the pumpkin sun is high

He awoke slowly, his slumber uninterrupted by insistent alarm clocks or hungry minipets sniffing at his face. The silence around him was as absolute as he had ever known silence to be. Only the rare whisper of a breeze through overgrown grass marred its perfection.

Brenley opened his eyes to blue sky. It was far brighter than he could ever remember Halloween having been, so unbearably dazzling that he had to close his eyes again for a moment to adjust. He eventually blinked them open once more, turning his cheek closer to the dirt. Now there was the Halloween he knew. Spindly branches stretched in a sparse canopy overhead, and an overgrown, blackened field took up most of the land further away. Past the field a patchwork town was visible on the horizon, its strange structures and muted colors inviting to the boil. He made an immediate mental note to go there. Now all he had to do was get up.

It took him another hour to rise to his feet. When he moved, he found that he had somehow obtained an injury that, while shallow, was quite long and broad, stretching from just below his armpit on the left side, all the way down to mid-calf. Between the abrasion itself and the presence of fresh tire tracks in the dirt, Bren was fairly certain he had been dragged, but by what or whom he could not recall.

After patching up his side with some spotty FEAR-healing and several bandages he'd found in a nearby bag, the reaper finally stood, his stance a great deal more solid than he thought it would be. Much as he couldn't remember his injury's source, he couldn't recall how he had arrived here. He assumed it had something to do with the dragging.

Now that he was on his feet, Bren noticed another, smaller structure between himself and the town. It was pale against the dark grass, and although he was curious about it, he was still more interested in what he might find in the huddled collection of buildings further on.

"I'll just stop there on my..." He sighed. His voice was scratchier than he remembered, as if he'd been screaming or just out of practice at speaking. Bren stretched his arms gingerly over his head, turning slowly just to make sure he was alone. "Good. I'll continue then." He had a habit of talking to himself while he experimented with enchanting. It was soothing. If there was no one around now, he didn't see the harm in continuing the practice.

"Bag." The satchel where he'd found the bandages was lying in the dirt and he picked it up and dusted it off, a sense of comfort settling over him as he secured it across his chest. His bags and pouches made him feel productive, but they were missing here, so he had to improvise. "Time to head out... there. Find where everyone is."

It unnerved him a little that he couldn't remember what had happened. He needed to find someone else to explain things.

[ continued in all the birds are singing ]