I'm unsure how long I slept this time, but with the little light peering through the opening of this mine, that means its evening. Or maybe it's early morning. Despite the mystery of the time I mused about another.

My hair.

I gave the shoulder length locks a soft tug feeling a frown growing on my lips. What little I can recall, I don't recall having my hair this long. Or maybe it's always been this long, and just remembered a time when it was shorter. I can't remember much neither do I know how many years I've been tuck away into this cave. It might've been weeks, months, or years. Then again, my skin is lightly tanned meaning I've been exposed to day enough to retain this light brownish complexion. The way out of this cave though is barred same with chained. Whomever placed me in ensured I couldn't "wander off" by mistake.

Coming to terms with my current predicament only took a few hours. I could muse or ponder for hours about who I am or what I am. I could speculate til winter with how my mind is racing with many thoughts and considerations, but where would that leave me? It wouldn't answer my questions because I've nothing to build a basis on outside of my physical condition.

I sighed softly and rubbed my itchy eyes. How long did I cry for further disgracing myself with such weakness? I'm not so weak that I can't do something with the time I have. I stood up from my bed finding myself out of that white silk I wore before strangely enough. I was in sack clothing and a dress of sorts. It was warm and comfortable. I'm still being taken care of it seems. Maybe I was asleep for a while, longer than I expected. Did I lose myself to madness while plagued by those dreams. The darkness, blood, pain, and screams. Dreams of carnage and a hell unfathomable tortured me while I slept. Is it possible I was stuck in that dream while my body moved on it's own. Is that why my hair is longer now?

I can't know and found myself placing that thought away. I finally found my way out of that hell that I seemed to relive again and again until I grew deadened to it. I could only stomach the same cycle of hell before I grew sick of it. I had to find a way out only to find myself in other places. I can't even call it sleep especially if time pass by to such an extent. I saw much in my dreams once I ran from the demons. Bits and pieces of a story I couldn't make sense of. All the faces of each person were gone and yet they felt so familiar. I saw myself riding a horse surrounded by soldiers one moment and in a tent hugging a man another. I'd jump from one moment to the next again and again as if jumping through years of someone's life. A life they lost their ability to remember.

It was a jumbled mess of memories, knowledge, thoughts, wishes, and desires all leading me to the consensus I've reached now. I have to train my body and find the dark power that cursed me. I have to get my hand on some armor and a sword. At least two knives as well as a crossbow. Explosives will be useful as well. At this very moment I've nothing of the sort, but I can get better. If those things exist, they came for me once. Who's to say they won't again? It's in me to train my body and adapt it to what's out there, I'm sure of it.

I wandered the cave and found a few things moved from before. The table was on the opposite side of the cave and animal furs tucked near the bed. I noticed three jugs on the table and a few baskets too. I slowly tiptoed my way to the table and examined the contents of the baskets. I smiled at what was inside: Jerky and bread. My stomach growled a bit making it look like a gourmet meal. I snagged a few pieces of meat and a slice a bread and sat down. This definitely wasn't here last time I was awake. More proof that time has passed. They left enough food to last maybe two or three days. Five if rationed out. Obviously, someone cared for me while I was… Asleep? Dreaming? Comatose? I'm sure what call it and experience to be trapped in another space or your mind while your body persists.

I quickly finished a small portion of the food then relaxed. I'll close my eyes and focused on what I do remember from those dreams.

Some time past and it all went towards the care and cleansing of my body. The images are all painting a small portrait of what I concluded are memories of the person I was before waking up now. With great focus I could see them again and with good clarity I'd like to assume. I can remember the hairs on the face of one man but can't recall much more. One man's image has crossed my mind many times. A man with brown hair tied back in a pony tail with white skin and played with knives. He threw a knife at a man with black hair. It hit an apple from atop his head from thirty steps away. I counted them even. Every image I've seen I've studied to the best of my ability. It's all one big amalgamation though and through I'm struggling to separate. I know he threw knives only because the picture shown the knife in flight and his hand the obvious one that release it. The worse are those of the monsters, demons, or whatever those things are.

Death is in my past. I prayed to a god that probably doesn't exist that it remains in my future. This mark on my chest is a reminder that I'm not safe from anything. I learned in my musing that I can see things, but consequently they can see me too. They want me, to inhabit my body, and feast on my soul. They called me something that chilled me to the bone.

"The Sacrifice…"

The woman I was, am, was a sacrifice for something and her actions led me to becoming one as well. Do I call the person I was "me" or do I call who I am now "me?" I can't really guess. I can't be the same because of what I've seen and the insurmountable volume of information swimming in my mind. If only I knew my name then maybe it can help me find a good starting point.

"Caska."

My eyes opened and I was in a field. One I couldn't rightly identify. Before me was a sword though. A common steel sword and yet it felt like the world to me. "Why," I asked myself until I felt someone grab my leg. I looked back and saw a man. His clothing was anything but common and the side of his face bleeding from a wound. He looked frantic, desperate even. He was pulled me away from the sword and pulling hard. Was this man out to harm me with his blade? No, I can't give him the opportunity.

So I kicked him in the face with my other foot smashing my child like heel into his nose. The man staggered back taken by surprise from the blow that I dealt him. My body was small, and I felt weak but something in me pushed me forward. I needed to get that blade, or I'd die this day. I reached for it and grabbed the hilt as if it were a lifeline and drowning in the middle of an ocean. An ocean of despair and pain. This was my line to pull myself to safety, but it wasn't over. The man climbed up to his feet and noticed I've the blade in hand. His eyes turned red as he tore at me ripping what clothing I had to ribbons. He scratched, drawing blood and bruised my skin. The pain was massive, but my fear was grandeur. I don't what to die.

The sword was heavy in my weak little hands. My arms could just barely lift it meaning I can't strike this man with the blade. Instead, I grasp the blade of the sword firmly in my left hand. As firmly as you can with a child's hands. Then placed the guard at my thigh to hold it steady. I waited before kneeing forward just as the man reached out for me. My blade shot out guided by the hand holding it into his chest. I had to lean back to fire the sword at far forward as possible meaning I had no way to recover my balance. Both of us fell to the ground and him impaling himself further onto the sword.

"My first kill," I thought as the life of this man faded away shown by the light that left his eyes. His body fell on top of mine. Something sticky and warm was covering me making me sick to my stomach. His blood… it was everywhere. On my hands, on my chest, and even on my face. His face, pale and lifeless, was right next to mine. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. More than ever, I wanted this sick bastard off of me. I pushed but pinned under him. I let go of the swords and tugged my hands up until they were on his shoulder. I pushed and pushed until his body lifted enough to worm my way out from under him. Once I was free I crawled back away from the dead man. The man that I killed. I wanted to puke but nothing came out outside of air. Mother hadn't fed me that day, again. She would always just give me the bare minimum and keep me looking somewhat healthy. Crying only earned me a smack over the back where bruises couldn't be seen.

Hatred. I hate my mother for selling to this man for a pig. I hate this man for placing his hands on me. I hate this life where I…

"Well done." I heard above me and saw another man. Or maybe it'd be easier to call him a boy of around 14 or 15. His hair was silver, almost angelic in a way despite the small smudges of dirt on his face. His features were soft but those eyes contrast it. He has an empty scabbard telling me that the sword I used was his. One that he gave me to protect myself with. This act told me this man wasn't to be trusted. He'd allow a girl to be assaulted just to witness whether she protects herself or not. Still, I couldn't help but feel relief and reverence towards this man. He didn't help, but he gave me a chance to help myself. Maybe that's the greatest help you can give a person.

My fear… it melted away like the snow when spring comes. A soft and quiet farewell.

"What is your name?" the man asked me. One word left my mouth sealing my fate to this man.

"C-Caska," I said to the man, the angel before me.

"Caska?"

That name was called again but not from man before me. Before I realized I was no longer in a field covered in dirt and blood. No, I was back in the cave from whatever that was. My name… I know my name.

"Caska." I tasted the name and found it… right. It was okay. It is my name. That's who I am. My name is Caska. With this revelation came many dark and hurtful memories. I have a mother and no father. I never knew my father; I have a mother. A mother that hated me because I looked like my father who… abandoned us both. She hated me and she sold me for a couple pigs and some gold. I remembered her excuse which made me chuckle some. She told me "I can make another bastard" to my face before I was carted off to be given to that old man in his 50's I think. I felt so numb to this fact though. I have a mother, but I don't know her or care to know someone who valued me so little.

I heard a loud creak above. It had to be the sound of the bared door above being opened. Finally, I can meet my jailer. No matter the circumstances to hold another in such conditions labels you a jailer. To my honest disbelief, my infamous jailer is a little girl? A little girl of light complexion perhaps coming up to my stomach. She's light-brown hair that she wears in a bun and dark green eyes shown because of the lantern she held up to guide herself down the small path to me. She wore simple clothing, a white dress and red apron and sacks on her feet. She's an extremely adorable little girl with slightly puffy cheeks. I can tell how pure she was just by the soft smile on her lips as if happy to perform her tasks.

I stood up to my feet from the chair feeling my gown catch my feet. I tripped forward but shot hands out to catch myself ending in a planking position. I breathed out and climbed back up to my feet. This gown of mine was too long for me and knew this yet still tried to move faster than I should've.

"Oh god," I heard the pitter patter of little feet come down to the mine I was in and ran toward me. A little girl maybe 12 took me by the shoulders. She was such cute little girl as well with innocent and ignorant eyes. "Are you okay Caska?" she asked showing genuine concern. I didn't say a word still astonished by the fact it was this little girl taking care of me perhaps this whole time. She helped me lean upward into sitting position and smiled. "Oh yeah I forgot," the girl sadly looking with worry. "You can't talk." The girl helped me up and pushed the chair open. Slowly she helped me sit down and ran over to another basket with food in it, I assumed. She placed it on the table and opened it. Instead of food it was a jars of something. Honey by the looks of it in one and maybe butter the other.

I watched as she placed the lantern down on the table and rubbed her shoulders. "It's a little cold. I should've started the fire earlier. Sorry," she said sheepishly. I felt myself snicker a bit and watched her run towards an oven of sorts. She grabbed wood stacked next to it and got it prepped. I rested my elbows on the table and watched as she lit the fire and fanned it to get it started. The stack for the smoke appeared to run up and out the cave. "Oh, good morning. I almost forgot to tell you." This poor girl is doing everything in reverse. I like her.

"Today I am going out and I'm going to take you with me," she said sounding really excited. A child's innocence like this is a refreshing change of pace from sitting alone in the damp, cold darkness. I watched as the little girl placed down a couple plates from her little basket. One them she placed a loaf of bread, berries on the other, salted pork with the bread, and finally butter on the last plate. A feast for a king that's for sure. This isn't my jailer but a god send.

I smiled at the little girl and she returned it. Then she blinked and leaned in towards me, staring directly into my eyes. Hers were inquisitive about something and her mind racing with questions.

"C-Caska… your eyes aren't empty anymore," she noted. I suppose that meant that I was loss in the mind long enough for any change to be recognizable. That answered that question. It spawned a bit of fear as well. I woke up once and feel into the dark only for my body to carry on. Could it happen again if I lose myself to he nightmares again? I shook that thought for now. I placed my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed the girl out of my face and down to the chair next to mine.

"Thank you…" I told the little girl. Her eyes widened from shock. The words coming out of my mouth must've seemed very remarkable to hear. I grabbed the knife the girl had next to the basket. A bread cutting knife with another next to it for the butter, I'm sure. With master precision I cut the bread in small slices one at a time. I don't think I'm one to remain silent for long so began to speak. "I know you've questions so I'll answer what I can, but I don't know who you are. I understand one thing though." I looked down to the girl still wide in the eyes and speechless. "You've been caring for me for a long time."

I placed the knife down and took the girls hands in my own. They were calloused from working in fields and around a home by the feel. The warmth was nice though. It's the first warmth I've ever felt in my life as far as I can remember. "Thank you so much," I said honestly.

"Uhh…" was the most intelligent response the young lady could muster. I'd like to give her time to recollect her thoughts, but I've so many questions to ask and couldn't resist.

"Do you know who I am or was before waking up?"

"I... uhh… uhhh… R-Rickert would! I'll get him!!!!" With that the girl was out the seat and charging up and out of the mine leaving me alone with the food. Too bad too. I was hoping to share the meal at the very least. Eating alone feels strange. Maybe I never really ate alone before. If I did it wasn't that common. I ate the meat and the bread together with butter smothered on top and rested in my chair. This meat was salted to preserve it for the winter. It was different from what I woke up to eat. I can feel the cold and see the snow outside the bars of my jail. I wonder now how long they had me in here and why. Then again if I was lost in the mind then the body is capable of anything to including wandering off. That explains the chains on the exit.

"CASKA!!!" I heard overhead. Still strange to hear that name despite knowing its mine. I told the white haired man this name when I was a child. Still, I find it strange. It's like it's no longer mine but belonging to another. I'm so curious to see just how true these musings really are.

I looked up to the young man that called my name. In common clothing for the cold and gloves the young blonde man ran down towards me and halted right in front of me. "I-Is it true!" He dropped down to his knees in front of me looking ready to cry from bright blue eyes. "A-are you back?"

The answer I gave him was by raising my hands up and cupping the boy's cheeks. Images of him, but younger with a childish poorly cut set of hair and armor, appeared in front of me. One who I watched grow a bit by bit seemingly for year. Suddenly one of the faces from my memory was filled. Yes, I know who this boy is by name. He's been at my side for years indeed.

"Rickert…" I examined the young man's features. I remember a child struggling in the battle field, bringing me water, and caring for my horse. I remember the nights he came to my tent and lay down with me as the battles earlier pushed him to the brink. I remember holding this little boy as he struggled with the blood cursing our hands. I remembered a boy around the same age as that girl before, hit this wasn't him. No, "You've grown up, Rickert." I smiled at the young man feeling such a strange sensation in my chest. My words broke the dam holding back the tears that threatened to fall him his eyes. The young man wrapped his arms around my waste and sobbed in my lap. I placed a hand on his back and closed my eyes feeling my own tears fall as well.

The warmth I felt was so familiar… and soothing to my soul.