━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━The cut of the stone against her skin was agony. The piercing, jagged rock left flakes embedded in her skin as her arm scraped along the stone wall of the stable side. With each movement, new agony pierced her nerves. Beneath the stables, one leg was dragged behind her in the muck. Her bare feet lost traction on the mud-slick earth barely a foot from where she had plummeted from the stable roof. She wailed as she drowned in the flood of rain, forcing her hurting legs deeper into the mire. Sobs tore from her throat while rain blurred her vision. With each new howl that slashed her body, her heart climbed to her neck, threatening to tear free. She was alone. A trembling figure illuminated by the attic window's taunting candlelight. Alone to scream for help into the suffocating darkness. Anything, anyone that would hear her She crawled. Crawled on her torso like a maggot burrowing beneath an open wound. A fresh agony broke beneath her nails as she clawed at the thick slurry. Rocks and stones hidden beneath the surface were always placed just right to dig into the tender flesh of her palm. She had no callouses, then. No thick skin to protect her from the dread pouring over her with each passing minute. She had long heard the other Foundlings wailing, into the unfeeling night. They grieved. Grieved for lost family, lost affection. Grieved for the dotting kindness only present in the House in memory. Help was to be accepted in silence. Never acknowledge. Never needed. It was so tempting to get lost in the comfortable give and take, ask and receive. And yet, she still felt that same pang in her chest. As the rain poured into her flesh, she grieved the image of warmth she had yet to know. In the distance, a red-white light emerged. It pushed its way into her vision as a hazy streak, getting closer and closer. The lights - now two sources, glinting from across the field like a beast's eyes in the moonlight - pressed forward through the rain. They stood firm amid the deluge that had trapped the urchin in the mud. The mire clawed at her, draining her strength from the ichor. Each slow blink against the screaming wind was more difficult than the last. The lights grew closer and closer. They appeared to travel for miles with each beat. From blurs to figures, the two forms eventually split into silhouettes. An apparition emerged, her hair as blonde as sunlight blazing in the light of the lantern. Spirit, in mortal form. Flying towards her through the storm with panic ringing in its voice as clear as the chapel bells. A frantic sound in an almost familiar language ran in her ears. The sound wormed through the haze invading her mind. Too much. Too loud. Too tired to hold herself any longer against the blackness that swallowed her whole. ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━
