Road to Recovery.
Carlos was dreaming again, always the inescapable, crushing walls, threatening to overwhelm him, the darkness, the damp, the misery. His existence measured by no other sensations, except the claustrophobic terror of the hole. He was being buried alive, crushed under the cold of the earth. His fingers tearing at the hard unforgiving stone of his prison as he fought to stay alive. An agonized scream escaped him then, he could take no more of the pressing darkness. Jarring him finally to full consciousness for the first time in many days.
He groaned as he opened his eyes, he could make out the rock above him not much higher than head height, and the solid walls all round. Shaking with exhaustion he slumped back on to the bed, beads of sweat running into and stinging his already sore eyes. He swallowed, his throat felt raw, his tongue felt dry in his mouth. Registering suddenly the sensation of his injured hands, and numb fingers, the nails bleeding and torn.
Carlos lay quietly for a while, his mind trying to make sense of the environment around him. Trying to recall anything at all that could enlighten him on his present situation. Still he could not think, in his ears sounded the steady drip, drip of water somewhere in a subterranean pool close by. Snippets of memories came to him, none making any sense, then one above all others he recalled. Warren, yes Warren, remembering vaguely now that it was the seemingly cowardly man who had helped him in his plight. He must have brought me here Carlos reassured himself, the notion bringing relaxation to his tense body at last, soothing him to peaceful sleep.
He awoke much later to the friendly glow of a small fire, and the aroma of roasting meat, though his weak stomach did not appreciate the usually inviting smell. He made a feeble attempt to rise and much to his chagrin, found he did not possess the strength to do so, nausea rising, and his vision swimming with the effort, he had to give the attempt away.
A short time later he heard the light footfalls, knowing even before she appeared it was a woman who approached the opening in the chamber. In a few moments there was Selene, looking as she always did and uttering not a word. Carlos tried to sit up, this too beyond his fatigued body, Selene going to his side, her gentle hands pushing him down indicating he should rest. He did not resist, and watched her go about her work from the comfort of his bed. Drifting in and out of sleep, relishing being warm and comfortable for the first time in many weeks. Relieved that the nightmare was finally over.
Thus began his many long days of recovery sequestered in Selene's caves. At first it was difficult to eat and drink, his malnourished body often rejecting even the smallest portions of food and water, yet doggedly he persisted, fighting to regain his strength. Selene daily applying her stinging, unknown salves to his many sores. First Carlos was unhappy and mistrustful of this. Though he noted that they did seem to encourage his healing with frightening efficiency, despite the stinging pain they elicited every time they were applied. His physical progress he found frustratingly slow, Carlos was unused to such feelings of weakness, battling a deficient body that would not respond to his command. Often his new state of helplessness bringing out the darkness in him, inciting him to savage temper. Selene watched on from the sidelines, maintaining her non critical silence, keeping out of his way, as he vented his frustration.
It was many days before he could even manage something as simple as a short walk, his wasted muscles almost at once screaming at him to stop. He did not get far before he buckled to the ground, his entire body shaking with both exertion and fury at his incompetence to complete such a simple task. He swore, ranted and screamed his anger and frustration at the caves stone walls, until finally he had exhausted his black temper, and himself. Selene helping him back to the comfort of his bed.
He lay there closely examining the hides whilst Selene prepared some food, the young man had never imagined this untamed girl would have been so skilled in the art of tanning and curing this bedding. They had to be the finest, softest, examples of comfort he had ever seen anywhere, admitting this petite woman child was certainly full of surprises.
