It was an accident

16.

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Amelia barely noticed when her emotions became little more than a muted hum in the background of her mind. Cold analysis wrapped around her with the welcome comfort of a weighted blanket. The sensation was almost identical to the calm that she faintly remembered enveloping her when she had hit the rocks all those centuries ago. 

She moved for the first time in what felt like ages, stepping back and to the side as she looked up. Amelia noted the lack of water swirling and splashing as she moved, coming to the conclusion that she was still levitating over the water. It was a strange feeling, she would swear that she could feel a smooth floor beneath her. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't felt the dirt or grass from her previous surroundings under her bare feet either, just a smooth, cold floor.

With a shake of her head, Amelia decided to file away that observation for later. For now, she shifted her gaze upwards to the place she had fallen from so many centuries ago. As she looked upwards, the protective apathy loosened. Sweden... Her pappa, was screaming, trying to reach down for her as her farbröder held onto him just as fiercely, keeping him from falling over the edge as well. Amelia felt her emotions tug at the shroud of cold analysis that wrapped around her so protectively. She continued to stare upwards, and felt the frigid shroud fall to her feet in a heap as she caught sight of the tears that dripped down her pappa's face, following his screams down after his daughter. They were just barely visible from where she stood, at least 200 feet away, glistening in the remaining orange light like fiery diamonds as they fell. 

Her emotions slammed back into her chest, forcing salty liquid to gather in her eyes. She just continued to stare, refusing to blink and let her tears fall. Amelia knew the other nations were watching, the number was uncertain, but she knew they were there on the other side of an unseen rift, just like she had been nearly eight decades ago. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be seen as weak, and she certainly wasn't going to allow her fa- ... England the pleasure of knowing he had hurt her.

The rift faded to black, but Amelia kept her head tilted back, still staring at the spot in the nonexistent sky where the image of Sweden had leaned over the edge of the cliff. Was it because she wanted to see him again, to call him pappa and allow herself to be enveloped by his warm hug? ... Maybe, she wasn't quite sure. Was it to buy time for her tears to dry before they could fall? Definitely.

As she finally lowered her gaze back to eye-level, her surroundings finally began to fill in with colorful objects and structures once more. 

The midday sun trickled in through the mamateek's entrance, falling upon a young girl's face and catching her in the eye as she stirred. She made little noise as she opened her cerulean eyes, brushing curly black hair out of her face while she tiredly searched for the source of the soft humming she could hear. Her mind was cloudy, she didn't remember falling asleep, nor did she remember coming to Beothuk's land. A soft noise crept from her throat when her hand hit something warm and moist on her face. Amayeli furrowed her brows slightly, wincing when that small motion caused a pain to shoot through the right side of her face.

Many quiet sounds surrounded Amayeli: the twitter of birds, the hushed noise of wind passing through trees, and the soft chatter of people outside. All of those sounds were muffled by distance, which made it all the more noticeable when the soft humming from across the mamateek ceased. In its place was sudden shifting as someone moved closer. Amayeli began to turn her head to the source of the movement, but a gentle hand found its way to her chin, effectively stopping her. The small girl opened her mouth a sliver to speak, but was countered again.

"Shhh, Ama, don't move yet," a female voice crooned. There was more shifting before the girl came into view.

"Mi'kmaq?" Amayeli questioned, surprising herself with the poor state of her voice, it might as well have been some old woman who had spoken. She cleared her throat, hoping to clear some of the hoarseness from her voice, wincing once more when a pain shot through her sore throat. The girl felt as if she had gargled gravel, or screamed until her voice gave out, but she didn't remember doing either of those things.