Chapter 50: Amalea

It’s soft. Where—where am I? I should be dead. I try to open my eyes, but they feel heavy. I feel heavy, sleepy, distant from myself, like—I can’t think straight. My thoughts run from me, confuse me. Why is it soft? I can feel it all around me, against my skin, cradling me. Naked—I’m naked. Why? They hung me.

I should be dead. It smells like soil, like earth, like home. Am I dead? Am I home? I have to open my eyes. Open. It takes all my strength, but slowly the world fades into view. Moss. The moss is soft. I’m below a tree, an oak tree.

The realization sends a shot of sobering adrenaline through me, and my mind emerges from the haze—it’s not just any oak tree. It’s our oak tree! I’m laying at the tunnel entrance, but how did I get here? Who brought me here? Why am I naked? Why can’t I move?

I try to wiggle my fingers, but they won’t budge, and my eyes flutter closed from the effort. My tears fall anyway. Who cares how I got here? I’m alive, and I’m home. I just need to sleep whatever