After the Fall - Roai Kingsley
He isn’t sure how long he’s been out, but when he finally comes to, a few things become abundantly clear.
First, He’s on his back, scarcely cushioned from rocky dirt by short grasses and shrubs. Above him–as much as he can tell through double images–hangs a patch of stars in the sky, framed by a canopy of leaves on thick branches. After a moment, it occurs to him that he’s supposed to be up there, and not down on the forest floor. But when he tries to muster up the will to move, something else is made apparent.
White-hot pain shoots through his head the moment he tries to roll it to the side. He notices then that it is supported on a root. His ears ring with an unpleasant melody, and spots of darkness well up in his vision. He tries to push up to a sitting position with his hands, but what little strength he normally has seems to have left him entirely, and all he manages to accomplish is clenching fistfuls of dirt. His legs similarly refuse to budge, rendering him entirely immoble. The heavy fog that sits over his mind begins to clear, making way for his rising confusion and panic. His heart beats a little faster as his mind works double time to try to call on his memories, but even thinking seemed to worsen the painful throb in his head.
He forces chest to rise and fall in a more controlled fashion. Even through the haze, he could recall the advice his elders often gave him: not to let his fear get the better of him. He needs to be rational, or else he’d worsen his predicament. He just needs a moment to gather his bearings before trying to move like he had before. It was his only option, really. Gritting his teeth, he tries to keep his nerves in check, letting his body rest. It’s hard to tell how long he lies there, but it’s well before night has the chance to slip into dawn. He periodically tests the strength in his arms during his rest, until finally, he has gathered enough strength to lift his hand and inspect himself.
He slides his fingers beneath his aching head, prodding it carefully. Strangely enough, the pain seems to have subsided somewhat. That, or he simply got used to it after remaining like this so long. Regardless, his poking doesn’t incite much further discomfort. He discovers what he believes to be the source of the pain: a particularly jagged knob on the root supporting him, pressing into the base of his skull. This, along with a wet and sticky substance caking his hair, are what his fingers find. He’s a bit confused at first, believing it to be tree sap, perhaps an inconvenient patch of mud. He pulls his fingers from his head, raising them for a closer look, only for the sight of it to make his stomach twist in a knot.
They were coated in thick, red blood.
His breath quickens alongside his pulse, his composure fully crumbling. He can’t control his panic anymore at the sight, the reality of his predicament made blatantly clear to him. He tries to call for help, mouthing names as he pushes air from his lungs, but he’s not even sure if he’s making a sound with the ringing in his ears and the weakness still sapping him of strength. He can’t even remember if he was here alone or with someone; for all he knows, he could’ve been stupid enough to come here alone, climb a tree, and plummet to near death. His eyes screw shut, the corners of them welling with tears as he continues his efforts for as long as he can. When he finally begins to believe it is all in vein, he feels the ground beneath him vibrate.
His eyes shoot open, his head still too stuck to turn, and finds that above him is knelt a woman. Stocky and large, she reaches her rough hands towards his face, her lips moving but no words registering in his ears. He tries to speak back, to tell her he can’t hear, but he feels his throat clench with a silent sob. Her mouth snaps shut, her brow setting with resolution. She slips off one of the pelts draped over her back, scoops him up into her arms, and applies a firm pressure to the wound in the back of his skull. She cradles him carefully, carrying him to safety, and all the while, he clings to her like a child would their own mother.