The Fickle Winds of Autumn

36. The Cell

Kira woke with a startled jolt and gasped down a lungful of air.

A thick, dark dream of endless falling still pressed in on her, clouding her thoughts and groggy body; a nervous anxiety of perpetual drifting tried to suffocate her, but the unyielding solidity of a cold hard floor dug into her ribs and assured her she was no longer tumbling into a black void.

Perhaps she had died and this was some sort of painful afterlife?

She roused her stuporous body and rolled over to her back to relieve the pressure on her side.

She forced her bleary eyes open; they blurred and swirled; a dim, uncomfortable cave came into focus; the grey, barren rock was bleak and austere - but at least it was dry and warm and out of the horror of the savage, biting wind.

Her ears strained against the hushed stillness; a faint, dull rustle echoed distantly; perhaps it was the angry rushing weather attacking the mountain outside?

She groaned and reached a lethargic arm to rub her slow, heavy head; her drowsy body seemed to have been sleeping motionless for days.

Dark, sluggish fragments of memory drifted back uncertainly.

Ellis!

Aldwyn!

Gone!

The loneliness of the cruel mountain.

Falling!

A sudden pulse of panic rushed through her thoughts.

But the stone ground of the cave held her firm; she was not plummeting to her death; the freezing air was not rushing past her terrified mind.

Her clumsy fingers rubbed her head and neck again.

Evidently she was warm and breathing and still alive somehow.

Her shoulders throbbed with a stiff, aching pain.

Perhaps she had been lying awkwardly on them?

She stretched to touch them; they were gashed and wounded somehow; the tunic near them was torn and matted with dried blood.

She must try to wake up properly; she must work out where she was and what had happened.

She flexed and extended her reluctant limbs; her eyes adjusted and accustomed themselves to the vague light.

Two lumpy shadows lay dark on the floor not far from her, near the wall of the cave.

She forced herself up onto wobbling knees and crawled towards them; she squinted through the gloom; the black, shapeless silhouettes strained into focus - two bodies lay slumped on the floor.

Her mind raced and churned.

A hopeful pulse of adrenaline rushed through her; she must find out, she must know.

Her knees scraped and stabbed on the rough surface as she moved closer.

Yes!

She recognised those boots and clothes.

It was Ellis!

His sagging body lay twisted and face down.

Her heart convulsed with relief and happiness; she gasped down a grateful breath; her thoughts wanted to jump up and run and dance, but her faltering limbs would not permit such a celebration.

But had he survived like her?

Was he still alive?

She reached to rouse him, but noticed a strange bloodied gash, torn into the shoulder of his tunic. The skin beneath was badly cut with a deep wound. Her own shoulders stung and prickled in sympathy.