Chapter Text
I’m laying on the ground with my face in the dirt and my left leg falling asleep. I groan at the pins and needles and open my eyes—only to be assaulted by a bright light that sends a surge of pain shooting to my pounding head. I instantly screw my eyes shut and just lay there until I can’t take the smell of decaying leaves anymore. Gingerly I push myself up and away from the earth and sit back, relishing the returning flow of blood to my foot. I squint as my eyes adjust to the light and press two fingers to my temple in an attempt to lessen the pain in my head.
Tall slender trees with high green canopies tower above me, dappling the ground with pools of golden light. There is very little underbrush around me besides the occasional clump of thicket. In the small crevices around the trees’ roots moss and tiny mushrooms grow. I hear a bird singing in the distance.
I can’t remember why I’m in a forest.
I try and push past the red-hot pain in my brain, reaching out for any sort of faint memory of why I might be here, but I come back empty. It’s a frustrating feeling, and I wipe the dirt off my face in disgust. “I can’t believe this.”
The sound of my voice startles me as I pause in the middle of trying to stand. It sounds unfamiliar, and I repeat the words slower to confirm they're coming from my mouth. “I…can’t…believe…this.” My throat is parched and my voice cracks as I hold each syllable. I wince and stagger to my feet, stumbling a little as I regain feeling in my left leg.
Once I’m feeling steady enough, I slowly turn in a circle, getting a full view of the woods around me. As I turn a faint breeze blows past and throws a lock of hair in my face. It’s inky black and I jolt as it flutters against my check. My hair is black? I grab the hair and hold it out so I can see. It’s as dark as the night sky with a streak of turquoise racing through it. I frown. Why is my hair like that?
I close my eyes and concentrate, trying to remember something, anything. I search around in my memories for the earliest thing I can recall, and I let out a dejected sigh when I can’t remember past waking up on the forest floor. I even try remembering my name or my age, but nothing comes to me. The mental workout causes my head to riverbeat with a deafening pounding and I sink back down to the ground in defeat. I can’t remember a single thing.
I look down and study myself; I’m wearing a loose blue tunic over a white undershirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows. Dark is packed tight under my fingernails and cuts and scratches lace across the tops of my hands and up my forearms. My boots are a size too big and caked with mud. A belt is looped around my waist and holds two vials of strangely colored liquid and keeps a thick book strapped to my side. I remove the book from its holster and inspect the cover curiously. The words ‘Ulla’s Journal’ is written in loopy handwriting across the surface. I start to open it to inspect its contents when a fierce chattering behind me sends me jumping out of my skin.
“What the hell—?!” I whip around, head and heart pounding, and come face-to-face with a furious looking raccoon. Its small black eyes are narrowed in annoyance and its fluffy tail swishes back and forth in the air. It chitters at me, looking very clearly pissed. I don’t know how that’s even possible, and my head hurts just trying to rationalize it.
I scoot away, hands in the dirt and dragging the journal with me. “Sorry to, uh, disturb you little fella. I didn’t mean to use your territory, or anything.” I shuffle backwards and slowly stand up, not breaking eye contact with the creature. “I’ll be out of your hair—fur?—in a second, I swear. I just need to gather my bearings and figure out how to get out of this forest.”
The raccoon tilts its head. The sound it makes almost sounds like a question, with the inflection at the end turning up slightly. It takes a step towards me and I stumble backwards. “I promise I’m leaving!” I say, voice stretching thin. “Just give me a moment. No need to get angry.” I move to put the book back in its holster, and the creature’s eyes immediately lock onto it. As quick as wind it runs at me and leaps, digging its claws into my shirt. I yelp and lose my footing, falling ass-first in the dirt as the raccoon snatches the journal in its mouth and scampers away. Before it’s out of eyeshot it looks over its small furry shoulder at me, and I drag myself to my feet once more, rage and fatigue simmering underneath my skin.
“Give that back!” I demand. I begin running after it, and the racoon immediately books it, weaving through the trees with elegant nimbleness. I trip on my too-big boots and almost fall once more before I catch myself mid-stride. I shout curses as I run. “That could explain why I can’t remember anything! Come back here!”
My vision tunnels and my head throbs. I think I’m going to puke. Trees blend together and become a giant wall of brown speeding past me. I focus my gaze on the bobbing tail of the raccoon a couple yards ahead of me and press on harder, gritting my teeth.
Suddenly, the raccoon stops and looks back at me, journal held firm in its jaws. I let out a ragged bark of victory and lunged at the creature, arms outstretched and ready to snatch my only clue to what happened to me.
My foot catches on something in my path and I land with a thud face down in a pile of dirt and old leaves.
My adrenaline crashes. I shakily lift my head and sputter, trying to get the taste of wet earth out of my mouth. The raccoon sits a foot away from my face, looking at me with widened eyes behind the book. I growl at it weakly. “Bastard.”
It just chirps at me.
With aching muscles I push myself up. My brain feels like it’s on fire. My ankle hurts from how I got my foot snagged, and I wince. Slowly I turn around, readjusting myself to see the root or rock I tripped over without injuring myself further. I sit upright, rub my eyes, and look to see what I had gotten caught on. What I see is neither a rock nor a tree root, and I freeze, all the air escaping my lungs.
A person lays on the forest floor, back turned to me. They’re wearing a sleeveless cream shirt under a pair of dirtied dark sage green overalls that are rolled up at the ankles. A head of messy blond hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. I struggle to stand, breath hitching in my throat, and I slowly walk around the figure, making sure to keep a wide berth. Their face is smudged with dirt and a pair of glasses lay askew on their nose. One of the lenses is cracked. I can’t help but stare in awe and disbelief; despite how dirtied they are, they still somehow manage to look serene and otherworldly.
I look across them at the raccoon who is still standing and staring at me. “Were you trying to bring me to them?” I ask, voice raspy.
Much to my surprise, the raccoon nods enthusiastically. It drops the journal and looks at me expectantly, pawing the ground with its tiny feet.
“What should I do?” I kneel to look closer at the person. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t any damage from when I tripped over them. Besides being dirty and having a crack lens, they looked relatively in good condition. I reach out to push the hair out of their face when their eyelashes flutter, and I immediately recoil.
It takes a moment for their eyes to focus on me. Their irises are a sharp green that pierces me like glass when they latch onto me. They squint against the bright light coming from above and scowl. “Am I in hell?” they mutter.
I try not to look offended and shake my head slowly. “No, you’re alive. We both are, I guess. Though I have no idea how I got here, in this forest. I was wondering if maybe you knew.”
There’s a pause. Then, a dramatic and deep sigh as they sit up rubbing their temples. They flinch a little, hand instinctively going to their midsection, and guilt washes over me. “Sorry about that. I kinda tripped over you chasing after a raccoon that stole my book,” I say sheepishly.
“There’s not one word in that sentence I understand,” they grumble. They take a deep breath and close their eyes for a moment, clutching themselves. I carefully sit down and watch them expectantly, studying them. I try to remember if I have ever met them before, if I knew their name or where they were from. I continue to come back empty.
They slowly open their eyes again and glance at me. “I can’t remember anything,” they admit, reaching up to adjust their glasses. They frown when they realize one of the lenses is cracked. “Not even my name, or what color my damn eyes are. What color are they?” They turn to me and widen their eyes so I can get a good glimpse. I answer without even looking.
“Green.”
“Oh. It would have been cool if they were, like, bright orange or pink or something. But green is cool, I guess.”
“What are mine?”
It takes them a moment to determine an answer, and I start getting impatient before they respond. “I wanna say blue?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I can’t really tell in this light.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re literally in the middle of a super bright forest.”
“I was just unconscious,” they retort, pushing off from the ground and standing up. They wobble for a second before they gain their balance. “I think I deserve a pass from answering super hard questions for the next twenty four hours.”
“All I asked was what color my eyes are.” I stand up as well, and am surprised to see just how much taller they are than me. A couple inches, at least. They see me staring and I look away, turning my attention back to the raccoon. I carefully step towards it and snatch back the journal. It just continues to look up at me, head turned to the side curiously.
Green eyes stands next to me. “What kinda cat is that?” they ask, scratching the back of their head.
“It’s a raccoon. It stole my book and led me to you.” I wave the journal in the air to show them. “It was on my person when I woke up. I think it might have answers to why I can’t remember anything.”
They look at it closely. When they reach out to touch it, I quickly pull it away. “You think? It kinda just looks like somebody’s diary.”
“Maybe it’s mine,” I wonder, running my fingers along the leather cover. “That’s probably my name on the front. Ulla.”
“Whatever, Hairstripe. Let’s get the hell out of these woods.” They saunter on past the raccoon, strides uneven at first but soon gaining a steadiness. I clutch the journal to my chest and run after them deeper into the forest, the raccoon hot on my heels.
“What did you just call me?!”