The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)

Chapter 13: Coda

    If he had seen it earlier, he would have been certain of what he could smell.

The tang of the pine trees, the bright snap of bog myrtle, vetch, and gorse, then underneath it all, the damp musk of fertile soil, the cleansing rain that never ceased. For Jackson, it smelt like a sanctuary. It sounded like a sanctuary.

Only the singing of the birds and the steady calm beating of his heart could be heard.

The ground he lay on was firm with a petrichor odor.

There had been no sense of familiarity with the surrounding, even as he opened his eyes and slowly adjusted to the light. He took in a moment to take in the view of the colossal pine trees hovering over him and blinding the sun rays from reaching his eyes with their verdant leaves and branches.

Slowly, he sat upright, finally confused as to where he was despite the serenity of it all.

It was an alien environment for him, feeling unholy to even be in it. He had grown used to the deafening and exhausting life of the war and—

The war!

He jolted upwards, standing to his feet in alert and reaching for his abdomen, rubbing his hands on the strange new white ruffle shirt, stainless and a little large for his size. Below he paired black pantaloons... having nothing on his feet.

Jackson's hair fell to his shoulders, smoother and holding much more flow than he remembered. However still, it still looked disheveled on his head, falling to his face until he pushed it back.

Now standing to his feet, he looked around at the strange forest, wondering if he was alone and most of all, if it was a dream. He was most certainly smart enough to know dream from reality, and he could recall that in reality, his brother had pierced a knife through his flesh... a memory he shuddered from just by remembering.

Does that mean, I'm dead?

The thought finally dawned on him. Certainly it would be a miracle if he survived that pierce. He could only imagine the blood he had lost.

For a brief moment, if he was not drowning in his thoughts too deeply, Jackson could hear the light swish of water from a distance. It sounded like a stream, which he was certain was near.

Without wasting a second, he followed the sound, getting louder and clearer to his ears as he smelt that salty sea-like water.

Not five minutes later, the young man was able to make his way through the open forest, spotting a small stream flowing from a distance he did not know to another destination he did not know.

He knew nothing. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there. As far as he knew, he hated not knowing. The unknown was meant to be feared.

With a depth of at least only three feet and width of five, Jackson knelt to his knees and reached for the clear water, bringing his hands together to form a depth enough to carry water inside.

The water was cold, just as expected. He quickly washed his face with it, feeling it bring him to life.

Clearly, he was thirsty, hungry, tired and most damn of all confused. He had to fight every urge within him from drinking of the water. He had no information of what could be inside due to where he was.

The unknown was to be feared.

Almost missing it, a small, soft, light chuckle brushed passed his ears from ahead.

Quickly, he lifted his head ahead and saw a small girl standing not far from him but across the stream. She was dressed in a bright pink floral mantua dress. The ruffles on her side looked like pink roses, only much enormous, nearly covering her whole small slender arms.