Back to the Plains

Part 3: The Awakening

"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it."

-J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

By the time Ali awakens again, she finds the sun illuminating the sides of a tent. No, not a tent, she realizes. Observing how the sticks holding the tent up gathered in one place at the top she knows she is in one of the teepees she saw days before. She is sore, much worse than she was before, but she doesn't feel the throbbing aches, rather unused muscles for a long time. Her sight is clear again, and sharper than before, as she takes in her surroundings. To her, it looks like something out of a museum, a replica of what a teepee should look like on the inside. It even smells like a museum. She has to give credit to these actors, they know details. Below her fingers, Ali can feel the softness, much better than the rock they put her on before, but as her fingers move across the fluff she gives a mental groan. Oh no. It is not a blanket like she hoped. Poor bison. Still, it is soft and warm, and nothing can be done about the creature now.

"Good." Ali jumps at the voice but recognizes it as the American she heard before. She turns her head slightly, seeing him standing in the opening. "You are awake." He moves towards her and she tries to sit up. "You shouldn't..." He starts, but she is already up, feet coming to a stop and brushing across another fur rug. She grips the ends of the cot, trying to figure out if she is dizzy or going to be sick, but after a moment she realizes that neither is affecting her. She focuses on breathing and finds her ribs don't even throb like they used to. Ali looks up, realizing the man is sitting on a stool close to her, but still a little over an arm's length away. "Are you feeling better?"

Ali manages a small nod, but her eyes never leave his blue-grey eyes. "Surprisingly yes." She manages to say. "Who are you?" She looks away from him long enough to see that she is wearing a sort of cloth dress, long, loose, and brown. They had taken her dress off. Ali suddenly feels very shy, but shakes it off, hoping that it hadn't been any man to have done it.

The English speaking man has fair skin and fine features, she notes. A looker if a person is looking. His hair is a fair blonde and left long enough to see the small curl that would be prominent if it were longer. His chin holds stubble and his teeth show white in his smile. His brows perch just above his kind eyes and his ears stick out just a little. "I am Lieutenant Grove, Miss, but you may call me Josiah."

"Very well, Josiah." Ali offers her hand for him to shake. "Alison Bradley." As she says her name, he takes her hand. She expects him to shake it, but he kisses it instead. She can feel her cheeks flame red, and she looks down at her free hand now sitting in her lap. "Ali." She stutters as she pulls her hand back. "Everyone just calls me Ali."

"Ali." He echoes, and she chances a glance at him. He smiles at her, and she looks away again. "I must say, Ali, your injuries..." She watches at him again to see him shake his head, trying to find the right words. "They are quite extensive."

"Yes, well..." Ali is about to explain, but she thinks better of it. "Your friends didn't help my injuries any." Her voice reveals the bitter resentment, and she remembers the feeling of hands gripping her arms and her waist, and the scraps she got in the process. Looking at her cut on her forearm, she sees that someone has fixed the broken stitch.

"I heard you put up quite a fight." He seems amused by the stories he has been told, and she realizes that he has decided not to press her for answers about her injuries. "This is justifiable, of course. It must have been a shock."

That is the understatement of the year. "Let's just say this is the weirdest reenactment I have ever seen." Ali gives a half-laugh but finds only questions in the eyes of the Lieutenant. "Never mind." If they did not break character before, they will not do so now.