To Loss

Nightmares plague my sleep. Not the kind with terrifying creatures or painful deaths. The kind where the ones you love suffer endlessly and there’s nothing you can do to help them.

I jolt awake. The scream from before I blacked out still on my lips. I bite it back, but a whimper slips out. Something large and warm caresses my back. My body eases. Tension fades. I release the breath I was holding.

“It’s okay. You're okay, now. Everything’s fine. You’re safe.” Soothes the ocean deep voice of the larger boar like creature.

I inhale deeply. Indulge in the calming words and gentle touch. It's the familiar feel of a parent soothing a child. I often did the same for— someone. Who was it? Someone important. I’m sure of it. Their name was on the tip of my tongue. I almost had it. But now it’s gone.

I update my list of facts. My important person: they are a she, she needs me, I used to comfort her. It’s a start. Could she be my younger sister? My daughter? My lover? Younger sister seems most likely to me. Feels like I’m a bit too young to have a daughter or a lover. I don’t rule it out, though, since I don’t know my age. I wish I could remember more. It's shameful I’ve forgotten someone so important to me. Logically, I know it's beyond my control, but I feel ashamed, nonetheless.

I vow to get my memories back as soon as possible. I need to find my important someone. I know she needs me. So I will remember her. Will find her. No matter what. I don’t care if I only recall her. Don’t care if I never regain the rest of my memories. I don’t need them. I don’t matter. She is all that matters. I would give anything to remember her. Go through any pain. Even keelhauling. Or blooding and sweating. Though I think neither would be as bad as what I just went through. And now that I’m thinking on it, I don’t know what keelhauling or blooding and sweating are.

I’m fully awake now. I sit up. My body aches. I’m in a lot of pain, but it's a good pain. The kind of sore hurting that comes from a good full day of hard labor. The pain of accomplishment. I suppose my accomplishment being I didn’t die. I stretch and flex to ease the soreness. It feels wonderful. The feeling is very familiar. I tentatively add to my list: used to manual labor? At this point, I welcome any hint to finding out who I am.

“Glad to see you're feeling well, child.” Says the ocean deep voice.

I rotate to face him. He’s as big and wide as I thought. Furry with boar features. Tusks. Marbled skin. So I wasn’t hallucinating after all. Or I still am.

I try to speak, but start coughing instead. My throat feels dry and raw. He hands me a waterskin. I realize I’m bone-dry, sun-baked, parched. In my haste to drink, water takes the wrong pipe. I cough it up all over myself. I really am a child. The big guy hides a chuckle. I’m thankful it’s dark. He can’t see how embarrassed I am. I try again. Take slow drinks. It’s like drinking life itself. I feel renewed.

I would’ve drained the skin had the big guy not informed me he also has food. We trade, the waterskin for a plate of leafy plants. I crave meat, but I gratefully consume the greens. They taste salty and bitter. I about cry over how delicious it is. Unbeknownst to me, I was absolutely gut-foundered. I return the empty plate in record time. With food and water in me, I feel magnitudes better.

A profound sense of appreciation comes over me and I can’t help but say, “Thank you. For everything. You’ve done so much for me. I know I would be dead if you hadn’t found me. Thank you so much. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

The big furry guy smiles at me like a proud parent.

“Your welcome. And I think you already know, there’s no repayment necessary. But if you insist, I know someone else who would greatly appreciate hearing those same words of thanks.”

I know exactly who he means without being told. The only person he could mean. The person who alerted us to her approach by gasping loudly. I presume, at the sight of me, awake and well.

I stand just in time to be smothered in a furry boar hug. I give my best effort to return it. But seeing as my feet have left the ground, can only do so much. I repeat my words of thanks. Hope she feels my gratitude. Know words alone will never fully convey how truly thankful I am. For all that they’ve done for me. To be alive.

Great marble tears drench my head and back. Tears? For someone like me? Someone as worthless as me? I feel wholly unworthy, undeserving, detestable. I can’t comprehend it. That someone would care for me enough to shed tears. At seeing me well. At receiving my pitiable thanks. For the second time, I’m flooded with the greatest love for these two. I arrest the sobs forming deep in my throat, but can’t stop the tears from breaking free.

I know for certain that never. Never will I be able to thank these two enough for finding me. For saving my life. For all that they’ve done. But still, I will try.

“Thank you.” I repeat.

With a final spine cracking squeeze, that draws a small groan from my lips, she sets me down. She fusses with my unkept hair as she says, “I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re alright. You are by far the toughest, strongest little elf I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. That you survived to thank me means more to me than you know. So thank you. Thank you, little Serie.” She plants a kiss on my head before releasing me.

Tough and strong? Elf? Serie? Am I a tough, strong elf named Serie? I don’t feel tough or strong. But maybe I just lack self-confidence. Elf? A powerful mythical being? I also don’t feel powerful or mythical. Serie? Doesn't ring a bell.

“Come now Shuri. I told you not to call her Serie, remember?”

“That's right. I'm sorry child. Pay it no mind. It’s just what I've been calling you since we didn’t know your name. Because you're small but strong like the bird, the seriegale. Now that we finally have the chance. It’s a pleasure to know you. I’m Shuri. This is my husband, Grat.”

Shuri and Grat. I’m glad to know their names. I commit them to memory as the wonderful couple that saved my life. I look at them affectionately. They look at me expectantly. Right. This is where I’m meant to give my own name. Guess my names not Serie.

“Eh— well, I guess you can keep calling me Serie. I’m having trouble remembering— much of anything, really. Including my name.”

Shuri and Grat exchange a concerned look. Then eye me with the same concerned look. I don't like the feeling of making them worry. But I also don't want to lie to them.

I hurriedly add, “But I feel fine otherwise. I just have no memories, is all. And that's not so bad.”

Still looking concerned, Shuri says, “I think most people would disagree with you on that. Hmm. You were quite injured, so some memory loss would make sense, especially to cope with the trauma. But to have no memories at all is— odd. You must have been even more injured than we thought. I doubt there's anything else I can do for you. But luckily, some of the best healers from around the world are gathered in Hellonde right now. Once we get back, it's straight to the hospital for you. We'll find someone to set you right. Don't you worry.”

Oddly, I wasn't worried to begin with. But having her assurance is encouraging.

“That’s right. We’ll do all we can to help.” Grat affirms me. “First we have to get back to the city, though. So if you're feeling up to it, we should get a move on before the sun rises. Even with a sunguard, you’re not dressed for walking around in direct sunlight. You won’t get scorched, but you’ll still get burned.”

For the first time, I take note of my clothes. A thin, fitted, white dress that ends halfway to my knees. Patterned sparingly with stitched green leafs. Simple cloth shoes. Nothing to cover my arms, legs, face, head, upper back, shoulders, pointy ears. My immediate reaction is extreme embarrassment. I feel practically naked. I have the strong desire to pull my dress down to cover my legs. But can’t since I have no sleeves lest I risk revealing my deck cargo. The result: I’m left fidgeting uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed and stupid. It’s easy to see how I got so badly burned. I can’t help wondering what I was thinking, coming out here without even proper clothes for protection.

I bite down my embarrassment. Why do I feel so embarrassed? Grat and Shuri didn’t react to my clothes. That means they're normal. Right? Then why do I feel so embarrassed! With effort, I stop fidgeting. Force myself to ignore my clothes. But swear to find some trousers first chance I get.

The three of us start walking for Hellonde. Grat gives me a sunguard, a small glass pendant that I wear around my neck. As we walk, Grat and Shuri seem to enjoy filling my empty head with knowledge. And I enjoy having it filled. I learn they are orcs. They don’t know what a boar is. Orcs and elves don’t interact much. We live at opposite ends of the world. Elves in the north. Orcs in the south. We’re currently on an island near the equator, in demon territory. We’re here for a world summit. Shuri is a delegate. She created the sunguard. Grat is not a delegate. He’s a farmer. I might be a delegate. We don’t know what I am.

The summit is about the sun. It got brighter, hotter, or something. No one's really sure. This caused famine, drought, sun scorching, death. No one could deal with it alone, so the global powers gathered their smartest people together to come up with a solution. Smartest people? I get the feeling, I’m not a delegate.

I applaud Shuri. Say, “You’re one of the smartest people in the whole world. That’s amazing Shuri! Wow!”

Grat joins in, praising, “She’s quite impressive alright. Her sunguard has already saved more lives than we can know. It was the whole focus of the summit for the first two weeks.”

“Yes.” Shuri agrees, but sounds perturbed. “It would be impressive if I could figure out how to expand the protection to cover cities, crops, something more. But I’ve made no progress for weeks. And neither has anyone else, unfortunately. My whole team is too preoccupied with Hangman to focus.”

“Hangman?” I question.

“Shuri.” Grat chides.

“I’m sorry. It just slipped out.” She apologizes, but Grat shakes his head dismissively.

“No matter. I’ve thought of no good way to approach the topic. I think she can handle the truth anyway. May as well be upfront. Don’t you think, Serie?”

Hangman? And sounds like I’m involved somehow. My curiosity is peaked. I nod strongly. Look up at Grat expectantly.

“Ahaha! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. You're just a peculiar little elf, and I mean that in a good way. Ahem! Hangman is the nickname for a murderer that appeared a few weeks after the summit began. And to be blunt, we think you were his most recent kill.”