life wanted her to lie down and give up. Life wanted her to perish when winter came. Life was hard. And she refused to give up. If she was going to die again, it would be when she was fighting back with all she had.
That night, she couldn't even sleep properly. She curled in on herself underneath a pile of fallen leaves she'd gathered for insulation. It did help, for what it was worth. At least it wasn't freezing. Chilly? Sure. Freezing? No. Thankfully.
Liz barely slept, her body shaking not just from the cool air. But from the situation she was now in. Her mind wouldn't allow her to rest, only mull over the infinite possibilities as to how this was even happening. She just had to keep moving forward.
"I've finally escaped, now what do I do..." Liz muttered to herself as she breathed heavily. Erin's body was, yet again, beginning to cramp up and threaten to shut down on her.
Her injuries didn't help.
It was painfully evident she wasn't on Earth anymore, now that she got the chance to look around the outside world. Even the foliage looked different. She'd seen something that looked like a deer, but it was white. White! It's antlers even looked odd, to her. She'd never seen anything like it before. Don't get her started on the creepy bald rabbits.
That next day was spent foraging for some kind of food. Liz's body was sore from laying on the hard forest floor. She'd even tried to read the little handheld book in the healer's pouch, but it was in some odd language that she couldn't read. No matter how hard she stared at the pages, she couldn't even begin to comprehend what any of the symbols meant.
It didn't even look like any of the known languages she's ever come across during her time on Earth. The thought irked her. Hadn't they been speaking in English? Everyone she met spoke it, why did all of the books look like they were written in gibberish!? Well, gibberish to her.
Liz's fingers were numb from the chilled weather as she scraped at the dirt with her nails. Already her nails were chipping and her hands looked a little worse for the wear. Some of the roots being rather familiar, even in this odd terrain.
"Tch." She hissed and pulled her hand away, fingertips bleeding. Perhaps she should have used a stick. Her stare turned flat as she splayed her blackened hands in front of her face. Of course. A puff of air erupted from her nostrils as she said a silent 'thank you' to the plant that provided her with the meal.
A habit she'd picked up from growing up with her grandmother's words. 'Always give thanks to Mother Earth for what she provides.' The scolding yet gentle words filtered through her memory. She'd been quite adamant on drilling those teachings into Liz's head.
"Mreow." A sound broke the silence, making her ears twitch. The young woman turned her head and spotted a grey tabby housecat sitting next to the tree. It's fur was fluffy as it sat there and observed her with it's head tilted.
"Hello." She greeted and stood up slowly, as to not startle it. She held the roots against her chest protectively. The cat made another noise and turned and darted off into the undergrowth. Liz sighed and began wiping the dirt off of the meal she'd claimed for the night.
Perhaps she should have tried to catch the cat. The young woman was not opposed to eating house pets, afterall. Especially in times like these.
For the first time in her life, she was glad that she was taught these things at such a young age. Deep in thought, she almost didn't notice a grey blob in her peripheral. Liz's eyes flicked to the side and she spotted an old looking shack of sorts. The sight caused hope to fill her chest. The mage made her way carefully toward the building, still cradling her meal.
"Hello?" She called, trying to be sure that no one else may be occupying the place. Upon no answer, she knocked for good measure before inviting herself in. Nothing. It looked completely abandoned, like it hadn't been used in months. Some dried leaves of some sort lay on the creaky table, next to a mortar and pestle. Some vials and a shelf full of books sat on the far end.
The wind blew against the shack, sending a hollow sound through the building as she took a few steps inside. The floorboards creaked underneath her weight as her worn boots shifted on the aged carpet.
Liz squinted at the things as she ran her chipped fingernails across the binders on the shelf. Dust collected on her fingertip and she let out a low hum. She still couldn't read any of the script. The thought irritated her. She had no problem communicating with any of the people she'd met, but reading... reading on the other hand.
Rather unfortunate.
The shack would provide a good source of shelter from the upcoming week, if she set it up correctly. Upon closer inspection, there was already wood piled up on the side of the thing. This made her wonder if someone planned on returning at any point.
She figured that she'd find out soon enough, anyway.
The snares she'd set were unsuccessful thus far, making her feel a little disheartened. Liz knew that she would likely have to go out and try to hunt using the bow she had found in the shack. There were only a few arrows, so she'd either have to try to craft some or buy some in a nearby town. But even then, she didn't trust herself to not have an anxiety attack and accidentally burn something down.
All in all, it wasn't looking too promising. Especially with the days becoming colder and the nights even more relentless. Her body was still achey and she could have sworn that perhaps the injuries had gotten infected at one point. But that had not been the case. Evidently the paste in the pouch that Cole had used was some type of antibacterial. Or so she thought. It numbed the pain and almost looked like it was healing faster than it should.
The young woman ran her fingertip along the jagged cut along her upper ribcage. Liz winced as she reapplied proper bandaging and let out a shaky sigh.
"Can't give up." She muttered to herself, placing her hand upon the brass dagger she'd liberated from Cole. She shifted when she heard a meow come from the entrance of the shack. It was the cat. The housecat she'd been seeing pop up every now and again. Now that she could get a closer look at him, he was riddled with scars and one of his eyes looked like it had cataracts. "Hello, is this your house?"
"Mreow."
"I hope you do not mind my intruding. Where is your guardian?"
"Mreow." The cat trotted in through the door and jumped up on the table, which used to hold many dusty trinkets and books. Which were now set aside and neatly tucked away. The cat sat down, tail curled in front of it's body, and stared up at her with it's remaining eye.
"I'll take care of it as best I can, okay?" Liz paused and blinked a few times, before pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm talking to a cat. How lonely am I?"
A snort burst through the small animal's nose, causing her to open her eyes curiously. Did it just? Liz's hand dropped and she squinted down at the animal. The cat was cleaning itself, paw flicking behind it's ear calmly.
She was going insane. Definitely.
Perhaps she should just eat the cat. Unfortunately, she knew she might have to if her hunts continued to be unsuccessful. Liz always did love cats, so that alone didn't endear her to the thought. But if it meant surviving...
"Hopefully I will be back with food." She muttered to herself as she cinched the belt around her waist and adjusted the quiver and dagger at her hip. Feeding off of roots and plants she thought were edible was hardly enough nutrition for her body.
The small mage grabbed the bow from the wall and headed out into the woods. But not before setting some of the tobacco she'd found down on the ground next to a tree. For a safe hunt. She said a quick prayer and hopped through the wooded area as quietly as possible.
But life was never kind to her, was it? The sun was beginning to sink below the trees, casting the woods in a dimmed blue hue as night approached. Liz could not find anything during her hunt. Something did find her, though.
The young woman stared at a scraggly looking human, a knife held out threateningly. His hair was matted, much like her own, eyes wild and sunken in. She was far from civilization, she knew. She made sure.
What was he even doing here?
"Hand it over!" He practically screeched. Liz knew that at the distance he was at, pulling out an arrow would take too long and she'd just end up getting stabbed. So she held up her hands and offered her bow, the only thing she could think of that he would want.
"This is all that I have." She spoke in a level tone, trying not to agitate the man. Evidently it was the wrong thing to do, because as soon as she opened her mouth he lunged forward and tried to stab her. "Ah!"
She dodged out of the way and tripped on a root in the ground. Liz's body was still recovering from the rather large gash she'd gotten on her side. So her balance was off kilter. Her fall was ungraceful as her body went tumbling into the grass. The scraggly man turned around and got ready to lunge again.
"Look! You can take my things, just-" She was cut off, before she could continue. He yelled, interrupting her spiel. She cursed as he came forth, the dagger grazing her arm as she flailed about. With it knocked out of his hand, she tackled him.
She was quickly realizing how much of a disadvantage she had. Her body was smaller and much less muscular than his. She was also still suffering from exhaustion and injuries. At this rate, she'd be the one laying on the ground dead. The man grabbed a fistful of her choppy hair and pushed her into the unforgiving ground. Her fingers twitched and her eyes dilated into pinpricks. She couldn't—it was-
"S-Stop! I can't-" It was happening again! Just like the time at the library. She wanted to cry. 'No no. nonono not again, please.'
Something inside of her opened up, like she was grabbing at it subconsciously. Instinct.
Her or him? Her or him?
She chose herself. Who wouldn't?
Much like before, something inside swelled and burned. Begging to be released. Her hands, which were pressed against his chest, suddenly became warm. Warmer. Hot. Why was it so hot?
Liz screamed, everything in the vicinity exploded into a mass of reds and oranges.
'BOOM!'
It was blinding, her eyes squeezed shut to shield from the onslaught of light. Her ears were ringing and it felt like her body had been pushed into the ground even further. She wasn't sure if the blast itself knocked the wind out of her or if it was the fire stealing the oxygen.
The man, whom she hadn't even learned the name of, didn't even make a noise. Nothing. Liz's vision wavered and pain laced up her arms and into her shoulders. Almost as if the nerves themselves were on fire.
Her eyes flew open again as she rolled around, knowing exactly what that feeling was. The bandages on her burned arms were alight from the flame.
A piercing wail shot through the air as she came to a stop and curled into a fetal position. Fire fire. Her skin was boiling, burning! She could see through the bandages, then. Her angry red skin shone through as parts of the injury reopened. Liz couldn't control the tears that came out of her eyes, then.
The cool air shifted on her skin and she let out pained whimpers.
It was dark, then. In the distance, crackling like a campfire, was the scraggly man that had tried to kill her for her things. Or, at least, what was left of him.
There were a few smaller fires scattered amongst the remains of what was once lush greenery. Just like the time she'd conjured fire, she'd done it again. Just like the time at the library. Just like...
What was left of the man's body crackled and popped as the fire ate away at his flesh and clothing. This was what happened when she was in danger. She caused this. Like a bomb.
She was dangerous.
It's not real. It's not – not real. Its-
Emotionally drained wouldn't begin to describe how she felt as she limped back to the shack that she unofficially claimed as her own. The whole incident was scarring, pulling at something deep within her. Tossing the bits and pieces of her sanity for the birds to feed on. It would forever be seared into her memory.
Such is the way of life.
She could still smell the smoke. No. That wasn't it. Was it pipe smoke? Liz huffed and wondered if perhaps the occupant of the house was finally back. Would she ask to stay? Likely not. She was too prideful to ask for help. The thought of having to depend on someone again made her stomach churn uneasily.
The small mage used her walking stick to hobble up to the house. That's when she heard what only can be described as a smoker's cough.
"Hello?" She called weakly as she knocked on the shack. A few moment's passed. Nothing. "Hello, is anyone home?"
Still nothing.
She pushed the door open, but didn't see anyone. Only the old cat that kept her company. He lay curled up on the shoddy bed, his head slowly lifting to examine her. Liz sighed, wondering if maybe she was beginning to go insane. Earlier she'd heard someone whispering into her ear (which she theorized was a demon, again). Now she was hearing people coughing when no one was there.
Liz shuffled around through the drawers, ignoring the mirror atop the dresser. It had a cloth draped over it, ensuring that she couldn't catch a glimpse of herself. The body she was currently in definitely wasn't her own. Instead of long black hair, she had short and choppy brown hair. Her skin was darker than her already tanned skin from back...wherever she was from. In this body, she also had freckles. Tons of them, in fact.
Just thinking about it made her head spin. Thinking about the way the person in the mirror glared at her. Accusing her of stealing what wasn't hers. That incident in itself was proof enough that she wasn't home. Not on Earth. Liz realized then that her chances of getting back were slim. Didn't that mean she was dead in her world, then? She was dead. So was...so was Elise...
Liz's hands clamped onto something inside of the drawer, her breath coming out in hisses. That's when the rock dangling around her neck decided to glow.
"Erin? Erin, are you there?" It whispered, tearing her attention away from her thoughts.
"Y-Yes?" She asked hesitantly. Liz knew now that the girl's body she was inhabiting was named Erin. Obviously this … Maxwell Trevelyan's beloved younger sister. He spoke to her from time to time, since her escape. It'd only been a week, but he was so caring... so... he loved his sister. The thought itself pained her.
"You don't sound well, are you hurt?" How did he know? "Your voice sounded strained."
Ah.
"The hunt... didn't... turn out well." She breathed as she poured some water onto her burns to clean them off. Liz hissed as the pain only seemed to amplify.
"Are you okay? You need to be more careful..." The voice on the other side of the Sending Stone asked. A whisper, as if he was trying to remain quiet.
"Nothing. Just a small burn." Why did she feel the need to hide such things from him? She hardly knew him. Bits and pieces of Liz's own life from back on Earth was already missing. Forgotten. And it bothered her. Small portions of Erin's memories, however, seemed to pop up at times. Very rarely, sure. But they were there.
That must be the reason she cared for this Maxwell fellow. He was Erin's older brother.
"Erin." The voice sighed, "Is there a poultice of some sort in that abandoned shack at all?"
A few moments of careful digging and she grabbed the bottle inside of the medical pack she carried with her.
"Is it a type of antibiotic?" She questioned, turning the thing in her fingers. She'd been wondering what the thick liquid was for. She'd even tried to taste it once before. Never again.
"A what?"
"... nevermind." Liz stared down at her arms, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. He understood nothing. She could conjure fire. She was using a rock to talk to some man she didn't know. Or, at least, she thought she didn't know him.
But the young woman was growing more and more unsure of that by the day. Memories, not her own, would sometimes assault her mind. Happy times with Maxwell, a caring family. The Trevelyans. Her family. Supposedly.
"I have to leave. Please be safe." Maxwell's voice filtered through the stone before it dimmed and finally went dark. Liz didn't answer. She wasn't Erin. Or was she? This wasn't her body. She was Liz, the one that had taken Erin's life.
Erin Trevelyan. Who are you?
She thought to herself as she carefully began to apply the odd ointment type thing. It was more like a really thick liquid that she poured over her burns. She knew from experience that she shouldn't wrap burns too tightly.
The tabby housecat sat beside her and observed as she finished up with everything. Her small fingers flicked around deftly, as to not damage herself any more than she already was. His tail flicked back and forth, his lone eye staring at her lazily.
"What?"
"Mreow."
"It won't stop me from trying to get food for us, don't worry." She huffed tiredly and slowly made her way toward the fireplace, which took up a small portion of the wall in the shack. Some of the wood on the wall was chipped away and worn with age, letting in the cool air from outside. "Where I am from, I needn't bother with these things."
It was better to talk to this cat than herself. That way she wasn't as crazy, right? Though Liz couldn't help but think back upon her world. Her home. The cat sat nearby, silent as ever, as she positioned the wood.
"Grandma taught me to respect the gifts given from the hunt. Unfortunately, the hunt today was an example of just how bad things could go." She spoke to herself as she finished positioning everything. Her arms shook and stung, but the ointment seemed to have dulled the pain a bit.
"Bow hunting is out of the question-ergh." She tried to light the kindle she'd set at the bottom with some flint and steel. "Snares will suffice, f-for now. S-Shit."
It sparked and the bits caught fire, slowly growing. Usually one would need to standby and help it grow, but the sight of the element caused her chest to freeze. Liz felt bile beginning to rise as the images from earlier flashed before her eyes. The scraggly man. The smell of burnt meat. The bodies of the apprentices in the library laying around her, the templar man against the wall. The sickening crunch of bones as his upper half was separated from his bottom half—
The mage stumbled back and felt her butt hit the floor with a 'THUMP!'. Her brown eyes darted around and her hands flew to her mouth, her stomach turning. She could have sworn she could still smell it. Taste it, even. That's when she scrambled out the door and slammed it shut, taking in lungfuls of air as she pushed away the nausea.
Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Liz needed only to focus on the cool autumn air as it bit into her skin. Her cheeks were already starting to flush as she crouched forward and stared at the dark ground beneath her. She was reduced to this. A fumbling mess. Barely hanging onto the frayed edges of her sanity. This world... she was not made for this world. Wherever this was.
The woman stood up straight and leaned against the debilitated shack, her gaze on the darkened sky above her.
Life was much harder, after that. It was kind of like a wake up call, for Liz. A wake up call that she needed. Back home, she was expected to finish college and get a career. Finding a career and keeping a stable income being the hardest thing that one could really ever go through. Where she was from, at least. But that was a whole other animal.
Here … here it was different. While there were some definite similarities, that's all they could really be called. Similarities. Nothing was the same. Liz was now in a time where they didn't even have flush toilets. If the lack of lights in the Trevelyan mansion were anything to go by. The handmade furniture and old masonry. Just bits she'd picked up on before she was shoved out into the cold unforgiving world completely unknown to her.
Something so simple was overlooked on Earth.
Here it was different. Here, it was kill or be killed. Here, she had to fight to survive. Whereas back home, the only thing she had to fight for was the remote.
Here, she had to hide because she was a mage. She could wield magic. Magic.
Liz was dangerous. A thought that she couldn't get out of her head. She knew not the complexities that a 'mage' had to go through, but if the earlier incident was anything to go by... Hell, she could be a walking time bomb for all she knew. Nothing came without a price. And the fact that she could probably blow someone up or light them on fire just because she thought about it? Perhaps Maxwell was wrong. People like her needed to be controlled. Put on a leash.
Liz stared down at her hands, eyes widened in fear. Little puffs of white mist floated out as she took in short raspy breaths. She clenched her hands, cursing her fear of people. For all she knew, this 'Circle Tower' killed mages. Humans, afterall, feared what they did not understand. Fear did horrible things to people.
Liz didn't want to die...
But enough of that, what she needed to focus on was surviving. As long as she stayed out here away from people, she couldn't hurt anyone. The only person she could hurt was herself. And she was okay with that.
She let out a sigh from her nose as she kicked the dirt up at her feet, the moonlight offering ample illumination. At least hunting and fishing had been pretty much drilled into the young woman's head since the day she could walk. One of the perks of growing up in a traditional Native American environment, she supposed. Most didn't care much for the culture, but her grandparents had been adamant on teaching her some things.
'Lizabeth help me with the wigwam. Liz gotta tan these hides! Liz Liz Liz.' The thought drifted through her head in her grandmother's voice, causing a saddened smile to grace her lips. She missed home so much it ached in her chest, a small tear that seemed only to get bigger as the days dragged on. A week, now? Two? It was hard to tell. Maybe those potato-like roots were not as edible as they seemed and they were messing with her head?
Not that she ever thought their teachings would come in handy. Thankfully she was a diligent student, just as she was in school. Liz's eyes slowly drifted from the dirt on the ground to the darkening sky, the stars peeking out and twinkling merrily.
Here she was lonely, alone—the emptiness settled in her gut. Realization setting in like the plague, sticking and clawing at her insides.
I really am alone.
That night she cried for the first time in years.
"Little Light. Little Light, what's this?" A whisper floated through the air, or maybe perhaps inside of her head. A voice that she was never sure was male or female.
"That's my television. See?" Little Liz giggled at her imaginary friend. How could he not know what a television was? Her mother was in the middle of watching an old Star Wars movie as she trotted into the other room. Her friend, nothing but a white shadow, floated along.
"'Lizabeth, you didn't finish your dinner." Her grandmother crossed her arms and pointed at the table.
"My friend was hungry, too."
"What have I told you about feeding the spirits?"
"Mom, you can't keep filling her head with your spirits nonsense. She's just a child!" Liz's mother snapped from the couch in the living room. Her grandmother turned toward the young woman, a scolding look on her wizened features.
"Oh, Sarah. Teaching the young ones about the culture is important and you know it."
Their conversation slowly escalated into an argument. While her mother had greatly disagreed with keeping the culture alive, as she'd found it pointless. Her grandmother had always believed in the teachings. She lived them. Breathed them. Passing them on to their younglings was important.
Little Liz stared blankly at the two as they threw words back and forth, voices muffled. Her friend of many years flicked around the two, as if attempting to calm them. The little shadow flitting, flickering, flying in circles.
That was the last time they spoke.