The boy awoke. His eyes stung and watered as he forced the lids open. He blinked to clear his vision. His stomach roiled, and he drew a deep breath against the wave of nausea. He immediately wished he hadn’t. The air was thick and acrid in his lungs, and a sharp pain in his side lanced through him. The boy rolled onto his knees, coughing and retching until his throat felt raw.
Finally, he sat up. The world turned before his eyes.
“Ah!” he groaned, as his hand went to his head. A point behind his left ear throbbed painfully. He could feel a lump growing under his bruised skin. When he brought his hand back, red fluid stained his fingers. The world tilted again.
“You wake?” A rough voice demanded from close by.
Startled, the boy looked up. A large man was sitting upon a fallen tree, watching him. Hairy coverings swathed his bulky frame. A large skull dangled from one hand. The man’s pale features were pale and coarse, marred by several scars. His forehead was high and sloping, the nose broad and his lips wide. But the most striking feature was a mane of fiery red hair erupting from his scalp. A powerful emotion stirred within the boy’s heart as he met the glittering black eyes. Hate? Fear? Should he hate this man? He frowned. Who was this man? The first fluttering of unease curled through the boy’s stomach. Where was he?
“Where the woman who gave this?” the stranger interrupted his thoughts, as he thrust the long, thick spear that he held in his massive fist towards the boy. The boy took in the weapon dumbly. The wood was darkened with use and age, but at the top, deep carvings scored the surface just beneath the stone tip. Part way down the haft was a black ring of hardened material. The spear had once been broken, and the halves fused back together.
Nothing about it was familiar, and the boy shook his head, not knowing how to respond.
“Tell me!” The man shot to his feet with a speed that belied his bulk. Expression black with fury, he advanced on the boy, raising the butt of the spear high. “Tell me where!”
Terrified, the boy scrambled backwards. He raised his arms to shield his head, but even as he cowered down, a sudden wave of defiance arose from within. No. He pushed himself to his feet and met the stranger’s eyes squarely, as he raised his chin. He would not bow.
But his actions only maddened his attacker further. With a snarl, the big man brought the haft of the spear crashing down. The boy found he could only stand there, watching as the weapon raced towards his face. He could not have moved, even to save his life.
A voice called out, and the spear halted a mere hair’s breadth from his cheek. With a frustrated growl, the red-haired man turned to another of the strange men standing away in the trees. Smoke smouldered from the cracked and blistered bark.
Trembling, the boy sank to his knees again as his attacker moved away to speak with the one who had called for his attention. The world swam. He tried to clear his thoughts; tried to remember how he had got here while fighting the panic that was threatening to set in. The boy looked around. He was in a forest. Massive trees surrounded them, almost too large to be comprehended. Their branches twisted together in a way that was peculiar and yet oddly familiar. He felt the urge to climb into one of them, but could not understand why he should do that. The trunks of the trees were blackened and burned. Dead leaves rattled in the breeze. The sight brought with it an overwhelming wave of sadness… and emptiness. But more than anything else, the boy was aware of a pain in his chest. It was not the physical pain he felt. That would heal in time. This pain went deeper. He had lost something. Something important and its absence had left a hole in his heart. The space at his side yawned. He rubbed fretfully at his forehead.
The boy studied his body, desperate to find a clue, something to make him remember. He was dressed in woven green leaves and plant matter. The coverings felt tough and leathery and they fit too tightly, chaffing at his skin here and there. He shifted his attention to the men that surrounded him. They were all dressed in thick furs of varying shades of grey and black. A far cry from his own coverings.
A few of the men’s eyes followed him as he staggered to his feet and limped forward. The boy kept his eyes on them in return, unwilling to turn his back. But in watching them, he did not give enough attention to the ground beneath his unsteady feet, and he tripped on something heavy and soft. With a soft cry of alarm, he came down on top of the object, only just catching himself on his hands. His left arm almost gave out beneath his weight. The elbow was bruised.
The boy looked down and blank, dead eyes stared straight back up at him. “Agh!” The boy threw himself back and staggered away from the body. Nausea clawed up his throat. Doubling over, he began to wretch again. Low laughter broke out from his fur-clad audience at his expense.
Bracing his hands on his knees, the boy forced himself to look back at the corpse upon the ground. The light red-gold skin of the fallen man, dulled with the grey cast of death, hung upon his bones. His black hair thrown was out around him, an expression of horror twisted forever upon his frozen face. He would have been small. Clearly an adult, the man would still have only stood level with the boy’s ear. The blank eyes were large and his ears tapered to a subtle point. But what held the boy’s attention was the man’s attire. It matched his own. The boy quickly studied his own hands, and felt his ears, but his hopes of an answer were immediately dashed. His skin was a shade darker, the shape of his ears more rounded. He was not the same.
“Boy.” The gruff command came from behind him. He turned to see the red-haired giant approaching. That wave of intense dislike swept through the boy again. “Tell me where others went. I need know.”
Others? The boy glanced around. What others? His lack of an answer only aggravated the man. A large hand flashed out and caught him right across the mouth. The boy’s lip split as he went down in a heap. Hot tears of anger prickled in his eyes as he sat up and wiped at his bleeding mouth. He glared up at the large man who loomed over him, and forced his tears away. He would not give this beast the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
“Tell me where went!” the man demanded again, raising his hand once more.
“I don’t know!” the boy screamed back at him. “I don’t know. I don’t know!” He put his head in his hands and rocked back and forth. The pain in his skull throbbed. He felt his head would surely burst.
“Don’t know?” The beast’s voice lowered as he caught the boy’s chin in his gnarled hand, forcing his face up. “What you remember?”
The boy’s eyes flickered around again, trying to find something familiar, anything that would bring him comfort. His panic was rising again, threatening to choke him. The beast’s eyes were cutting, cruel, and without mercy.
“You no remember anything!” It was not a question. “What your name?”
And the boy couldn’t answer. He didn’t even know his own name. The panic overtook him and he broke into helpless sobs. “I don’t know.” His head throbbed. The world spun, fading around him once more as he collapsed onto his aching side. “I don’t know!”
