I only have the willpower to write absolute crack these days, so here's a world-hopping reader ❤
Word Count: 2.8k
Rating: T
Tags: Story Extract, Adventure, Fluff, a lil angsty but not much, Newt acting like an absolute mom, Gally x Reader, Isekai
For the purposes of understanding the tiny details in this extract: Reader jumps realities to the Glade via a rechargeable power called the 'Tick'. She has an irl friend called Kai, and she's being hunted in her reality because of the power she stumbled onto. We enter the scene after she's jumped into the maze and has hidden until sunrise to avoid Grievers. Crack Fics, yo. Where logic has no home.
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You woke again sometime later, with the sun well and truly beating down from above. The crawlspace had turned into an oven, leaving your body clammy and damp with sweat.
Panting for breath, you fought against the ache in your muscles and pulled yourself from beneath the vines, rolling out onto the stone path. You lay there for just a second. You stretched your body, welcoming the shift in climate. The air was still warm, but not nearly as stifling as your hiding spot.
When you decided it was time to move, you used the vines to pull yourself up then wobbled like a new-born calf. You always hoped this part of the Tick would get easier. It never did. You were destined to always start your time in the Glade with backache and stiff legs.
Taking slow steps to begin with, you headed towards the open gates then smiled when you spotted the ever-green grass of the Glade. It was a sight for sore eyes after the treacherous maze and the confines of your apartment.
Teetering at the edge of the maze, you stuck to the wall like glue to keep hidden. It had been a few months since your last visit. There would be boys here now who did not know you. You didn’t want to startle anyone by wandering into the Glade like you owned the place, especially when the third and most important rule of the Glade was to never venture beyond the walls. If a Greenie saw you strutting in from the maze, they might even think you a Griever and try to gut you before anyone else could explain. It was an absurd worry, but as you were being hunted by villains in another reality, it was best to play it careful here.
You peered around the edge of the gate, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone close enough to see you. Some boys were working in the distance, too far away to distinguish, but for the time being the coast was clear.
You slipped into the Glade, heaving a great sigh of relief once you were inside the walls with no one calling out about your arrival.
Searching for something in particular, you traced the wall until you found the familiar patch engaved with the thirty names of the Glade's inhabitants. Some letterings were old, some fresh, and some had been chiselled through entirely to signify those who were dead. There were more names crossed-out since your last visit than you liked to notice.
Tracing your fingers over the stone, you lingered your gaze on each newly crossed-out name before daring to look for his. You knew exactly where on the memorial Gally’s name was, but the fear of seeing a strike through it caused you to falter.
You had promised Kai that Gally would not die so easily, but the maze was a cruel and unpredictable place.
After taking comfort from seeing some of your Glader friends’ names still intact, you dared look at Gally’s. And there it was; the five letters of his name boldly chiselled and untouched for three long years.
He was still alive.
You gave a little sigh of relief as you placed your hand to his name. You felt guilty for doubting him, but one of the worst things anyone could do in the Glade was hope for something good.
But now that you had that reassurance, a spring found its way into your step as you scurried along the perimeter towards the Gardens. Having come from the East Gate, and aiming for the Homestead in the North-West corner, your fastest path was straight across the Glade, but until you found Gally, or at least any of the prominent Gladers who knew about you, you didn’t want to stand out.
So you kept to the walls and headed north towards the Gardens, hoping to reach the Homestead without much hassle.
“____?”
But then again, some hassles were worth having.
You turned, hearing a familiar voice, then saw a mop of dirty-blonde hair as your second favourite Glader, Newt, appeared from amongst the Garden’s trellis. He grinned when he saw you.
“Long time no see, love.” He wiped the mud from his hands onto his pants then came straight over to hug you.
“I’m so glad you’re still here.” You said, only realising now how much you had missed your Glader friends. Newt embraced you, chuckling as you buried your face into his collar to say hello.
Newt was a tall, thin boy, who acted as the second-in-command amongst the Gladers. He radiated a natural friendliness and was often a source of companionship for you during your stays. Actually, if not for Newt, Gally himself would have banished you to the mercy of the maze on your first trip here. Your first encounter with the Tick had been completely accidental, and you had been just as afraid and upset by your arrival as the rest of the Gladers. It had only been Newt’s interference in a kind and calming manner that had settled everyone down, including you, and certainly including Gally.
“You’ve got impeccable timing as always, love.” Newt quipped, drawing back to get a better look at you like a mother hen checking over its chick for scuffs.
“Oh?” was all you could manage, pursing your lips to hold down a chuckle as he tilted your face to check you weren’t hurt. He was one of the only Gladers who knew that you entered the Glade through the maze, so he was always especially eager to check you over for stings.
“Aye,” he said with a playful grimace. “We’ve been having a bit of bother with wood-rot. Gal’s been especially grumpy from the extra work, and he’s been getting on everyone’s nerves. Think you can sort him out?”
“I’ll do my best.” You agreed, half-heartedly batting Newt’s hand away to tell him you were fine. “Do you know where I can find him?”
A boyish grin broke onto his face. He held an arm out towards the Homestead, enjoying the thought of someone putting the Keeper of the Builders in his place.
“He was working on the roof last I saw him. I can walk you over. Keep the greenies out your hair.”
You thanked him for the gesture as he dusted off his clothes, then he offered you his arm. You smiled, linking with him, then the two of you began a merry walk through the Glade like a couple of sweethearts in springtime. You kept the pace leisurely to accommodate Newt’s limp, and it gave you time to ask him about the changes since your last visit.
“What are the new recruits like? Any stand-outs?”
Newt chuckled, adopting a playfully serious tone.
“A bag of shanks if ever there was one.” He counted-off on his fingers. “Two new Builders, a Slopper and a Gardener.”
He gave you a pointed look, wondering if the news of a gardener would pique your interest when it was the role you usually adopted while you were here.
“Ooo, I guess I’ll have competition then.”
Newt pulled you closer into his side with a gentle squeeze at your waist.
“Don’t worry, love. He doesn’t wear a piny nearly as well as you.”
“Ha. I knew it.” You said, pumping your fist in mock victory, causing Newt to laugh.
“I’m glad you’ve not lost your sense of humour while you’ve been gone. How are things over there? Are they starting to settle down?”
It hurt only a little that Newt looked so hopeful, like he expected you to say that all your problems were gone and that life was perfect. Unable to grace him with such pleasant news, you shrugged and forced a smile.
“My life will never be settled, Newty. I like the chaos too much.”
“Good, that. At least it keeps you coming back.”
You opened your mouth to tell him that even if your real life was sunshine and rainbows, you would still visit, but the sound of fervent hammering caught your ear and stole your attention. Newt noticed and linked your arm tighter, like he expected you to go running off like a crazed toddler.
“Best not to charge in, love. You might give our new builders a heart-attack.”
You pouted playfully, but understood what he meant. The Gladers were made up entirely of amnesiac, disoriented boys. They arrived one per month via an elevator box in the centre of the Glade, completely memoryless, then struggled to make lives for themselves as one giant family.
The addition of a new Glader came like clockwork, so if you appeared all of a sudden, and being a girl no less, it was bound to cause an uproar. You knew that, and Newt knew that, because you'd managed to cause that same problem twice already.
Fortunately, as you approached the Homestead, you realised for the most part that it was empty. Everyone else was out doing their daily jobs, and only the builders were on sight to carry out maintenance.
Once you were stood outside the handmade home, engulfed by the sounds of hammering, Newt squeezed your hand with a gentle smile.
“Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s missed you.”
His words caught you off-guard. Before you could respond, Newt let go of your arm then cupped his hands around his mouth to shout at the top of his lungs,
“Gally, have you got a minute?”
The loud hammering noises ceased. Somewhere up on the roof, the timbers creaked as bodies shifted, then Gally called back,
“What’s wrong?”
Hearing his deep voice after so long sent a flutter of warmth through you, even if he did sound especially irked. Newt had not been exaggerating earlier.
“I’ve got something that might need your attention. Can you come down?”
You pressed a knuckle to your lips to hold down a smile as your anticipation built.
“Can’t it wait? We’re busy.”
Newt rolled his eyes.
“It’ll only take a minute. Come on.” He turned to you. “Bet he wouldn’t take this much convincing if he knew you were here.”
You liked to think he was right.
The wood groaned again as a certain someone found his way down from the roof on the far side of the Homestead. By now, Newt’s shouting had caught more than just Gally’s attention and others were making their way over from various areas of the Glade to investigate.
Gally came around the corner, wiping the sweat from his brow by lifting his shirt up to his face. The action gave you a very clear shot of his stomach and Newt could only chuckle as you squeaked in bashful surprise.
“What’s so important that I’ve gotta’ look at it now?” asked Gally, fixing his shirt back into place with a gruff tug. But the question was barely past his lips before he stopped dead, catching sight of you.
“Look who I found in the Gardens,” Newt announced with a cheery grin, taking full delight in Gally’s startled expression.
Seeing that neither you nor Gally planned to move, Newt put his hand into the small of your back then pushed you forwards, like a mother forcing their child into a playdate.
Unprepared for the shove, you stumbled but stopped before you could trip and make an embarrassment of yourself.
“H-hi, Gal.”
Gally didn’t speak. He didn’t move. The only reason you knew he hadn't died on the spot was the blink of his eyes and the ever-furrowing arch of his brows.
“Play nice,” Newt warned jokingly, as he knew what was going to happen next, especially with other Gladers closing in.
“Gal?”
The question was barely past your lips before Gally finally reacted.
You braced yourself, side-eyeing Newt to say goodbye as the builder stormed towards you, then his large hand clamped around your wrist.
“Inside. Now.”
Without breaking a sweat, Gally turned and marched you inside the Homestead, missing the arrival of the other Gladers by seconds, with Newt there to ward them off.
“Best give them some space, chaps.”
Inside, Gally kept hold of you as he pulled you straight through the council room and out to where the Medical and Keepers’ Rooms were. In this primitive Glade, they were the closest places to privacy anyone could wish for, aside from the washroom.
Minho, the Keeper of the Runners, was relaxing peacefully in his hammock when Gally stormed in. He barely had chance to spot you and wave before Gally shot him a look.
“Come back later.”
Minho clearly couldn't decide whether Gally was joking, but when he realised he wasn’t, Minho frowned but pulled himself out of his hammock, regardless.
“This is what I get for finishing my run early.” He pushed past Gally to get out, but flashed you a smile on his way past. “Welcome back, ____.”
“You look well, Minho.” You called after him, hoping to soften the impact of Gally’s mood.
Gally held onto your wrist until he knew the two of you were alone. He stayed still, listening out for anyone else. Even you strained an ear, wondering if perhaps the nosier Gladers would try to listen in, but after a moment, Gally released you. He stepped away and turned, sinking into his hammock with his feet over the side. His exuberant height meant they still planted firmly on the ground.
“Why are you here?”
He met your gaze and held it, his expression firm. Gally was never was one to beat about the bush.
“Hello to you, too.” You said, though your dry humour failed to break the tension. Gally raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for you to drop the attitude and answer him. “Don’t be like that, Gal. You know I wouldn’t do this without good reason.”
He furrowed his brows further, but his expression slipped from impatience to something more like concern.
“What happened to Kai?”
“No, it’s not that. He’s alright.” You sucked in your breath. “I've finally got a target on my back, that’s all.”
Alarm flashed through Gally’s eyes. He went to stand up but you held up your arms to keep him still. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Kai's been keeping me safe.” You didn’t like how talking about the dangers in your other life made your breath shake. “But he’s gone off to fight. This is the only place I can hide. I’m sorry, Gal. I know we said I’d stay there this time. I know we did but—”
Gally was in front of you before you could stop him.
“Enough.”
One word was enough to silence you. He pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you before the true extent of your worries could take hold. Gally wasn’t the kind of person to talk about sentimentalities, but his firm embrace was enough to shush the uneasiness in your heart. It told you: he was glad you were here, and here you were safe.
“Thanks, Gal,” you murmured, pressing your face into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his broad midsection, your fingers almost touching.
He grunted in response, keeping hold of you until he was sure you did not need him.
“How long are you here for?”
You rubbed your face against the scratchy material of his shirt, trying to tell him you did not want to talk about it. You had just got here, and you had missed Gally more than you cared to admit. The last thing you wanted to think about was leaving him, especially when it led you to worry about Kai's fate.
“A few days. Maybe. I need to recharge.”
Gally was quiet for a moment and you gave him time to think, enjoying the strength and the warmth in his embrace, particularly because you knew it was a softer side of him reserved entirely for you.
“Fine.” He said, finally, definitively. He rested his hand against the back of your head, keeping you held against him in a clumsy but affection hold. “I’ve still got jobs to do. Should be done in an hour, though. Stay here so you don’t bother anyone else.”
“Would I do that?”
You tried to pull back so he could see your feigned hurt expression, but he kept you pinned because he knew that was exactly what you were trying to do.
“Behave.”
He stroked your hair, dwindling your urge to rebel. “Might as well enjoy the quiet while you can. Shuck knows you won’t get any peace once everyone knows you’re here.”
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Imma do my best to get back to writing properly (or at least headcanons?) but let me know if you want any more extract dumps because I have hundreds that are rotting because I cant finish anything 🤣🤣❤
What do you do on Halloween with Mordecai, Rigby and the guys?
Well it started with us heading out to go trick or treating, it was pretty fun but just your average trick or treating session. When we got home we combined all our candies and started trading around for candies we wanted. I kinda like a lot of the candy that most people don't really like so I got all that haha.
After that we told a bunch of spooky stories, it was pretty fun but mine sucked and Muscle man called me a Saw knock off >:v But it's all in good fun, maybe next year I'll be more prepared!
For Maribat March 2021 day 12 prompt Second Chance (sort of. if you squint hard enough).
I know this one is late (like four days late) but i hope you enjoy it regardless.
Enjoy ~
Ever since Marinette was little she’d always wondered if there was more than just her universe. Her parents had always chuckled at her, simply letting her get wrapped up in what they believed to be an obsession with science fiction.
When Marinette was ten years old she’d already consumed nearly all of the media about other universes or realities. She decided instead to begin writing about her own reality. She simply let her mind wander, writing down everything that crossed her mind.
She was eleven when she met a kind, if opinionated, old man who didn’t tell her that her ideas were useless and better suited for boys like her Nonno Roland. She could look past his opinions on how she dressed and how she acted so she could have someone who didn’t think her stance on the multiverse theory was dumb. His name was Master Wang Fu and he taught her different methods of meditation.
---
Three months after she turned eleven, one month after she met Master Fu, she woke up in a place she’d never been in before. Luckily she had her phone on her so she could quickly search for her parents’ patisserie.
The first article she found was about a fire. The fire took not only her home and her parents’ business, but also her parents. The second article she found was about what happened to her after. She learned that she’d been shuffled around from home to home for a while before some American billionaire, Bruce Wayne, took her in and legally adopted her, giving her several siblings as well as a new grandparent and an aunt.
She was drawn out of her thoughts by a large dog, identified as Titus by a family photo on one of the newspapers’ websites, jumping on top of her and a call of “Copycat?” from her doorway. She turned to look at whomever was at the door, a boy maybe one year older than her identified as Damian by the same family photo.
“Hey, Damian.” She could tell from the way he was looking at her that she usually called him something else.
“Did you hit your head? Should I retrieve Todd?” Damian turned on his heel and went in search of ”Todd”.
Marinette looked at that same family photo, taken by a Ms. Lois Lane, to learn who exactly “Todd” was. She learned his name, Jason Todd, and put a face to the name. Her vision started to get cloudy and she felt herself slump forward.
The last thing she heard was a distressed call of “Pixie?!” before she woke back up in her bed above the patisserie.
---
It had been nearly two months since she had woken up in the Wayne home, having done her research on them in the time since, when she woke up in a different room in the manor. She glanced down, seeing dark skin like Damian’s from her last visit, before searching out a mirror. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing features she vaguely remembered from Damian prominently displayed on her own face. She glanced down, seeing a black outline of praying mantis peaking through the neckline of the shirt she wore. She decided to get dressed, figuring this other version of her would appreciate the forethought when she woke back up in her body. She pulled on a dark purple high neck shirt with a matching dark purple high-waisted skirt over a pair of gray sheer tights and a pair of purple heeled boots, in an outfit inspired by Starfire.
She left the room, striding through the house as though she owned the building. Her thoughts were cut off by a call of “Man-eater?”
Marinette recognized the voice from the last time she was in the manor. “Jason.” She didn’t get to see the surprise on his face as in the next second her vision was clouding over and she seemed to fall into the wall.
---
The third time Marinette woke up in Wayne Manor, Damian was wrapped around her while their turkey, Jerry, was asleep at the foot of the bed. She gently ran her fingers through Damian’s hair, noticing that their skin tones were almost identical this time, and smiled. She looked up at a barely there sound by the bedroom door and saw a man who she figured would look nearly identical to Damian if he was asleep. She dug back through her memories, recalling that the man in the doorway was named Bruce (the same man who’d adopted her the first time she’d woken up in the manor) while another man, similar to Bruce, appeared just over his shoulder with a smile on his face. Marinette smiled back at him before several sets of too loud footsteps sounded behind the two men, causing her to clap her hands over her ears.
She didn’t hear anything they said as she faded away from this reality, having put together after the first time that she was traveling between realities and inhabiting that reality’s Marinette.
---
The fourth time, Marinette woke up in her bedroom in the patisserie, or what she assumed was her bedroom. She ran her hand through her hair, finding it much shorter than she remembered and when she pulled her hand away there were dark red strands of hair caught between her fingers. She figured maybe she wasn’t Marinette Dupain-Cheng this time simply from the red hair, but she also knew she wasn’t related to Damian due to her pale skin. She watched as her phone lit up with a notification from Chloé, followed by a notification from Nino and finally a notification from Kim before her vision grew cloudy and she drifted away from this reality.
---
The fifth time, Marinette jolted awake in her bedroom, a scream dying on her tongue. She looked around her, seeing a sickly green coloured broken heart floating beside her head. She also noticed the teal colour of her hair, figuring that something had happened to cause her to want to change her hair. She looked at her phone as it lit up with a notification from Chloé, which was one of two common things between this reality and the last. She faded quicker from this reality than the last few, not understanding why until she talked to Master Fu about it.
---
Marinette sat across from Master Fu in the main room of his massage parlor. Her head was bent while she waited for him to finish his tea.
Master Fu looked at Marinette, could see the residual magic from the Rabbit miraculous left on her being. He raised an eyebrow as he caught a glimpse of reisual magic from the Snake miraculous around her head and frowned. “Do you believe in magic?”
Marinette nodded, looking at the older man. “Of course. One can’t believe in alternate realities that run parallel to their own without acknowledging the existence of magic.”
Master Fu suddenly got up and moved to an old looking gramophone, pushing a series of buttons until an ancient looking jewelry box rose out of the gramophone. Master Fu carried it over to the table and opened it to reveal sixteen animal themed pieces of jewelry.
“These are- where did you find these?” Marinette looked up at Master Fu, her eyes shining a pale indigo.
Master Fu smiled at Marinette. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Despite never having come in contact with these jewels you seem to have tapped into the abilities of some of the beings held in this box. It is my sworn duty to protect them. Will you join me in protecting these jewels from harm and reclaiming the two lost jewels?”
Marinette nodded, holding herself back from reaching out for the jewels. “I will join you.”
---
Marinette awoke in Wayne Manor again, this time wearing an ouroboros snake bracelet with yellow citrine eyes, and she instantly knew something was different. “Sass, scales slither,” she uttered as she looked around the room seeing nothing beyond the darkness.
She was cloaked in an aqua green light and when it vanished her eyes glowed yellow allowing her to actually take in her surroundings. She uttered “second chance” as she turned her bracelet engaging her ability as she waited for the sense of wrongness to approach.
Her vision clouded over once again as she faded from this reality, wondering where she’d end up next.
Vipère awoke in her place, her eyes flicking from left to right, before she sighed and slumped back down onto her bed. “Sass, scales rest.” Vipère was cloaked in an aqua green light and when it disappeared, Martha was in her place. “Sass, is anyone else in the room?”
Mandatory statement that this is a discussion of Karl Jacobs DreamSMP RP character, not the man himself.
So I recently saw someone talking about how Karl isn’t actually a time traveler, he just thinks he is but he’s actually reality hopping (or whatever you wanna call it when you go to an alternate reality). In reality, a time traveler is always a reality hopper, though vice versa isn’t always the case, and I’ll explain why he is a time traveler.
DISCLAIMER: I do not have a formal education involving any of this, I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking about this stuff. Like, I literally worried about the grandfather paradox in time travel before I even knew the name for it or that it was a common, bigger theory.
So, the grandfather paradox, for those who don’t know it, essentially points out that traveling back in time to kill your grandfather would result in you not being born which then means no one went back in time to kill your grandfather so you were born and are then able to go back in time to kill your grandfather and you create a paradox. Thus, assuming the butterfly effect applied to time travel (any small interaction or change to the time period will cause big ripples or changes to the future) just existing in a different time is enough to cause a paradox. In order for time travel to exist one would actually need to be creating a new reality where the consequences are the correct set of events for that reality’s time periods or travel to a reality where the time travel is “expected” and necessary for the timeline of that reality to play out as it should. Therefore, a time traveler must always be a reality hopper for time travel to exist paradox free.
Now I don’t really wanna dive too deep into alternate reality theory stuff (I’ve spent too much of my life contemplating time travel paradoxes, effects, and implications even as a kid smh) but basically alternate realities aren’t necessarily always based around the same reality rules (I.e fantasy magic stuff could be possible in one reality but not in another) and thus traveling to them can’t always be considered time travel.
With all of this established info, let’s get into Karl. He believes himself to be a time traveler, but some people have pointed out he might just be a reality hopper. The thing is, aside from the Mizu Tales from the DreamSMP stream most tales streams haven’t had any indication of being connected in any chronological way with the “current” DreamSMP reality timeline everyone else streams. In Mizu, Karl was a time traveler, but besides that there’s no guarantee he’s anything past a reality hopper because we aren’t really told much (though presumably the murder mystery and old west tales streams were in some way connected to the “current” timeline because of the egg).
Because we have one confirmed and two possible instances of time travel, I believe it’s fair to call Karl a time traveler and that all those other Karls in the Inbetween are alternate reality Karls (no I will not be getting into the logic of seeing/interacting/knowing of alternate reality selves, that’s too much for this) who are also presumably at least reality hoppers if they’re in the Inbetween.
TLDR: The grandfather paradox and butterfly effect (relating to time travel) means time travel is always reality hopping. Ergo, a time traveler is a reality hopper who visits realities with similar chronology/history to their reality and Karl has a few confirmed instances where he could be considered a time traveler and not just a reality hopper.
A Dragon Age: Inquisition multiple pairings fanfic inspired by the Watches ‘Verse
Summary: Every time, she wakes up a different person. Reality hopping for beginners.
At first, she is a she. Then, she is a he, a he again, a she, and again, and again, a he, once more, and—
It starts with buzzing. A persistent sound that isn’t heard but felt. It initiates in her skull, temporal bones vibrating, spreads through parietal, and meets in occipital. She groans. The week of all-nighters clearly didn’t do me any favours, she thinks. Tries to swat the alarm off and rub her forehead. Can’t do either. Opens eyes to slits. There isn’t an alarm clock. There isn’t a bed, for that matter. Not even a chair. Hard stone under her knees, wrists shackled in heavy manacles bolted to the floor. Adrenalin floods her bloodstream.
She croaks, “What’s going on?” Her voice breaks on the last syllable, throat tight and dry.
Nobody answers. A door bangs the wall, loud footsteps. Angry voices. She doesn’t understand why her hand is hurting. She asks. Pain erupts across her mandible bone and soft tissues. Blood in her mouth — cut cheek against her teeth. A backhand rattles her brain. She blacks out, and—
She is a he. The weight of a penis and lack of breasts; broader shoulders, wide palms, not her hands. His. Same place, buzzing, footsteps, voices, shouted questions.
“What’s going on?” he repeats. Voice masculine, pleasant, but scratchy. Xerostomia*, of course.
They tell him a Conclave was destroyed, and he is at fault, and dying. Nothing makes sense. He agrees. Staggers onto his feet, led like a dog on a leash out of a church. Outside, bright daylight blinds. An angry green stationary hurricane is tearing the sky over a mountain range. It pulses. The pain in his hand spikes. A green meteor flies out. He doubles over, falling onto the snow, hunching over his arm.
His jailer pulls him up, tells him he will die, unless he helps. Will he? Certainly. Noting still makes sense.
Marched through a village, he is accosted by a mob. Rotten vegetables and clumps of frozen earth pelt his sides. His jailer becomes his shield. Cold, hungry, in pain, and royally confused, he is dragged up a dirt road. Flashes of images stick in his mind: a burning cart, a broken walking stick, rows of bodies laid out on a bridge.
Up, and up, beneath the raging sky they go. The hurricane that’s not — the Breach, they call it — hurls a meteor down the road and later, onto a bridge. He falls in a rain of exploding masonry and wooden crates, his hand curling into a fist in mid-air. And land on his shoulder, hits all his right side, groans. Lucky, he thinks, nothing seems broken. Something strikes the side of his head.
*Xerostomia — dryness in the mouth
