08-14-2017, 08:47 AM
Quote:Moral of the story, hiding in a cart full of hammers is a bad idea. Also, from this post onwards I have like no plans. So if you want to drop in, just send me a PM and do whatever.
Lyra's unconscious body spilt out of the cart, carried by the unstable mass of tools. Blood dripped from the bludgeoning wound on her forehead. Her body continued to shift from the movement of the metal, eventually reaching equilibrium; her upper torso hung out of the pile, yet inside legs were twisted at odd angles. Long blond hair was tangled and knotted throughout the erratic composition of handles and tool heads, it flowed little in the cool valley breeze. Oddly draped about frame was a plain yellow dress, her arms were left mostly exposed and while the fabric was stretched and rumpled - reaching most of the way down her thighs at best - orange leggings had protected her legs from most contact with the cold iron and steel. Yet, despite this, they did little to stop the sharper side of one of the hammers from clawing into her shin.
Some of the cargo had fallen into the river, and Lyra's balanced body was in danger of doing the same, should anything shift. Watery reddish drool dripped out of her mouth, creating a faint irregular sound from its impacts on the metal and stone, yet it was shortly hidden by the shuffling of footsteps. Sound tended to echo in the valley, and while that meant noises could be heard from much further distances, the interference tended to result in most detail being lost. This left it hard to estimate the number of people based on footsteps, and sometimes even impossible to tell laughter from screams. Most information from speech would quickly be lost as it ricocheted around the winding valley.
"John, I'm telling you, I definitely heard something."
His anxiety was met with John's exasperation. "It was probably just a rock falling into the water. All kinds strange echoes come from this place, Jake." Many villagers had simply learned to ignore the sounds. Occasionally, one seemed more real than others but searching rarely yielded a supporting result.
However, despite this, the man acted convinced that the cry he heard wasn't a false alarm. "And I'm saying I definitely heard a scream. Hurry up and take this seriously for once."
He received a sigh in response. "Fine. But this is the last corner I'm looking around. After that, I'm heading home and you're buying me a drink."
The collection of footsteps increased in volume, becoming louder and more frequent as they unknowingly approached Lyra.
One pair stopped abruptly, the cart, tools, and then Lyra, coming into his field of view. "How did this..." Briefly, he continued to stare in shock and confusion. In actuality, once he'd started walking his doubts had grown. He'd only been pursuing the noise out of stubbornness to prove his condescending friend was wrong. Not exactly a heroic motive. Nonetheless, Jake ran forwards aiming to do something. He wasn't sure what that something was, but it would hopefully help the limp bleeding girl. "John, get over here."
Shortly after Jake spoke, his friend half-heartedly pushed on around the corner, expecting Jake to be playing a joke. Upon actually making his way round the bend, however, his face dropped into a frown - actually feeling a twinge of guilt. If he hadn't insisted the was nothing there, maybe the pair could have reached the girl sooner. He just hoped it wasn't too late. "I'm on it."
Jake naturally reached the wagon first, quickly inspecting Lyra. "She's still breathing at least. I don't think we can know how bad it is 'til she wakes up. And I'm not a doctor." For a short time, he considered trying to pull her out but realised that risked more injuries from some of the tools. It looked to him like they were wrapped up together, but whatever kept them packaged must have been weak considering the current situation.
John, however, looked onwards, further ahead of the wagon. He bent over, one hand covering his mouth and the other placed on his chest before recomposing himself. A mangled horse and human lay sprawled on the rocky ground, face and body unrecognisable. It has hard to tell what specifically hurt him. There were no distinct claw, sword, or bite marks. It was just a grotesque blur of red. Despite this, due to the cart, John had a good idea who the person was. What confused him was the presence of the girl, which he knew he recognised from somewhere. He was never the best with names and faces, and tended to spend most of his time in the mines or at home, rarely going to any social gathering. He had very little memories of his prior life, and the small parts he did remember made him feel empty. Working was a good way to ignore that.
Moving closer to Jake, John carefly began to remove the tools pinning the girls legs, working as quickly as he could without causing any risks. His friend followed his lead, still blissfully unaware of the bodies. It took some time, but eventually, Lyra was free, besides for the metal clawing into one of her shins. It wasn't deep, but removing it would allow the bleeding to continue even faster. John looked down at his shirt briefly, about to tear off a section of fabric, before remembering the cart coverings. Instead, he ripped off strips to use to cover the wound. He had no medical experience, but he figured that was something he should probably do. And if not, then at least it would stop blood getting on him should he carry her. Jake was weaker than him, after all.
Slowly, the metal was removed from Lyra's leg, twisted out the same way it went in as an effort to avoid further tissue damage. Soon enough, Lyra lay limp against John's back with him trying to carry her. He could easily lift someone much heavier than she was, but the lack of resistance in her muscles meant it was near impossible to carry her easily. In the current position, he felt at ease knowing he could feel and hear faint steady breaths. "Jake, run ahead and get someone to tell them what happened. I'll carry her and catch up with you. There better be a doctor waiting for me."