Page 1 of Finding Her
Nameless
“Come home.” The words echoed through my mind as I walked through the balmy, pouring rain. Steam rose from the crunching gravel under my bare feet, the soles of which stung from the sharp terrain.
Home. What was home?
I clenched my eyes closed and attempted to force information—any information—into my mind.Nothing.
When had I come to consciousness? I was completely naked in the wilderness with no memory of the preceding events. As I tried to mentally retrace the steps of how I got here, all I found was the same darkness and ache that swallowed me whole. Had I been walking for hours? Days? Months?
I trudged down a pitch-black road, the sky a deep purple of twinkling stars and swirling galaxies above me. The road was flanked by arching trees with large, glossy leaves that reflected what little light was available. A heavy drop of water plummeted from a branch above my head and splashed onto my brow, where it mixed into salty sweat. To say it was humid simply wouldn’t give enough credit to the sauna that I was submerged in.
“Come home,” I whispered, repeating the gentle and welcoming plea aloud to myself. I lifted a hand to my throat at the sound of it. My voice sounded slurred and grated, as if my vocal chords couldn’t remember how to produce language. I prayed this road would lead me home. Although I lacked any definitive details, I associated the concept with comfort. Safety.
Odd gurgles, growls, and whispering hisses echoed through the trees. I startled as branches rustled nearby, accompanied by whatsoundedlike words. They were snarled out by a scratched, nasally voice that was hardly human. A swarm of red eyes observed my struggle from a looming mass of dense brush. Hyperaware of the lancing cuts in my feet, I worried the darkness concealed my view of a blood trail left behind me—a potential dinner bell for the monsters lurking in the inky blackness.
Surely, I had found hell. The more I progressed towards a refuge I wasn’t sure existed, the more my body suffered. I inhaled deeply before every step, attempting to rally my strength, only to stumble with nothing to catch myself on.
Just keep going. My exhausted knees began to buckle under my weight. I gritted my teeth and hissed at myself to continue or be the next meal of whatever howled nearby. The faint lines of the road began to blotch and curve unnaturally. My vision was fading, distorting, failing.
Just one… two… three more steps…
My eyes cracked open as I suddenly had the sensation of floating. No, not floating, but being carried. Between my nearly shuttered eyelids, I saw a shadowed face above me that stared ahead. My vision was too hazy to make out any distinctive features. I knew I should feel afraid that something had caught my unconscious form, but I experienced nothing other than acceptance at my impending demise. I only hoped I wouldn’tbe awake for what came next. I let my eyes close again, and a warm light shone faintly through their lids as I went back to nothingness.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” a deep voice rasped softly. It sounded miles away and rang in my skull without meaning. I gave in to the exhaustion, and my aching body pulled me to a dark and terrified sleep.
Nameless
Jolted awake by a large thump, I shot up from where I had been reclined on satin pillows, finding myself enclosed in a small room with vertical wooden panels and matching floorboards. My shoulders swayed ever so slightly in rhythm with what sounded like beating hooves. A luxurious gray blanket draped over my nude body, unsuccessfully hiding a slew of fresh injuries marring my flesh. I grasped the covering’s edges into a knot against my throat to further cover myself. It smelled ashy and burnt, like a fresh campfire.
I was seated on a cushioned bench of striking scarlet, laced with golden trim and decorative tassels which swung subtly as the room seemed to move. Across from me was an identical seating fixture built into the wall, with closed shutters blending into the paneling above the middle cushion. The closed window would have been easily hidden, had the presence of golden hinges and sheer curtains not drawn attention to its presence. I reached my hand over my shoulder to find identical chiffon brushing against my skin.
Having now identified my seating nook’s matching window, I rotated my hips and pulled my knees underneath myself to investigate what was outside of the small box I foundmyself in. I fumbled with the stubborn hook closure, finding it repeatedly slipping from my fingers with the rattling of the room. As I finally started to make progress on my grip, another thump ripped the dainty latch from my hands and sent me lunging forward. Disgruntled, I steadied myself with one palm on my knee and took a second shot at investigating. Finally unclasping the lock, I pulled the shutters open, not knowing what would greet me on the other side.
The world was brighter now, blindingly so. The sky had become periwinkle, adorned by a milky white smear of clouds. A vast field filled with rows of strange crops seemed to race by. The view reminded me of pumpkin patches—that is, if pumpkins were covered in blue-green kernels. The farmland stretched as far as my eye could see over gentle hills. A faint tinge of green combined with the purple cast of the sky, tinting the scenery cool-toned.
I jumped in my seat at the sound of creaking hinges, and my head snapped away from the landscape towards a large figure that had just ducked through the low threshold. Bright daylight spilled over its outline, shadowing its features until the door closed us in together, revealing a man hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. He stood, staring at me, hand frozen on the door he’d just pulled closed behind him.
His hair was dark and slick with grease, falling just below his stubbled jaw. His irises were a soft steel gray, contrasting their red and irritated whites, with dark purple bags under his smoky lower lashes. His chest was rather broad and pulled his filthy, white button-down shirt taut from shoulder to shoulder. Mud splattered up his ankles, ruining his nice dress shoes and trousers. Although not menacing or obviously unstable, I couldn’t help but feel something was very off as he stared blankly down at me.
“Hi, Faeryn,” he said, with a level of neutrality that I found unhelpful in assessing if he was a threat.
“Faeryn?”
“Right.” He sat down on the bench across from me and rested his elbows on his knees. His face was unreadable. I suspected the evenness of his expression and tone was forced, evidenced by the muscle running down his thick neck twitching in what I perceived as agitation.
“Who isFaeryn?” I asked, pulling the blanket further up my neck. My stomach dropped with the reminder that this piece of smoky-smelling fabric was the only thing separating my nude body from his vision. Naked. In a small room with a strange man who was closer to the exit than I was. It felt as dangerous as being devoured in the woods had.
“You are,” he said simply. There was a pause as though he expected a response. I offered him none. “It’s your name.”
“Do I know you?” The words weren’t meant to come out aggressively, but as they left my mouth, I heard the way I sounded like cornered prey, growling out a pathetic attempt at a threat.
There was a long silence. “No,” he answered flatly. “I’m afraid you do not.” His smooth prose was as gentlemanly as the potential of his stained attire. He stood just enough to hold out his hand to me. “My name is Graysen.”
A handshake? Given our circumstances, that felt unnaturally formal. However, I was at his mercy, and it didn’t seem wise to refute any attempts at civility. My hand grasped his with caution. Warm softness swallowed my significantly smaller grip.
“If you don’t know me, why did you just call me Faeryn?”
Not only did I feel like a scared animal, but he had immediately assigned me a name. And since when was it okay to pick up a woman from the road and act like it was normal? Concepts of puppy rescues flashed through my mind and I thanked my lucky stars I was at least not in acardboardbox. The box I was currently in seemed to be made of real wood. The entire situation was dehumanizing, at best.
