Prompt 158
Breathing is difficult. That's his first thought, as he is gently dug out from the dirt. His ribs sting, his lungs creak as they attempt to exhale, and his fingers grip the closest thing to them, digging in as hard as they can, but the arm never falters. His nails are dirty. There's still dirt under them. He can't even imagine what the rest of him must look like. The man who dug him out props him up, and rubs his back until breathing feels easier. More natural. Like something he's always done. The man who dug him out gently strokes his face, his hair, his body, and he lets the man do it. It feels nice. He thinks the man is checking for something, but he doesn't know what. "I know it hurts.." The man's voice gravels out. It didn't hurt, really. It was just kind of rough. "Do you remember how to chew? You need to eat." The man says all these confusing words, calloused hands running gently over his jaw. The man takes red little balls out of his bag of supplies, and begins gently pressing them into his mouth. He can taste. He has a bad taste in his mouth before the vibrant balls of red. Tastes like death. But now there's this explosion of colour and juice and sweetness. He forgot about sweetness. He likes sweetness. The Man fondles his jaw a bit, helping him to do the mysterious "chew" motion, but he quickly picks it up. It's not as hard as breathing. Breathing was very difficult at first. "There.. Fill you up, it's got enough moisture for you. Don't try to drink yet, you'll drown yourself." Oh, all those confusing words of his are back again. None of them make sense. "Let me help you get clean." The man is ripping his clothes off. It makes his fingers and toes go all numb. He tries to tell the man this, but only a little croaking sound comes out. The man is ever so tenderly rubbing a wet cloth all over him. "Is it cold?" It actually very warm. He felt very cold when he was in the dirt. The Man bends his fingers at the bowl of water, and that reminds him that he has his own! He looks at his hands, and slooowly tries to bend his fingers the same way. They struggle at first, but quickly get used to the repeated motion. "I brought you what I thought you'd like. You were always better at it." The Man shows off some clothing. It's nice. It's very bright. Very bright for such new eyes. But there's no dirt. He likes that there's no dirt. The Man helps him into the clothes, and stays with him a while more. He talks a lot. He seems uncomfortable, and like he's reaching for topics, so he tries to help. Slowly... Very slowly... His own words begin to be decipherable. The Man is overjoyed when he begins to blabber at him. The Man lets him talk until the sun begins to rise. "You will go into town. You will give the first building this sack of coin. You will say I want a room for the night." "I waant.. a rhooom... for the niht.." "You're getting so good. You learn so quick. My smart bard." He doesn't understand all of the words, still, but they feel nice. They make him feel warm. "You'll meet a witcher. Don't be scared. He's going to help you. His name is Geralt. He'll help. You have to let him find you."
That was the last thing The Man said before disappearing into the woods. Funny. He may not have remembered how to breathe at first. Or how to chew. Or how to move his fingers. But he remembers Geralt. He knows The Man and Geralt are one in the same. The little cloak he wears does nothing to hide that if you truly know him. He doesn't remember his name. He doesn't remember what a 'bard' is, at the moment. He thinks it'll come back to him, like the breathing, and the chewing, and whatnot. But he remembers Geralt. After all, this isn't the first time Geralt has "found" him after a miraculous resurrection.
