A World of Fragile Things

The sounds of nature greeted the girl’s ears in symphony when she came to. Her cheek was pressed into the ground. She sucked air in through her lips, relishing the crispness of it in her lungs. Slowly, she rolled herself onto her back and flung her arms out beside her. She stretched her muscles, which moaned sorely beneath her skin. Small blades of grass tickled her palms. The girl did not yet open her eyes, for she feared the forest’s song would be ruined by a sight less beautiful than implied. The girl’s mind remained clouded, foggy, and blank. She waited for her memories to come flooding back, to fill her with knowledge of the night before. They ebbed teasingly at her consciousness, but pulled away before she could get any real grasp on them. Seconds dripped into minutes, and minutes integrated into hours, but she could not recall where she was from, or how she got to where she was now.
One memory stood tersely in her mind. I am Neva.