The Land of the Lost

Chapter 10 - Odette

The warmth of the sun seeped through my closed eyelids, pulling me to consciousness. With a groan, I attempted to rise, only to be gently pushed back down by a hand on my shoulder. "It's ok, stay down. The more you move, the worse the pain will be," Louis's voice reached my ears.

Blinking against the brightness, I focused on Louis, who sat beside me with a determined concentration, his nimble fingers delicately maneuvering a needle and thread to mend the torn fabric of my pants. His presence was a steadying force amidst the chaos of my throbbing head and the searing ache in my leg.

"What are you doing?" I managed to rasp out, my voice strained with discomfort.

"Stitching up your wound and attempting to sew your pants, though I'm not good at sewing clothes. But, it's a good thing I brought this medical stuff," he replied, his tone calm yet tinged with urgency.

The softness of the grass beneath me offered some type of comfort that clashed with the sharpness of the pain coursing through my body. I glanced around, noting the absence of the vibrant flowers that had surrounded me earlier, replaced now by the serene expanse of greenery stretching out before us.

"Why does everything want to kill me and not you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Louis hesitated, as if he knew the answer to that question. "I don't know," his response came, though I chose not to question further. "Alright, all done," he announced, a sense of accomplishment evident in his voice as he finished his work.

As I slowly sat up,  and saw the wonky looking stitches on my pants from Louis's attempt at sewing. I watched as he began to pack up his supplies, his movements purposeful yet hurried. "You will have some pain for a while but it will go away; we should get going," he suggested, extending a supportive hand to help me rise from the ground.

***

The dense canopy overhead blocked any glimpse of the sky above. Each step we took seemed to sink into the earth, the forest floor blanketed with such a thick layer of fallen leaves and tangled roots that threatened to trip us at every turn. Shafts of dim light struggled to penetrate the thick foliage, leaving the forest shrouded in an eerie twilight, even though it was actually daytime.

As we ventured deeper into the heart of the woodland, the air grew heavy with the earthy scent of damp soil and decaying vegetation. The silence deathly, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of an unseen bird.

My senses were on high alert, every rustle and whisper setting my nerves on edge. When I heard the faint shuffling in the bushes, my hand instinctively reached for the bow strapped to my back, the cold metal a reassuring weight in my grip. Louis glanced back at me, concern etched into his features, his eyes scanning the surrounding shadows for any sign of danger.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and cautious.

"I heard something," I murmured, my heart pounding in my chest.

Louis offered a reassuring smile, though the tension in his posture showed his unease. "Maybe you're just a little jumpy from what happened earlier," he said, his words a failed attempt to kill the atmosphere that seemed to close in around us. "I'm sure it's nothing."

But even as he spoke, the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for some unseen force to reveal itself in the shadows. And in that moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were not alone, that something lurked in the darkness, watching, and waiting.

As the dense underbrush parted, revealing a small figure darting between the trees, my heart leapt into my throat. A gnome? The creature had vivid purple hair that seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Standing barely four feet tall, he exuded an air of frantic energy as he caught sight of us and took off in a panicked sprint.

Without hesitation, I lunged forward, my muscles burning with adrenaline as I chased after the tiny figure through the many twists and turns of the forest. Yet, despite my best efforts, Louis still surged ahead, his long strides effortlessly eating up the distance between us and the fleeing gnome.

With each step, the forest seemed to blur into a kaleidoscope of shadows and foliage, the thud of our footfalls echoing through the ancient trees. Branches whipped past, clawing at my clothes and stinging my skin, but still, I pressed on.

Finally, we cornered the gnome between two towering oaks, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he cowered against the rough bark. "Please don't hurt me," he pleaded, his voice trembling with fear.

For a moment, I stood frozen in disbelief, the reality of the situation sinking in. This creature could talk? And he seemed genuinely terrified of us.

"We aren't gonna hurt you," I assured him, my voice gentle yet firm. "Who are you?"

The gnome's blue eyes flickered with fear as he cautiously regarded us. "My name is George," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I am from a village not too far from here."

"A village?" Louis's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yes, it's called Foxwood," George confirmed, his gaze darting nervously between us. "I can take you there if you would like, we don't get many outside visitors."

Louis and I exchanged a glance, silently weighing our options. Could we trust this mysterious gnome?

"We would like that very much," I replied at last, extending a hand of trust towards George.