Then, I woke up after remembered if I was passed out, I find I’m in the middle of a blossoming meadow. The sound of flowing water reached my ears, and I instinctively began to walk towards it, my steps slow and unsteady. I had no idea how long I’d been unconscious or how much time had passed since I last stumbled through the forest. As I awoke, I scanned my surroundings, noticing the vibrant flowers in full bloom, their colors stark against the darkness of the forest. Tall trees loomed overhead, blocking out most of the moonlight, casting the area in a cloak of shadow. The air was cool, and the night felt heavy with the kind of silence only found deep in the woods.
My gaze shifted forward, and I froze in place. A large bear was walking towards me. Its enormous form was terrifying, and I couldn’t move, as if my body had been paralyzed by the sheer fear of its approach. My heart pounded in my chest as the distance between us closed, yet I remained rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by dread.
But then, something unexpected happened—the bear began to shift, its form rippling like water, its fur melting away until an adult female human stood before me. She was wearing clothes that, like mine, were tattered and covered in dirt and blood. Her hair, long and matted, framed her face, which held a soft but weary expression. It was clear she, too, had suffered, just like me.
The woman—who I now realized was a mutant like me—extended her hand, holding a coconut shell filled with water. I didn’t hesitate. My parched throat begged for relief, and without a second thought, I drank deeply. The cool liquid flowed through me, soothing my dry mouth and giving me a brief moment of strength. I could feel the dehydration slipping away, even if only for a while.
She looked at me with kind, understanding eyes, her voice gentle as she spoke. "How are you feeling now, little girl?"
I didn’t have the strength to answer verbally, so I merely nodded slightly, acknowledging her kindness.
"Thank God," she murmured, relief evident in her tone. "I was worried you might die from dehydration."
She sat down beside me, her gaze distant as she spoke again, "I usually boil water from the river, using whatever tools nature provides. But food is harder to come by. We’ll have to make do with what we have. We can survive for a while, but it’s not easy."
I stayed silent, taking in her words as I looked at her—this strange, yet comforting woman who seemed to be my only ally in this desolate world. Her body was covered in blood and dirt, much like mine. Her clothes were shredded and barely hanging together, yet there was a strength in her that I couldn’t deny.
She seemed to sense my confusion and uncertainty. "Maybe we're just unlucky, little one," she said with a sigh, "But you know, if you’re ever scared or lonely, you can cuddle with me. We’re both cursed, and I know how hard it is, especially for someone so young. But you're not alone."
I felt a small measure of comfort in her words, though I didn’t know how to respond. The silence between us felt heavy, yet somehow it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if, in this moment, we were sharing something deeper than just words.
The woman smiled kindly at me, as if she understood the silence. "By the way," she said, "My name is May. May Ginmberth. It's nice to meet you, little girl."
I gathered the strength to speak, my voice barely a whisper. "May? Aunt May, I... I’m sorry..."