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That brings you to the present. You have no idea where or when you are, all you know is that you're slowly, painfully regaining consciousness. The tattered, grungy rags that you wear are completely soaked through and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the cry of seagulls. Beneath you, you can feel... sand? You're no longer in a forest, you're on a beach somewhere.
You try to open your eyes and immediately regret it. Though the sun is still rising in the east, the sky is so bright that you would rather just squeeze your eyes shut again. Your head is pounding as though you're recovering from the worst hangover in the world and to be quite honest, you wish you could just lie there forever.
“Oi. You alright, my love?”
Reluctantly, you open your eyes again. This time you spot it, the silhouette of a woman looming over you. The more you stare, the more she comes into focus and the clearer her features become. Dark eyes, brown hair, great big hoops dangling from her pointy ears. That's the part that alarms you – since when did people have ears that were so long and pointed? Ears are supposed to be small and round. Despite the condition you're in, she seems more curious about you than worried.
“Bleddy hell, just look at you. You look like a dog's arse what's been stung by a swarm o' bees.” That coarse, grating accent of hers is completely at odds with her elfin appearance. “Oi, can you hear me? You better not have bumped your bleddy head, I don't have the patience to be dealin' with a spastic today.”
The sensible thing to do would be to ask her where you are and who she is, but after everything you've been through, you're certainly not thinking clearly.
>She's not human – what is she, some sort of minion of the Crone? Scramble to your feet, get away from her and express your defiance. You won't let her take you back. You're never going back, no matter what.
>You've just escaping from a living nightmare and every part of your body aches. You can't bothered with her banter, not right now. Flip this pointy-earred stranger the bird and tell her to fuck off.
>Honestly, you don't even care about her or the pain that shoots through your body and soul. You're free. You're free! Free to laugh and cry and scream your jubilation at the rising sun. You should celebrate!
