Amity and Enmity

Chapter 8

Several Years Ago

The young woman awoke. As she regained consciousness, the cold hit her; her entire body was numb and shivering. A relentless blizzard whirled around the young woman, deafening her ears and blinding her eyes.

Forcing herself to move, the young woman struggled to sit up; either an incredible force prevented her, or her body was too weak from the cold to even budge.

Not giving up, the young woman stubbornly squirmed and wriggled her body until, eventually, the layers of snow that buried her shrugged off.

Now free, she sat up groaning and shivering. She rubbed the back of her aching head and then almost screamed as she felt something oozing and bumpy and wet. Her fingers recoiled, and she saw that they were now covered in blood, as were the insides of the hood of her coat.

Had she been struck over the head? Was that why she had been unconscious in the snow?

But that was a question for another time; there were more important things at hand, the young woman knew, and that was to get out of this snowstorm. There was nothing around but endless blankets of snow.

As the wind and the blizzard continued to howl, thin black strands of hair gushed forwards and covered the young woman's face. She shoved her hair to the side, trying to see through the constant snow, flakes of it smothering her eyelashes, sticking and clunking to them.

She told herself it was best to keep moving, knowing that it would build up even a measly ounce of body heat. She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and pulled her fur-trimmed hood over, relieved to have it to protect her ears from the constant frost but still grimacing from occasionally feeling the patches of dried blood inside of it.

Though the young woman trekked forwards, not knowing how far the blizzard reached, she fought through it and hoped to eventually get out of it or at the very least find shelter.

Eventually, she did as she spied a naturally formed cave on the side of a snow-covered mountain. The young woman rushed inside, sobbing tears of relief that almost froze on her cold cheeks as they fell. To keep warm and not die of frostbite or hypothermia, the young woman paced around the small cave, occasionally doing star jumps despite all she wanted was to rest.

Now that her blood was properly pumping around her body and she was safe from the blizzard still howling outside, the young woman finally had time to think.

Where was she?

Why was she unconscious in the snow?

What caused that head injury of hers?

And most importantly, who was she?

The young woman recalled back as far as she could, but her first memory was only moments ago when she woke up in the snow.

There was nothing else.

Just blank pages.

Perhaps her severe head injury had given her amnesia? That was the more feasible solution, or rather the only one she could think of.

Hesitantly, she slowly reached out to the back of her head again, this time mentally prepared. Her fingers lightly brushed against the large gnash, the scrunched up and peeling skin, the dried lumpy bump.

What could have caused it? It seemed like she had received quite a brutal hit at the back of her head, one that she was surprised to have even lived through as she saw how much blood had stained the inside of her hood.

Her hands carefully felt around, examining the wound gingerly as it stung with every touch. Then she reached the nape and felt something else; a scar, no multiple ones. There were letters carved into the skin. She traced the scar, wanting to know what the letters spelt out.