Chapter I -- Raking the Leaves
They were frigid, withered, but remained ever so amber. Accompanied by their fallen siblings were knives upright, piercing the numbing air. Together they ornamented the fjord in emeralds and ambers, colours faded by frost.
Crack.
Blue -- blue washed in with clouds and fragmented was all he saw, that is, for only a moment.
One...
Moments faded into the great next, and his vision was realised; with it followed sound.
Two...
Though, without the whisper of wind it would be as though it never came till late.
Three...
The boy had been leaning over a shrub which strained to hold his body upon coming to. Drawing his left arm behind him, his forearm met earth, and pushing his chest forward, his head rose.
Seven...
This was only for his eyes to lock with hers, and only now was he acutely aware of the sensations of this environment he had been previously unacquainted with.
Eight.
The girl hadn't moved, as though she was frozen over like the trees huddled around them. But, betraying the stillness of her body, her eyes were exhaustively surveying him. Her gaze was no less sharp than the abundance of glacial grass engulfing the downslope that shot down to the floor of the valley. She saw him, and he saw her, and she loved the fact.
"It's autumn,"
she spoke, grasping firmly a pocket of the tree she had been standing against.
Her entranced expression didn't coordinate with her emotionless tone. Stepping back, she felt as though she should have started with something else. Moments flew by and the boy hadn't responded, instead taking to scanning his surroundings, finding that he did not recognise the landscape. To his right was an almost completely vertical drop into the lake of the fjord, the salty water glaring back at him, though he continued to feel blank -- nothing bar the instinct telling him something was wrong, though he himself wasn't worried.
Fingers wrapped around his jaw and gently guided his face to her chest, the weight of her body now pressing down on his hips. The boy looked up to greet her stare. Her warmth and her gaze wrapped around him even if her arms hadn't yet.
What a smile she had.
If they hadn't been in such close proximity to one another, he may not have noticed when her smile began to fall, for just as suddenly as she had straddled him, she recoiled, picking herself up to turn away and sprint away from him.
Lagging behind but approaching all the same, his reason caught him, and the boy called out,
"wait!"
She twitched at his call.
"I'm injured!"
he continued,
"I think I need help!"
Had he been? He wasn't made aware of any fatal wound he wore, yet he was compelled to say otherwise. Unknowing as to why he claimed as such, he paused.
She spared a glance back towards him, her expression wearing indecision.
As the boy stood from his bed of brush, he felt its grip rebel, tearing what it could from him. Painting him aware of his situation, he then realised he wasn't dressed with anything but his confusion. Though, he didn't care for that -- his sight was set on the girl, who was then headed to the valley's floor from him.
Running, he failed to understand why he so desperately wanted to reach her; he didn't know what he wanted to do if he caught her. The girl slowed her pace almost down to a halt, allowing him to catch up to her. Upon reaching her, he lunged forward, grasping the collar of her sweater and bringing her down with him onto the ground.
The girl gasped violently as she struck the ground on her back as he subsequently pinned her beneath him. Panting, they kept still as they waited for their breath to find them. They found themselves wrapped around each other, fastening their grips as they waited for the other to commit to an action first. She inspected his body further to reveal several only partially healed gashes on his shoulders, to which she softly brushed over with her hand.
"Right,"
she murmured,
"okay..."
She continued,
"I'll help you."
Sitting up, she met none of the resistance the boy had offered her just seconds prior. Instead, he relieved her of his grip and leaned backwards over the grass. The boy once again observed his surroundings, having changed. They had been laid atop the valley's pasture, an area overlooking the valley floor which steered into a fjord. Where they had come from was the edge of the pasture, overlooking the fjord's lake. Having been given enough time, the girl collected herself and stood up.
"You can stay with us,"
the girl said. Pausing for a moment, she added,
"if you want."
The boy felt relieved, however felt he wanted to say more, as though to introduce himself but found he couldn't -- he couldn't recall anything of himself at all.
"Thanks,"
he offered instead.
As the girl began to turn around, he raised his voice to utter,
"Name."
Realising what had come out was broken, he expanded on his request hastily,
"Sorry -- what's your name?"
The girl's expression lightened and she smiled again, before stating her name was Emilie.
"But you can call me Emmy,"
she said.
"What a smile you have, Emmy,"
he thought to himself.
As she stood there, the boy felt she was waiting for a response but soon realised he couldn't return the favour. The two of them motionless, her animated smile faded. He could only offer another apology.
Giving a weaker smile, she affirmed
"Follow."
***
Hours had dissipated as he awoke with a fever. His eyes adjusted to find that he was in a dimly lit room -- the girl wasn't present. He shot his hand to his head and pulled his legs from beneath him to hang over the bedside, noticing that his head and body had been hospitably wrapped in cotton bandages.