She lay on her back in a strangely blissful solitude, her eyes wide open, and still fully a part of the outer world. She was aware she had come up against a most inconceivable thing. The wounds felt mortal. Her mind stretched to the unthinkable, she was dying.
Above her it seemed a million stars twinkled like diamonds in the broad black velvet sky. The sharp desert air was pungent with the scent of wet sage and heavy with the coppery smell of blood. A creek flowed lazily somewhere nearby and insects twittered. It could have been any ordinary warm summer night if it weren’t for the fact she was lying there, cut open, wet like she’d never felt wet before. Wet with her own blood, thick and sticky. She felt ice cold. It was the loss of the blood still leaking from her body that chilled her.
She awoke with a start. She heard sounds she had never heard before. Not human sounds, but not quite animal sounds. The sounds came from deep suffering, the very essence of suffering. Something like keening, wailing, moaning. She turned her attention to locating where the dreadful sounds came from, only to realize after a few moments they were coming from her. She became aware of the passing of time, aware time was life. The awful sounds stopped. She sighed heavily and felt herself tumbling into the blackness.
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