The Monster of Monte Monastery

Lilith

She opens her eyes. 

"Miss? Miss, can you hear me?"

Eyes unfocused, but open - she could see a mop of dark hair, the outline of a lip and straight eyebrows, dark, a boy? The voice before had a broady English accent, not from here, then. Deep, a little older than her, his face the weathered tan of a sailor's. 

Lilia feels wet and dirty and sticky. The mist is thick enough that she can't see it, but she can feels mud everywhere, in her hair, between her nails, caking her bare feet, smeared and dry enough to come off in flakes from her face.  Sinking in the mud, her dress making squelching sound with the muck, Lilia's head is throbbing. The stranger is covered in mud too, though not as bad as her and his arms were steady though his eyes were shaking, slightly. He's been trying to wake her up for a while. There was a a strange comfort in his voice, of someone reliable, loyal.

Thank you she thinks, but her  lips wouldn't move, so she blinked.

She sees him clearly now. It's dark, but she could tell his hair is brown. His eyes are blue, and they widen when she makes eye contact.

Plip. Shiny  crystal drop lands on her nose, followed by another, another and soon it rains steadily, cleaning the mud from both their faces.

Rain poured harder and it becomes a storm. It's cold enough that she passes out, the stranger immobile like a statue. Before her eyes flutter shut, she feels him lift her up and start walking, towards the twinkling lights of Mont Abbey.