Past-Tense: Her Spirit's Presence

1- Kosmo

Kosmo sat up, panting. What was that dream...? It was hazy. She couldn't remember the face of the hooded figure... Who was it? Kosmo didn't know. Actually, she wasn't even sure that she wanted to know. 

She lifted her hand above her head, able to see the ceiling through it. Mo had said to sleep inside today, but it was weird not to be surrounded by trees like before, before her mom knew about Kosmo. 

Mo...

Kosmo smiled, thinking back on how they had met...

***

The girl sat up, panting. She felt weird. She looked at her hands and blinked, then narrowed her eyes. She could see through her hand...

SHE COULD SEE THROUGH HER HANDS?!

"GAH!" she jumped up, staring at her hand in horror. She looked at her other hand. WHAT THE...!? She took deep breaths, rubbed her eyes, and looked at her hands. They were still see-through. I'm not imagining this. 

Now that she thought about it, the fact that she could see through her hand wasn't the only weird thing. She didn't remember where she came from, or how she got here, or how old she was, but she was pretty sure her name was Kosmo... But maybe this was all a dream. It was certainly odd enough to be...

But even if it was, she definitely felt a throbbing sense of pain. In her forehead. Headache...? She sat down again. Shouldn't she not be able to feel pain? She felt the grass underneath her, but her hand went right through it. How could she sit on this surface, but her hands went right through it...? She shook the thought away; as bizarre as it was, she shouldn't dwell of this. If this was a dream, she would wake up soon; she should make the best of it. 

She stood up again with an internal sigh, and walked, her legs going through the blades of grass that surrounded her. 

She thought about her position, and how she couldn't force herself to figure everything out. But she couldn't help it. I can' t remember anything about my past. I can walk through stuff, and I can see through myself. I feel pain. Do I have amnesia? 

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head quickly. NO! No, no, that's not it...could I be...

...A GHOST!? 

***

Kosmo had been wondering for a while. She wasn't all that confident that she would find anything, much less figure out anything for sure. That's what she thought, until a clutter of houses came into view. Excitement surged through her veins as she thought, JACKPOT! 

She had wondering randomly, and somehow, maybe out of luck, she'd come across shelter. Maybe the townspeople would let her live with them? Maybe if she helped them with chores. She thought about it, but as she had no other place to go, she darted up the hill. 

Grass and flowers swayed in the wind as she overlooked the village. There were at least 20 small huts, with very few people walking around. It looked...cramped...but it was, again, better than nothing at all. She started her trudge down the hill, but her lost her footing on a loose rock and tumbled down it instead. 

She rolled down the hill, the rush of wind, smell of dirt, and grass pressed against her face almost too much. She let out a scream as she saw the sharp fence posts that she was bound to land on. 

Nobody heard her. Nobody would see her. She would die... she would die... she didn't want to die...

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping this terror was enough to wake her from this nightmare. But she didn't. Before she could, she blacked out. 

***

"Is she okay? She landed pretty hard..." 

"Shh! She's waking up!" Kosmo heard hushed whispers, but she didn't feel like opening her eyes. She was so ti—

See-through hands. Rolling down the hill. Inevitable death. 

Her eyes popped open and she sat up, looking around. Brown, wooded walls...around 15 beds...hurt people and sick people scattered across them all...medicine cabinets... Where was she!?

Kosmo saw two people sitting by her bed, one with purple hair, dark brown skin, green eyes and ragged cloths across her body (which seemed to be their only source of clothing), while the other had wild, boy-cut blue hair with a braid hanging down the side of his face, with golden eyes and dark brown skin, with the same cloth-clothing. 

"Wh-" she touched her throat, alarmed at how ragged it had come out. "Who...are you?" 

"I'm Yggdrasil, this is Pomegranate! I'm Pomegranate's assistant," said the blue-haired man. "You...um...fell down the hill," he said, trying not to burst out laughing, however his shaking shoulders gave it away. 

Pomegranate gave a troubled sigh and grumbled, "Don't laugh, you don't have the right, after what happened between you and Kosmo." 

"Kosmo? That's my name!" Kosmo said. Did they recognize her...? Was this her home...? Did she, in fact, have amnesia? 

"Really? Kosmo is a 13-year-old girl that lives in house 4, but she doesn't come out once. This man over here decided it would be a good idea t—" Pomegranate started. 

"OK OK I GET IT SHUT UP!" Yggdrasil hissed.

"Pfft," Kosmo chuckled. "Um, may I ask a question?" Was this to straightforward? Would they look at her like she was crazy, because she was so stupid?

"Ask away!" Yggdrasil grinned. 

"Well, um,  my hands are see-through. I can walk through stuff. Is that normal?" Kosmo's voice trailed off, but they seemed to have heard her. 

"Um, they aren't though? You look like a normal 16-year-old elf to me..." Yggdrasil said a little worriedly. 

Kosmo blinked slowly, taking this information in. She looked down at her hands. They were dark brown, with slight claws for nails. She wore ripped rags for a skirt, she noticed with embarrassment (it meant that somebody had dressed her while she was out cold). 

And then, a girl stepped into the room. She looked shyly up at Yggdrasil and whispered, "My father's sick again, can I please have his medication to give him?"

"Yes, Kosmo, one second." 

Kosmo's eyes went wide and she gasped, "Kosmo! So that's who you are!" 

Kosmo, the 13-year-old, looked up at Kosmo, the 16-year-old, and her eyes widened. "Why do you look like me? What do you want? Are you from the Mages?" 

Yggdrasil glared at Kosmo and hissed, "Don't mention them! You know better," he hesitated. "But now that I think about it...you're right...the similarity is a little...um...interesting." 

"Kosmo—" 

"Call me Mo, to help with confusion," she said, her voice trembling. Oh. She's scared. 

"Can I talk to you, Mo, after you get the medication?" 

"Yes, that's fine, you can meet me by my house, the one with the two willow trees bending over it. That's House 4, with the chore of Crops, if you were wondering." Mo stood up tall, though her voice wavered. She's strong for her age. Even though she's scared, she's doing her best to get through it. Interesting. 

"Alright, then. How about tomorrow around midday?" 

Mo nodded, and with her father's medication in hand, left.