Something held me for sure. Hands. Yes. I felt hands, fingers, cold, slim, holding tight to one arm, though not tight enough to hurt, just to cradle and hold stable, safe. I liked the word and took a momentary comfort in it. The other set of frozen, ice-like fingers were on my hip. Even through my pants, a thin silky material, I could feel the extreme chill of them. It made no sense that a human would be so cold, especially not moving so fast in this sun. It wasn’t a summer day, but a beautiful spring one full of sunshine. As such, it had held such promise just hours ago. I begged whoever could hear my mind, despite the futility of it, to let this ice monster be a savior, meant to take me to the Royal island, to lay me down to heal by my love who an ice monster had also saved.
I even let myself imagine it for a time, healing in a luxurious bed, the best of everything offered to us, the hours of endless conversations or holding each other gently as we healed by some magic faster than we should. The image of this brought me comfort. I needed something to hold onto. Sometimes hope is all we have, and I latched onto it in order to continue breathing. Otherwise, in times when reality sunk in, of me being taken by something unknown and undefeatable, of my Lex using his last ounces of life to fight for me, my heart threatened to cease beating.
I wondered how I could have fallen so head over heels for a virtual stranger in such a short time, so much so that mere thoughts of being without him threatened to end my own life, to make my own vitality unwilling to continue on. With that winner of a thought, I had to wonder whether, if I survived this, I’d be worth anything at all save for a strait jacket.
In order to catch a real breath at this speed, I instinctively rolled my face into the cold chest, I guessed, of the thing that had me. I took a little comfort in the show of survival instincts, still. Though, I floated, coasted, body, mind, and soul, for a time. I may have whimpered, or what had me did. Either way, the noise of it shocked me.
“You have been badly injured,” the voice at my ear whistled, a female tone with a low timbre, gentle and kind.
I let the words sink in as best they could. At least they made sense. The voice had a soothing effect, my heart rate calming as if forced, confusing me if I thought on it too long, the fact that it seemed to disobey how I felt it should go, expecting it to continue to thump in my chest until it gave out. While this strange fact alarmed me, my breathing slowed, as well. I’d lost all control, of either my thinking or my body. I suddenly found even fear in the face of these odd, extraordinary circumstances hard to grasp.
“I’m here to help, not to cause you further harm, my dear. Please, understand that,” the voice of this self-spoken savior claimed. “Take the peace I offer you, my child. Don’t fight the gifts I have to offer to you.”
The phrasings of the words, let alone the sentiments they carried, seemed off. In a moment of clarity, I rolled my head to the sound of the voice. The face of an angel or something that I’d somehow expected to see didn’t greet me, though. There was no shimmering blond hair, angelic blue eyes, or even wings fluttering that would have maybe explained the speeds we were moving at. I guessed only a belief in Heaven, though most of my life that had been a shaky endeavor, could have explained away all that seemed to be happening with this self-proclaimed Good Samaritan.
An angelic being of some sort was the only way for my mind to go. I had a wolf protector, one born of magic, so could a guardian angel be so hard to believe? The fact that my pain was somehow lessoning, my mind made these grasps at some sort of truth of this situation possible. Yet, no gossamer sheen or halo existed around the face I saw. Instead, the slim face of an ordinary brown haired, brown eyed woman came into focus with the blue sky and clouds moving at unthinkable speeds over our heads. There was no aura of any kind to be seen. I blinked my eyes hard, thinking it a ruse, as a woman with this slim, plain face could neither hold my full figured weight, nor move at this extreme clip, even without holding a generously sized woman.
It all made such little sense, less so as my thinking cleared, that I forced myself to go through the facts as I saw them again, thinking I was missing something vital here. I went through it again. This fierce, yet attractive in her own way, woman who, from what I could see of her from the neck up, seemed to have a slim neck and face, and yet held me like I weighed nothing, and moved us faster than I could comprehend. Yes, I wasn’t wrong there. Feeling suddenly unsteady the more things grew clearer, oddly enough, I rolled toward the woman, wiggling my fingers to grab onto something. I watched my bloody hand barely grip onto her shirt.