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Streams Of Unconsciousness

By Piscia

A fight, an ambush, a hit from behind...then nothing....black. Was it minutes, hours, years later?

The steady gait of a horse beneath, strong arms wrapped around, gently, firmly. Cradled against leather and armor, and ah, the smell of someone very familiar. Safety. Then darkness again.

Lightness once more, briefly, just a flash. Warm hands removing bloodied clothing, warm liquid bathing wounds. Bandage wrapped around head, blankets, tucked in. Gentle murmurs. Concerned blue eyes. Safe.

Black once more.

Nightmare. Separation. Pain. Falling, black hole. Alone, screams into darkness. Flailing, tearing at blankets so neatly tucked before. Panic, then strong arms from behind. So close. Waiting to comfort. Envelop. Shhh. Soft murmurs once again. Itís okay. Safe here. Iím here. Not leaving. Be okay. A quick flash. Tender. Another. Love. Then gone again.

Worried blue orbs penetrate the night unseen.

Sweaty, damp cloth over skin. Listen to breathing. Rhythmic. Hand on flesh. Hot. Faint whisper, ...back to me, come back to me. A plea. Then nothing once more.

Carried again. No horse. Steady warrior gait. Warm splashes of water. Rain? No, salty, warm streams down skin. Tears. Hers. Strong arms. Tears. Now mine. Try to move, touch, canít. Effort weakens. Gone.

Soft. Bed. Pillows, white. Familiar, yet memory, long ago. Faces. Who? Focus. Oh, remember now. Family. Sister, mother, fathówait. Strong arms...where? The smell of leather, armor, gone? They. Talking, hovering. Where is she?! Where? No! New fear, panic welling, building. Abandoned? No! Form a word, címon, try. Her name. Got to try, say her name, donít leave, please... " Xe....Xen.....Xena." Exhaustion. Fight. "Xen....Xena!" Panic. Wild. See nothing. Need her. Desperation. Oh, please, no...

Again, strong arms from behind. Oh, please be. Smell? Leather, thank the gods. Thank the gods. Tears again. Not abandoned. Smiles. One warrior, firm hold. Gentle rocking. And now, whatís this? Oh, food, yes. Hunger. Broth, bread. Callused fingers hold a spoon, bring it to my lips. Feeding, feeding me. Got to eat, Gabrielle. Let me help. Help? Yes? Yes. Open mouth, close, swallow. Again. Again. Bowl is empty. Bread gone. Still holds me. Happy. Healing. Close my eyes. But not gone. This time, just to sleep.

Content blue orbs smile into the daylight, not unseen.

The End

 

 


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