Page 3 of Finding Her
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to my feet with a wince. I was wobbly when I first stood, but with food, water, and clothing in mind, I summoned all the vigor I had left. I stepped to the edge of the wooden platform into a world much strangerthan I had anticipated, clinging to the fabric around me as if it were my only defense against the looming unknown.
“Holy shit,” I breathed as my eyes darted across the scene that lay before me. I ignored the hand Graysen offered to help me step down, and hopped into the dirt for a better view of my new surroundings.
I saw a small town sprawled out in front of me. The lilac-absinth wash of color painted shadows and highlights onto the rooftops and faces of the people—creatures, really—that milled around. Some looked like slight deviations from myself and Graysen; many looked like… monsters.
Not five meters ahead of me stood a man whose skin appeared to have a radioactive green tattoo decorating him in intricately twisted designs. The markings bubbled up his neck like a lava lamp. There were reptile-like ear holes on either side of his shaved head, and as he moistened his lips, I noticed his tongue was black.
Further away, a man with fingers that, rather than being fleshy and jointed, were like the talons of a predatory bird. Or a dragon. Maybe a dinosaur? His smile revealed sharp, disorganized teeth. Their points matched the assortment of horns and spikes on his temples and the back of his neck. His entire being was one piercing weapon. My instincts screamed at me that these were predators; these traits didn’t evolve without strong evolutionary incentive.
The dragon-man spoke with a woman covered in scales with pointed ears. Her nose lifted at the tip, under which full black lips twisted into an irritated grimace. The coloring of her body was a muted blue, like an exotic humanoid lizard. When she spoke back to him, seemingly perturbed, her lip lifted to reveal a row of sharp teeth, not unlike a shark.
The entire situation was disorienting. I was hardly aware of my own existence, much less where I was standing. I took a step back as if to retreat from the oddity of it all. In a state of heightened nerves, my body jolted when I bumped into something. A loud snort, as if from a horse, responded to my clumsiness. My head snapped around foolishly expecting exactly that, ahorse, instead finding something that looked like a large, bony, hoofed greyhound. And I was all but leaning on it. I startled forward to create some distance between myself and the creature.
The not-horse had narrow eyes, small triangular ears, and a long snout. Its skin was a translucent ivory, I could see the dark bones faintly visible underneath where they pressed against the thinner areas of flesh. The creature stomped its hoof into the dusty ground with enough force to send a tremor into my feet, straining its neck against the carriage fastenings to sniff me.
“You can pet her, she won’t bite.” Graysen’s head tilted to the side with a strand of grungy hair falling into his pleasantly expectant expression.
Hesitant, but intrigued, I reached out a hand to stroke the creature’s cheek. Its skin felt like rough leather that smoothed out closer to its ears. It neighed somewhat like a horse might, only with an ear-piercing screech to end the vocalization. Despite the startling nature of the cry, the way the creature flopped its head back and forth made me think it enjoyed the scritches.
“What’s its… her name?” I asked, staring into the beast’s ghostly white eye, mismatched from the other, which was entirely black.
“That’s Venus.” He ran his hand down her back. “Next to her is her sister Violet; who can be a bit moody after long trips.” He examined my astonishment. “They’re called Silvates, andthey make wonderful pets. They don’t need to eat or drink, and can work hours on end without tiring.”
“How do they do that?” I asked, my brows crinkling with curiosity as I observed the animal. They weren’t as frightening as the other creatures in the area, despite their odd features. Venus and Violet didn’t have claws, noticeable fangs, nor any other predatory features. Were they odd? Absolutely. But somehow just as non-threatening as your standard-issue pony.
“They aren’t technically alive. They die at birth and become this,” he offered as an explanation, stroking the “moody” one—Violet. She leaned into his large hand affectionately.
“Oh my god.” I stared in horror and awe at what he was explaining to be essentially an animated-deceased-dog-horse. I knew I shouldn’t be expecting earthly standards here, but hadn’t foreseen the undead being so quickly introduced.
The hand that had been carefully holding the blanket around me unclenched in surprise. Somehow, in the throes of curiosity, I had become distracted from my more pressing needs, like clothing. I quickly brought my other hand up to clutch the fabric to my chest, humiliation flushing my cheeks.
A gentle smile dimpled Graysen’s cheeks. “Come on. Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up, then you can ask me questions until your little heart gives out.”
A tiled pathway led to the red front door of the small brick house. The building itself looked neglected. Vines with strange, three-sided red flowers grew over the front and blocked the only two visible windows. Stepping inside, I was greeted by the smell of campfire smoke—more potent than what infused the blanket around me—and a warm, yellow light that washed away the cool tones of the outside world. To my right was a chestnut-stained wooden staircase. To my left was a closed door. The shorthallway I stood in opened into a larger space ahead, seemingly branching off in both directions.
“This is home.” Graysen inhaled deeply. When his shoulders dropped, I realized how tense they must have been for the brief duration of our time together. “Would you like to start with food, or a bath?” He kicked off his shoes by the door to reveal standard male feet. Large feet, but human feet. What a relief. I wasn’t sure my mind could handle more anatomical surprises in that moment.
“I don’t know.” I hoped this world had food my human stomach could tolerate. Lurching with a growl that erupted at the merethoughtof eating, I figured better to poison myself at this rate than waste away.
“How about this—you wash up and I’ll make you my best dish. You’ll love it. I promise.” A new energy had overtaken his attitude, he seemed disturbingly happy considering my situation. I felt like an injured dog he’d found on the road and was adopting. The way his mood had shifted from sad pity, to nurturing, to excited, was mildly insulting. There was nothing for me to be happy about, and his moods were giving me whiplash.
Graysen led me up the staircase. “It’s the first door on the left. I’ll be right there with some clothing.” He turned and walked toward the other end of the hallway.
Disoriented and feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience, I stepped into the bathroom. Switching on the light revealed a large, ivory, claw-foot tub and a toilet to match. Tall wooden cabinets were situated in the left corner. Immediately to my right was a small, dark sink with a mirror.
I realized that I didn’t know who to expect stepping into the mirror's frame. Surely my reflection would look squalid, if not entirely gored—if the injuries peeking out from under theblanket were any foreshadowing. But I didn’t know what eyes would greet me, nor the nose, chin, or any other discernible qualities to tie a sense of identity to. I knew that my skin was currently a sickly olive color and my hair was a warm blonde simply by looking down, but these weren’t features that made me unique from others. They didn’t provide me a sense of self—a self I desperately wanted to meet.
I drew in a deep breath, hoping and praying that upon seeing my own face, I would know who I was and everything would make sense again. I begged to whoever might hear my mental pleas that this would unlock all of the needed answers.It has to. With a heavy exhale, a racing heart, and a single step, I placed myself before the mirror.
Who I saw in the mirror was as unfamiliar to me as Graysen. There I stood with long, knotted, straw-like hair that fell past my breasts. My face was the same olive shade as my arms and hands, but splatters of dirt and blood made me uncertain if I had beauty marks or blushed cheeks. While not quite thin, I looked malnourished and tired. The white stretch marks on my arms and upper chest had the appearance of significant weight gain or loss. Given my moderate size, I had to assume it was the latter. The only lifelike attribute I could see was my green eyes, which, despite it all, were shining with vitality.
“Is everything all right?” Graysen asked as he stepped through the open doorway and saw me staring at my reflection.
“I didn’t know what I looked like,” I admitted solemnly. My voice was barely a whisper, afraid such a confession would solidify my sense of loss.
His brows lowered in apparent sympathy. Staring at my reflection with me, a soft, hesitant smile creased his eyes. “Well, right now you look much dirtier than you will after bathing.” Hehanded me a towel and some folded clothing. “Food should also help. I’ll start dinner. Come down when you’re ready.” He began to exit the room, pausing to look at me over his shoulder one last time before leaving.
With the door closed and locked, I dropped the blanket that had been covering me and eagerly turned on the water to fill the tub. The clothing he provided included a black button-down similar to his own—in fact, it was likely to be his—and a pair of sweatpants that would be far too long.
