Part 4
The Song
As the darkness consumed, Milly felt something in the jet black warmth beneath. There was a dream down there, breathing the same air as she, speaking words with a voice that had uttered ten lifetimes of breaths, now reawaking after a long, cold nap.
Deep within the confines of a prison that felt eternal, the something sniffed the air and found itself aroused, not knowing why exactly, just knowing something had changed, feeling curious for the first time in ages. With a yawn it lumbered and expanded, pressing its legs on the sides of some nameless expanse while moving its bulbous head, listening for sounds as it arched its gargantuan body, trying to pick up telltale traces of what had called it from the nothing.
Human. Frail. Familiar. Delicate.
She could hear it speaking in some singsong combination of words and unwording.
A little girl out there just beyond its reach, sweating because of some endeavor just outside its lair. Her scent was an intoxicant to the thing and it wanted, needed, to touch the world outside of the jail it had been placed in by mishap, so long ago. Touch the world again.
Eyes pried themselves open and squinting ensued, as Milly found herself very much alive but dizzy, on the ground, reeling, head pounding from a pain that ate away at her sensibilities. She could taste dirt in her mouth and, for a second, thought she was blind, but it was the extreme close-up of the ground calling and not sensory failure.
Moaning inexplicably, Milly moved from a prone position to a seated one, trying her best to surmise what had transpired. Everything within her wanted to cry and flee, clumps of needles stabbing with white-hot sensations, hands touching the top of her scalp, finding a wet clump and something she immediately knew as pain. Red oozed, permeating two fingers, stealing handfuls of breath as she attempted to gain her bearings, the heartbeat inside her chest the hammering of tiny feet. She checked her legs, noticing scraped knees that bled but that did not seem damaged, and went to stand but found, to her continuing horror, that she could not.
The banging inside simply would not allow it.
Milly looked around in a haze, wanting to crawl but finding herself unable, fear giving way to despair as she decided to stay, restrained by her body, hoping to collect her thoughts in the process.
Time became meaningless as Milly felt herself drifting, awash between seams stitched with grimaces and blank stares. Shock warmed the body as teeth chattered and quaked, calm drifting in and then dispersing, Milly consorting with the ground before finding the strength to come up with a plan.
She first thought she might be able to garner attention with a fire, thinking someone might see her, but the land was unsuitable and she'd never be able to control it. Were she to black out again, the fire might rage and consume, rage and consume, desperation becoming kindling in the center of an inferno. There had to be something else.
Moving her bag closer, Milly dumped the contents on the ground, looking for a way to make contact. She fished through items and made a face, pain leaking through parted lips, hoping for - anything. She recalled having a phone but left it behind, and even owned an emergency flare but never packed the thing.
Her only hope seemed to be the one person that would not come looking.
Petey.
Petey told her plainly that he would not traverse this place again, and though she did not blame him, neither did she appreciate him leaving her here, abandoned by default. All he had to do was come along, staying off the slopes while walking cautiously, and he would have been fine. It hurt, cutting deeply.
Tears streaming, Milly looked at her belongings, thinking how she at least found herself with water and a sandwich. Sure, she was seated in a place she could not retreat from, high above a crack in the ground that descended into a groaning expanse, and sure she had forgotten the supplies that might have allowed her some reprieve from the pain settling on her like a glove. At least she had made herself a great sandwich on sour dough, and had packed a juice box and water.
As she ate, tiny bits and pieces flecked here and there, whole crusts and slivers of meat sometimes falling this way and that as each bite excruciatingly echoed throughout her jaw and forehead. All she could do is take it, watching those flecks descend toward the ground, sometimes slipping into the chasm like little silhouettes, dropping inches before vanishing in the pitch. At first Milly thought nothing of it, the pain would not let her, but soon she found herself uncomfortably looking down as something echoed underneath.
She could not vanquish the thought that said there were lapping sounds mingling with shuffling, all dancing underfoot.
Milly had trouble listening above her own inward prayers, and wondered if it was her mind playing tricks, attempting to cope with the situation at hand. Silently she cursed, wishing she had been more careful, thinking how she should have not fallen and should not have received wounds.
How could one place be so evil?
She allowed herself to hope a little, wishing she could somehow - be healed? That was it, wasn't it; she wasn't bothered by the place or the tremors or even the sounds plaguing her. It was the fact that she could not move eating her alive.
It was in that moment that Milly found out a secret about this place, meeting the fairies and the beasts that scurry into unknown spaces below our footsteps, noting how many things existed, including, perhaps, magic. Perhaps she did not see it, not making eye contact, but she felt something, its mind reaching out as the headache dissipated, the blood careening down her face drying on her forehead, suddenly gone.
Dumbstruck, Milly did not know what to do, how to react, what to think as the pain began drifting away.
"Thank you."
Those were the only words that came to mind.