Dungeon Crawling and Coffee Brewing
Sam’s eye’s burst open. He shot upright breathing heavily and dripping cold sweat. His eyes flicked back and forth across a darkened room.
“Am I alive?” he asked between gasps.
…
A hoof slammed into his side. “Oh no. It didn’t hurt! I’m dead!”
“Oh good, I think he’s awake.”
The door cracked open and the sudden introduction of light caused Sam’s retina’s to burn like a thousand suns. Ow, good pain! He wasn’t dead. Slapping his own eyes with his hooves confirmed that. Oh, right he had those now.
“Oh, my are you all right?” A sweet young ladies voice asked.
“He better be the doctor just left.” Another voice male and gruff followed up.
Slowly Sam opened his eyes to allow them to adjust to the light. Staring into a pair of bright blue eyes only two maybe three inches from his own. He flung himself back only to hit his head off of a wall, still not feeling the blow beyond a slight adjustment in pressure.
“Oh, I’m sorry please calm down everything will be fine now.” The pair of baby blues said in a soothing tone as she gently stroked his chest. At least it felt gentle but given a punch in the side didn’t phase him she may have been trying to crush his sternum and he wouldn’t know the difference.
She slowly pulled back and the second thing he noticed as she did was the cream colored fur, and that’s definitely what it was, around her eyes. As the distance grew he was also able to take in other details like that she had a muzzle, then caught on to her ears sticking off the top of her head. Once her full body came into view he confirmed that she was quadrupedal as well. With a lilac mane and tail. Yep, his rescuer was a talking pastel, horse. He noticed right above her leg was also a picture of what looked like the upper half of a heart sticking out of a basket.
Well, there went the high off his balls theory. Which meant he had three options left. He was in a coma and this was all some strange dream, unlikely seeing as how he was pretty sure you couldn’t pass out and wake up in a dream. At least he didn’t think he ever had. He had died and hell was just like the normal world except for unusually intelligent birds and everyone was a talking horse. Again, he doubted it. Or the seemingly ridiculous but honestly most plausible theory his, admittedly recently almost drowned, mind could produce. He had somehow ended up in the world of a children's cartoon that he had only ever watched with his niece.
…
“Are you alright?” She asked again snapping him to. “You’ve just been kind of… staring at my flank.”
Sam had the decency to turn his head and take a sudden interest in the curtains. He didn’t trust himself to come up with a good story so he just went with the truth. “I’m still a little fuzzy.”
Technically true. He had actually thought for a second he was talking to a.
“Oh I’m certain anypony would be with all the pain killers the doctor had to give you.” She said with total sincerity. “You were, or actually still are, in quite rough shape.”
“Yeah,” Sam answered his mouth feeling a little dry.
That explained the lack of agony when he struck himself, except for the eyes. He assumed it would probably take quite a bit of morphine before you could not feel a punch in the eyeball. Well, the bad news was that meant this probably wasn’t a coma dream. But hey being high was back on the table. God, what kind of day was he having when possibly being pumped full of enough painkillers to hallucinate was the best case scenario. Sam tried to stand.
“No!” She shouted putting both hooves, hands maybe that pressure didn’t seem like any shape that would be comfortable to make with your hands, on his shoulders. “You need to rest, the doctor said not to let you out of bed.”
“Miss De La Creme perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning.” The male voice said.
Sam turned his head to see the third party. The stallion was azure coated with a black mane and tail. He had a black waistcoat and white shirt on and his flank had a picture of a half-open silver serving tray.
“My name is Bitsworth.” The stallion said holding a hoof to his own chest. Then stretching his foreleg out to indicate the other person, err pony in the room. “This is the lady Creme De La Creme.”
“Ah okay,” Sam answered. They both stared at him silently. The sound of ticking in the background alerted him that yes there was some kind of clock in the room. Bitsworth raised an eyebrow and coughed.
“You okay?” Sam asked tilting his head and looking at Bitsworth.
“Your name sir,” Bitsworth said sounding exasperated.
“Oh right my name right, that,” Sam said nodding as he tried to think. Okay well, either the crazy magic idea was true in which case the name Sam Jones would stick out like a sore thumb, or he was hallucinating. Hmm. Real name or weird alias.
“Maybe you should go get the doctor he seems a little, addled,” Creme said getting up in his face again looking rather worried.
Oh, right conversation. Uh, name. He saw his fluffy cloud-like tail popping out from under a blanket. Huh tail, cloud, horse things, Hasbro. Storm Shadow! No wait wasn’t that the villain in the movie. Ah, he only saw that with a group of screaming kids. Still better not to go around using the same name as the pony world Darth Sauron.
“Squall… Shade.” He said. Hey if this whole thing was a hallucination he could just right it off as thinking he was a JRPG character in his drug-induced haze, and they could all just have a big laugh about it afterward.
“Well, mister Shade it’s nice to meet you.” She said with a gentle smile. “and now that we’re all acquainted would you like to know what the doctor said?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He admitted.
“Well, the doctor says you’re actually surprisingly well for someone who almost drowned,” Creme said clearly trying to make near death soundless unpleasant. “The worst injuries were the torn muscles in your wings one of which was dislocated. Apparently, they aren’t meant to fight strong currents like that.”
Sam nodded along to show he was listening.
“Other than that you apparently got the water out of your lungs fast enough that there shouldn’t be any lasting damage, and your legs also have some torn muscles for the same reason as your wings but much less so. All in all, you only need to stay in bed and rest for three days.” She finished with a big smile.
Three days. He couldn’t stay curled up in a bed for three days. He had to… to… Well get home was the obvious answer but given that he was in a strangers house, in what he was pretty sure was another universe.
“Mr. Shade.”
Hell, the shock and drugs were probably the only reasons he wasn’t hyperventilating. He was almost certainly going to have some kind of nervous break down once all this wore off. Okay, no focus Sam. Focus, getting home is priority number one.
“Squall.”
Okay so step one learn magic. … Wait can’t only the unicorns do that?
“Equestria to Squall.”
Okay, step one find a unicorn, wow was it weird to think that seriously, and get them to, believe a story about being from another universe. Crap!
“Squall!”
Sam fell out of bed as Bitsworth shouted the name into his ear.
“What was that for?” Sam whined.
“It’s rude not to answer when someone repeatedly calls your name.” The butler said looking cross.
Sam blinked and looked to the Creme who gave him an apologetic smile. “I did try a few times.”
Why would? Oh, wait they were using an alias he wasn’t used too. He should probably start trying to think of himself by that name. It would be pretty obvious it was fake if he kept not responding to it. For now though. “Sorry must still be a little out of it. What did you want?”
“I was asking if you were hungry,” Creme said.
As if in response to the question Sam… er Squall’s stomach growled.
“Actually yeah, I haven’t eaten since.” He tried to think of when he had actually last eaten. “Haven’t eaten for a while now.”
“Wonderful I shall go attempt to wipe something up. Bitsworth would you be so kind as to help Mr. Shade back into bed. We don’t want him overtaxing himself now.” She said prancing out of the room.
Bitsworth walked calmly around the bed and shoved his head up under Sam. The butler lifted him with surprising ease and laid him in the bed rather gingerly. He grabbed the blanket with his mouth and draped it over the injured guest. “I shall go attend to the lady and see that she does not set the kitchen on fire making a salad again, But first is there anything else you would like before I leave.”
“Actually two things real quick, one could you open those curtains it’s little dark.” Sam, Squall he reminded himself, asked nodding his head to a window he had only notice when he was getting put back in bed.
“Certainly,” Bitsworth answered, quickly trotted across the room and pulled a rope splitting the drapes apart. The light showed it was already day again. He got a better view of the room as well now that it was well lit. In addition to the bed, he was laid out on the room had a hardwood floor with the center covered with a burgundy throw rug. A wardrobe made of polished mahogany sat in the corner of the room, odd unless it was the butler’s. Lastly in one corner of the room was a small wooden desk with a typewriter atop it and a stack of paper ready for use. To its side, a small wastebasket overflowing with crumpled papers.
“And your other request sir?” Bitsworth asked. “If you can find time could please scrounge me up a book or something. I’m going to be stuck in bed for three days, after all, I need something to do.”
“Of course sir. Any preferences?” The butler replied.
“Local legends on the off chance you’ve got something like that, I’m a bit of a nerd for stuff like that.” Unconfirmed rumors weren’t the best way to gather information but he was kind of strapped for options here. “Or you know an adventure story or two if that’s not an option.”
“I shall see what I can.”
“Bitsworth help!”
“Coming!” The butler galloped out of the room at a breakneck pace.
Well, this was going to be fun. Hunting down ways to jump realities. Despite not having even the baseline abilities needed to use whatever he might find. Without being able to tell anyone since even in a world of magical talking ponies and intelligent birds with pointer feathers, “Hey I’m from a reality where you’re all a children's television show” would probably sound a little absurd. Especially after he got through explaining what television was. Meaning he was all on his own for this. All of which might be less of a problem if he had the slightest idea where to even begin.
“The watermelon is on fire?! How is the watermelon of fire!?” Bitsworth’s voice echoed through the halls.
“I don’t know I was just trying to slice it and fwoosh!” Creme screamed in reply.
Well, either way, it wasn’t like he was doing anything for the next three days. Might as well study.
“Sweet Celestia it’s spread to the sink!”
Assuming his hosts didn’t accidentally burn him down before he could even start of course.
-/-
“Captain’s log. Stardate, Thursday. I have been trapped in this place for months.”
“It has been five days.” Bitsworth corrected. “Would have been three if somepony hadn’t insisted on constantly trying to get out of bed.”
Squall glared at the valet.
“Look the doctor will come by again today and assuming you get a clean bill of health you’re free to go.” Bitsworth rolled his eyes and sighed. “Honestly I have never seen a stallion so unwilling to be pampered by a cute, eager, young mare.”
“Well if it seems so fun to you maybe we can switch places, cause I feel like I’m gonna start climbing the walls if I don’t get a chance to start walking around soon.” Squall said. He couldn’t get angry at the stallion he reminded himself. It’s not his fault that there had been no information on how to return to Sam’s own world.
“Certainly, if you don’t mind spending another three days stuck in bed after injuring yourself again doing my job,” Bitsworth answered dryly.
“Curse you and your filthy logic.” Squall answered glaring flatly.
The self-satisfied look on Bitsworth face had almost been enough to get a shoddily scrawled journal pitched at him. At that moment the door had been flung open and by Creme and a white coat clad pony, sparring Bitsworth the wrath of the captain's log.
“Well, I trust you have avoided too much exertion this time.” Doctor Hock, the gray-maned mare in the coat, said giving Squall the stink eye.
“I haven’t left the bed since your last visit.” He answered honestly, seeing as how he had been tied to the thing with several rolls of cloth bandages by his hostess.
“Good then let’s get this over with.” The doc said with an annoyed glare. She then walked over and started poking him in the shoulder. No stabbing jolts of pain good. She continued prodding various spots on his limbs and bending most of his joints with various hums and nods. “Alright looks like your legs are reasonably healed, you can get up and walk around again but you should still avoid any movement faster than a trot or any real hard labor for another couple of days. Your right wing, however, will likely take another week before you can expect to fly again.”
“Well, thanks for telling me before I injured it, again,” Sam answered. Great now he had a legitimate excuse for why he didn’t go flying everywhere.
“I’m also going to advise against any more impromptu swims in the Hayson.” She continued with a stern look into his eyes.
“No problem.” He nodded, and it wouldn’t be. Why if Sam had any say in it he would never go swimming in any body of water larger than a kiddie pool again.
“Well, then I believe we’re done here.” The doctor turned to Creme and said. “You’ll get my bill in the mail.”
“Thank you Doctor Hock,” Creme said with a smile and nod. “Would you like a cookie before you leave, Bitsworth just made them.”
The doctor followed Creme towards the kitchen. Sam cringed as he watched. Right, the bill. Creme was footing that, and his food, and his bed, and. Yeah, he really needed to find a way to make that up to her.
“Well I hope you don’t live in Cloudsdale,” Bitsworth said with a chuckle.
“Yeah not getting there anytime soon.” Sam gave a weak chuckle. Oh, right he had no home. The cabin fever had actually made him forget. Jesus that’s where he was at right now, homeless jobless, injured, and with no idea where he should go or what he should do. Well, he was sure things could be worse. He could be in the river again.
…
Yes, he had reached the point where slow suffocation in was basically the only way he could think for things to get worse.
“Hey, Bitsworth if you were trying to find out about some obscure magic, like oh say forced long range teleportation, where would you go?” Squall asked.
“Hmm I suppose the royal library in Canterlot,” Bitsworth replied with a sideways glance. “And I presume that would be where you’re heading next isn’t it.”
“You presume correctly.” Well, at least he had a starting point. Had to wonder how long it would take to walk from, what was this place called again oh right, Manehatten to Canterlot. Also on the wonder list, why every city’s name was a horse pun.
“Well, then I suppose I shall inform Ms. De La Creme that we shall be escorting you to the train station.” The butler started to trot off.
“Well, the problem with that is all my money was lost in the river.” Sam lied. He was starting to get way too comfortable with doing that already. “So I was actually hoping if you knew anyplace that was hiring crippled pegasuses.”
“Pegasi, and I’m afraid not.” Bitsworth shook his head.
“Ah well, long shot anyway,” Sam said already thinking of how to get some money for a newspaper. Help wanted adds might provide something.
“Actually I do have a job in need of doing.” Creme’s voice came from the doorway.
Sam looked up to see his host smiling at him from the doorway.
“As it happens the night we met I was just finishing up arrangements for a small charity event.” She continued. “A concert to earn money to rebuild a local firehouse.”
“What happened to it?” Squall asked.
“Burned down.” She answered.
“Well that’s, Never mind what’s the job?” Sam asked.
“Oh nothing to difficult, You just have to see to the needs of the performers. Fetch them what they need, keep their rooms tidy, inform them when it’s almost time for the show, simple things.” She said with a look towards her valet. “Honestly I was simply going to ask Bitsworth but he’s been working so hard looking after you and doing his usual duties I think he has earned an evening's rest don’t you Squall?”
“I assure you I am more than capable.” Bitsworth looked decidedly unamused.
“Oh relax I’ll be more than happy to take a little work off your back. Besides If I didn’t find something to do soon I’d probably go crazy anyway.” Squall said. “I’ll take that offer.”
“Excellent the Concert is two nights from now. I’ll show you where to find the hall and I expect you there a good five hours before the event to get things ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He answered with a salute. Well, this wasn’t too bad he had a nice easy job working as a gopher. Honestly, what could possibly go wrong with that?
Author's Note
Yes, Sam's narration is going to bounce between calling him Sam and Squall for a few chapters. It seemed like having a guy with no real experience at this pretending to be other people seamlessly switch into using an alias without any trouble was a little wierd
Journey to the ... well one of those directions
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Dungeon Crawling and Coffee Brewing
Journey to the ... well one of those directions
The first thing Sam noticed as he came to he woke was a feeling like a train running through his head. He slowly opened his eyes only to snap them shut as a bright light flooded his view.
“Why am I outside?” He mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes. He slowly became aware of how hot the sun felt on his skin. Rolling over onto his stomach so his head wasn’t facing the sky he noticed the sun seemed to be in the middle of the sky. “Noon and, Argh my head, What did I drink last night?”
Wait a minute. Had he even been drinking? No, it was the middle of the week and he had work the next morning. He had just gone to the drive-thru for a quick bite after realizing he had nothing at home. Then it started to rain on his way back, and oh god had he crashed his car. Bolting upright he looked for a pile of twisted steel wreckage only to find none. He was in a completely empty field. Not but grass and wildflowers were anywhere in sight.
This was rather strange seeing as how Sam didn't even live near a field like this. It should have been thickets of trees or a yard with someone's house in it. He bolted to his feet and tried to walk. Only to immediately lose his balance and fall forward, instinctively raising his arms to catch himself. That was when he noticed the lack of hands, on his fuzzy navy colored arms. His brain tried to process this fact.
He had fuzzy blue forelegs ending in a black, or no it was actually just really dark gray, hooves. He thought about what this could be. His mouth, being a good two steps ahead of his brain by now, reacted much quicker.
“What the actual hay!?” Sam yelled at the top of his lungs. Wait hay? “Hay, buck, Horse Apples!”
What the hell. Oh hey, he could swear in his head still, but apparently not out of his mouth.
…
Well that was, strange. On the bright side, that little oddity seemed to have brought him out of his shock. Yay. Sam started to inspect his body. Craning his neck he found that he now had a navy furred horse torso where his pink, mostly hairless human torso should have been. Sticking off of his butt was a long tail, a few shades of gray lighter than the hooves he had where his hands should have been. The tail was curled and poofy, looking a little like a storm cloud. On his sides were a pair of feathery wings, okay he wasn’t a zoologist or anything but he was pretty sure birds didn’t have four legs with hooves, and he was equally certain no ungulates had wings. But somehow the wings and navy fur were not the weirdest part of his anatomy.
No that went to the drawing on his sides, butt, whatever that part of his body was called. It looked like an X drawn by using a rolled-up scroll as one line and a lightning bolt for the other. The bright white and yellow being rather obvious the way they clashed against his overall darker colored body.
“Alright, what the hay was in that burger?" He wondered aloud, more to fill the silence than anything.
No, he could handle this. Stay calm, stay calm. He took a few slow deep breaths while counting backward from ten. It didn't bother him, It didn't bother him.
…
It bothered him! It bothered him a lot! How? What? Why? How?
"Why in the Tartarus am I a blue horse!?" Sam yelled so loud that a flock of birds he hadn't even noticed before scattered past him. One whipping right into his face and leaving him sputtering a cloud of feathers. He shook his head rapidly to get the bird's molt off his face. The bird in question which had crashed at his hooves, god that was going to take getting used to, gave him a sheepish look. How a bird's eyes did that without a movable brow was a question for another day.
“Okay calm down," Sam ordered himself. "The first rule of wilderness survival is to not panic, now situation, I'm alone in the middle of the wilderness with no idea where civilization is, I have somehow become a winged blue horse, well haven't seen my head could be a deer, and I'm without food or water. The situation looks really bleak."
Well, that was depressing. No focus. "Okay just gotta find a water source. Civilization is usually built near flowing water so if I can find a river or something, that will be my best chance at finding my way to a populated area."
The bird flew back up into his face. He almost swatted at it out of reflex but before he could it grabbed his hair, also gray and poofy, and pulled him. What was it doing? As if in answer of his silent query the bird curled it’s feathers like fingers, again pretty sure birds shouldn’t be able to do that, and pointed in the direction it was pulling. Completely lacking in any other options Sam hazarded a guess,
“You want me to follow you?”
The bird nodded in confirmation. Okay following a bird that was honestly two expressive and intelligent, in a direction that could be exactly the wrong way, while possibly drugged and alone in the woods somewhere. Welp, it was crazy but it wasn't like he had any better options. Besides a pleasant stroll through nature could be just what the doctor ordered.
-/-
“Nature can take a flying leap off a cliff!” Sam shouted at the babbling brook.
Seriously, he had run into problems right out the gate. First, off it turns out walking with four legs when you're used to using two meant actively thinking about the order in which he had to move his legs. Which in turn led to tripping over his own feet when he stopped focusing on that long enough to make sure he hadn't lost his guide. Then he had gotten the absolutely brilliant idea of trying out those wings. Because hey, not like flying could be harder than walking right? He had spent the next fifteen minutes having very awkward introductions to the ground, mostly face first. Eventually, he had gotten walking down to the point that he could mostly travel in a straight line without tripping over his own feet automatically.
That was when his new bird friend, currently dubbed pidgey for convenience, had led him into the forest. He then had to master turning. Which had led him to him avoiding one tree only to stumble into another, dodge a gopher hole only to trip into a thorn bush, or climb a small hill only to have to slide down, chafing his backside raw along the way, because he couldn’t properly balance with his backside higher up than his head. But that wasn’t the worst part oh no, that esteemed title went to the bugs. Flies, midges, gnats, and mosquitoes, and only a fluffy tail for defense against the tiny vampiric hordes. At least only a tail after he realized that swatting an insect with a hoof was going to get him something far worse than mere itching. And now after hours of plunging through this nightmare all he had to show for it was a small stream that would lead him to a larger stream that might, possibly, if he was lucky, lead him to a populated area, before exhaustion, illness, or a bear got him. So yeah. Fuck Nature.
Well, might as well take a drink. Wait, no. Considering his luck so far this water was probably contaminated, better check. He peered into the flowing stream, alright it was moving so that was a good start. The problem now was that it was really clear, almost to clear, like there's arsenic flowing out of a mine upstream killing all the fish and algae and what not clear. He turned to Pidgey. The bird preened himself apparently having decided that his work here was done.
A splash to the side caught his attention, a fish had just jumped. That meant something could live in this water. Which meant someone could live on this water. First good new he'd had all day. Plunging his face into the cool stream he drank deeply like a man who had just wandered out of the desert into the land of plenty. He hadn’t actually realized just how dry his throat had been up till this point. Now though, it almost felt like it would actually crack from the sudden reintroduction of liquid. He guzzled until the growling in his belly quieted only to be replaced by the gentle sloshing of his overly filled stomach. He might get dysentery for that rash decision but right then and there he couldn’t imagine regretting it.
With his thirst quenched and his a newly restored sense of optimism, he felt like he could take on the world. But first thing first. How to get down this river without more godforsaken walking. Seriously his legs felt like they were on fire, that was in an oven, that had been dumped into an active volcano, on the sun. Hmm well, he was going to follow the current maybe he could try swimming. He stuck a single leg into the flowing water. It felt like submerging into ice, goosebumps cover his leg and he stumbles back falling squarely on his rump.
On second thought sitting in the water for a long period of time might get him sick, or just cause him to drown if he fell asleep. Maybe there was a better idea. He looked around the immediate area, a couple of fallen logs a few vines. Yes, he could work with this.
Several hours, three failed attempts, and a very long bathroom break latter he had managed to successfully bind five logs together to make a crude raft. Doing it with his mouth had been difficult but around the second attempt, he found he could use his wings like clumsy hands to hold the logs in place.
“I hereby christen thee the Polished Turd.” Sam declared smacking the raft with a pine cone in loo of a champagne bottle. He had heard somewhere it was bad luck to sail a nameless ship, and with the day he was having he decided it was better not to chance it by refusing to do something so easy. He picked up a long sturdy branch that he had singled out for steering in his teeth and hopped aboard the mediocre at best vessel. Placing the branch down he bowed to the bird and said. “Pidgey thank you for all your help.”
The bird saluted.
"Now I must away on my this my proud vessel's maiden voyage. Wish me luck and fare thee well." Sam said picking the stick back up and trying to ignore the possibility that stress was driving him insane. With a little help from his wings, he pushed off on his journey into the great unknown.
-/-
The night didn't so much fall as it just kind of happened. Like one minute it was practically noon the next bam dead of night. This while strange was not what took up most of Sam's attention, however.
"Well, horse apples. Do I land and make camp for the night risking sleeping alone and unprotected in the woods, or take my chances sailing in the dark?" Sam asked aloud. He had taken to talking to himself over the course of the journey if only to break the monotonous silence. Well, the moon was full so it was pretty bright. So he should be fine as long as he paid careful attention right.
Sam picked up his stick and steered towards the center of the river. He settled into a comfortable seated position, sitting with his sides facing the front and back of the raft with his back to the starboard. Then stick in mouth drifted with the current. His raft approached where his smaller river came to meet a larger body of water. As he did so a wall of bright light like the noonday sun became visible in the distance. He recognized it instantly as a city. With victory on the horizon and a renewed vigor, he placed the stick upon his raft. Turning his back to his destination he raised his wings behind him and flapped as hard as he could. Using the wind to propel him faster towards the shining beacon of hope.
After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, he finally pulled close enough that he could make out his location. It had a great bridge spanning the massive river he had drifted into. The skyline was bright even in the dead of night like the rising of the sun at the end of a movie, signifying the end of the hero's journey. Even the smell coming off the water was subtly different. The smell of dirty city water had never smelled so good in his life. The sheer joy of seeing civilization after being lost in the woods was even enough to make him forget the burning in his wings. What it didn’t hide was the blinding light from the side.
“All right whose ruining.” He petered off as he turned to see a trash barge coming right at him. What couldn’t they see… his tiny lightless raft in the middle of this dark water. Shit, shit, shit!
Sam turned quickly desperate to get another burst of wind going, losing his balance and falling to his side. A loud foghorn went off and he saw the barge all but on top of him. With a desperate last push, he forced his one free wing to flap as hard as he could. The force of the wind off his desperate flapping propelled him forward, his breath coming in gasps and pants as he pushed himself harder than he thought possible.
The sound of wood scraping against metal set a chill down his spine. He looked at the barge afraid of what he might see. The large boat, was just beneath his raft only just making contact. Sam closed his eyes let out a sigh of relief and then felt his raft rock. His eyes snapped back open to see the bottom of his raft now higher than he was. A wave in the wake of the much larger boats passing. Sam felt as though his legs had been plunged into ice. His stomach lurched as the raft flipped over dropping him beneath the cold waves. He gasped desperately only to cough and sputter as his lungs filled with icy water. The raft which had brought him now blocking the light above him. The current fought to drag him down even as he wildly flailed his limbs in a desperate attempt to surface. His limbs felt like lead, his head felt fuzzy, and the edges of his vision started to go dark.
So this was it. This was how it all ended. Drowning after falling off a raft mere minutes from civilization.
…
Horse shit! His wings burned and fought him as he forced them through the water. He strained his eyes to find the brightest light he could still make out. The massive feathers dragged as he aimed for the surface. The current pushing him ever downwards into the icy, black depths. Then with all the strength, he could muster he flapped. The force propelled him forwards but not enough to reach the surface. He started to descend again even as he fought the current to bring his wings forth once more. His vision continued to darken but he had what he needed. A single pinprick of light.
He forced his burning muscles to push himself further and further. Gaining on the surface with each stroke. His lungs burned for air, and his wings felt like they were about to snap clean off. With a final all or nothing push he burst free from the chilled waters below. The sheer force of his last desperate attempt had launched him into the air. With his feathers soaked through there was no way to control his fall, or even slow himself. If he landed back in the water that was it. He wouldn’t have the strength to pull this off again.
He felt the wind whipping at his drenched form as he rocketed through the air. He eyes unable to make out any details as the lack of oxygen finally started to overtake him. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of coughing and something liquid coming out of his mouth. He lay back and gazed up to a dark silhouette the last thing he saw before blacking out.
