Badlands

9

Consciousness clawed its way back to me, dragging with it the remnants of a scream that never left my throat. My chest heaved, lungs grasping at the air as if I'd been dragged from the depths of water. 

Panting, the dampness of perspiration clung to my skin like a second shroud, chilling me despite the warmth of breath that fogged the small space. My eyes, wide with the remnants of terror, darted across what little I could make out in the dim light. The shelter was rudimentary, walls cobbled together with branches and debris, the ceiling a patchwork of leaves that barely held back the creeping dawn.

I shifted, the ground beneath me unyielding and littered with twigs that dug into my back. As I turned my head, searching for some semblance of safety, a hand—swift and sure—clamped over my mouth, staunching the tail end of my gasp. 

With that touch, reality anchored me, and I stilled. The scent of earth and pine sap mingled with the metallic tinge of blood—familiar yet foreign—filling my senses as I recognized the imperative for silence. 

Tears betrayed me, streaming down as silent sobs racked my chest. I'd stifled the noise, but the shuddering was uncontrollable.

"Shh!" Theana's voice cut through the muffled cries, her breath hot against my ear. Her fingers were firm but not unkind on my lips.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" Her whisper held an edge of steel, yet it trembled with a fear she'd never admit. 

Then, Theana's fingers wrapped around my wrists, her grip tightening until the dull ache sharpened into pain. 

Her glare was an arrow, sharp and unerring, pinning me beneath its weight. Those eyes, usually a stormy grey, had darkened to the colour of thunderclouds ready to burst. 

I searched for words, any plea that could soften the rigid set of her jaw, but found none. 

In those eyes, I read a thousand unspoken commands.

The tremble began in my knees, a small betrayal that rippled up through my body as my gaze locked onto the stark crimson streaks across Theana's face. I could taste metal and salt on my tongue, the acrid scent of iron heavy in the air of the makeshift sanctuary.

I raised a hand to my own cheek, fingers grazing over skin that no longer felt soft but rough, cracked in patterns like parched soil. My touch flinched back from the unfamiliar texture, the grim realization dawning that these fissures were formed by my blood.

The sharp intake of breath that escaped me turned Theana's scowl to a mask of worry. Her eyes, once hard as flint, softened at the edges with concern—a silent plea for silence in this treacherous expanse of woods. 

"Maude," she whispered, her voice barely carrying beyond the walls of our shelter but laced with urgency.

Her arms encircled me then, pulling me into an embrace that was both fortress and plea. I could feel her heart pounding against my ear, a drumbeat syncing with my own rapid pulse. My body, wracked with shivers from fear and cold, melded into the warmth of her.

Tears spilled over, hot trails cutting through the grime and dried blood on my cheeks. 

"Shh," Theana murmured, rocking us slightly. 

I clutched at her, the fabric of her once white night dress twisted in my desperate grip, as if holding on tighter could shield us from the terrors lurking just beyond our fragile sanctuary.

Theana's chest heaved against mine, a silent command that I needed to heed. 

"Breathe," It was not a suggestion; it was an order—one that I couldn't afford to ignore.

With every shuddering breath I took, my body trembled uncontrollably. 

"Deep breaths, Maude," she instructed again. Her hand, firm and unyielding, pressed against my back, guiding the rhythm of my lungs. I tried to mirror her composure, to draw air into my constricted chest and release it in measured beats, but sobs hitched my breathing, betraying my attempts at calm.

Theana held me tighter, her strength unwavering while mine faltered. Her resolve seeped into me, lending a semblance of stability to my quaking form. 

With a forceful tug, she drew me out of the sanctuary of her embrace, compelling my eyes to meet hers. 

"Maude," Theana said, her voice edged with steel. "They're still out there; every sound we make is a beacon for them."

Paranoia gnawed at the edges of my mind. My gaze darted from one dark corner to another. The shadows seemed to teem with unseen threats, and I pictured them.

"Look at me," she whispered, the command wrapped in an undercurrent of urgency.

Theana's hand was firm on my jaw, guiding my frantic gaze back to hers. Her eyes, usually as unyielding as the steel of a blade, now held a flicker of something softer, warmer. Feeling the grip of fear loosen ever so slightly. 

"Trust me," her eyes implored, and beneath the weight of her stare, I found the courage to nod.

Theana's thumb brushed against my cheek. It skimmed across my skin, catching the remnants of a tear that had managed to escape the floodgates of my terror. Her cloudy eyes bore into mine, for a few seconds, the outside fears subsided and my deep disdain for her had fled. 

"Sleep," she commanded, and her voice was as barren as the desolate woods surrounding us, stripped of warmth or reassurance. 

I could feel her hands on my shoulders attempting to guide me down to the dirt floor. Reluctance warred within me, a silent protest against the vulnerability sleep demanded, yet her insistence was a force I found myself unable to combat.

As Theana's grip loosened, a raw, unbidden sound tore from my throat, a cry that echoed the silent scream of my fraying nerves. 

She exhaled deeply, in one fluid motion, she surrendered to the inevitable, lowering her frame to the dirt floor.

There was no room for pride or pretence as I crumpled against her, my face finding sanctuary in the hollow beneath her collarbone.