The Creeping Dolls

[ Monster within me, I do not fear you. 

 For within me is the same impulse, 

 That runs within you. 

If you fear, Your claws and teeth will chip oh-so-easily. 

If you feel worthless, 

I'd simply embrace you within my arms. 

Yes, I am the human within you, 

Coward and timid. ]

_______

El Ritch's eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred and sluggish. He blinked once, twice, and slowly dragged a hand toward his chest. Even that simple motion felt laborious, his limbs weighed down as if shackled. No—his whole body was heavy, unyielding.

Beneath him, something soft pressed against his back. A bed, feathered and light, cradling him in a way that felt unnatural after the agony of his fall. His fingers brushed the surface, testing it, rubbing the feathers between his fingertips as if to convince himself it was real. Everything moved in slow, disjointed fragments, his mind adrift and dizzy.

It took time—minutes, maybe longer—for his thoughts to settle into coherence. When they did, his first question rose like bile in his throat: How?

How was he alive?

How was he whole, without broken limbs or bleeding wounds, after plummeting from the sky?

The thought gnawed at him as he lay there, unmoving, too weak to rise. Another hour passed—or at least it felt like one—before he managed to sit up, though even that brought a pounding ache in his skull. He winced, clutching his head as the pain pulsed behind his eyes.

The room swam before him, its details coming into focus slowly, like a fog lifting. He was in a cave. Its walls were rough stone, mottled gray and brown, and the only light came from torches mounted on uneven sconces. The air was damp, carrying the faint scent of moss and smoke. Ahead of him, a single passage led out, long and winding, its darkness impenetrable. No sunlight reached this place.

The realization settled on him like a weight: I'm a captive.

His first instinct was to move, to escape, but the question lingered: How? His legs still felt weak, his head spinning.

That was when he heard it.

Footsteps.

His pulse quickened, a surge of panic overtaking his exhaustion. He froze for an instant before his body betrayed him, flinging him back down onto the feathered bed. He pressed himself against it, feigning unconsciousness, his breath shallow and uneven.

The footsteps grew louder, echoing through the stone passage, each step landing like the toll of a bell. They stopped just outside the chamber, the silence more suffocating than the sound had been.

"You're awake."

The voice was low and measured, carrying a calm authority that set El Ritch's nerves on edge. He didn't respond, keeping his eyes shut and his body still.

"I can hear your breathing," the voice continued, almost amused. "Irregular, uneven. And your eyeballs—moving beneath your lids."

"If you don't get up," the voice said, matter-of-fact and indifferent, "there will be no food."

At that, El Ritch shot up, his body moving before his mind could protest. He sat upright, then knelt instinctively, his hands clutching the bed's edge.

"Eat this."

The woman handed him a small basket of fruit, its contents neatly arranged but unfamiliar. El Ritch stared for a moment, then gave in, taking the food without so much as a thought for poison or drugs. The hunger clawing at his stomach demanded satisfaction. He ate quickly, ravenous, not stopping until the basket was empty.

"You're a jumpy little thing," she said, watching him.

Now that his vision had cleared, he could see her better. She was tall and broad-shouldered, her voice rich and deep, a stark contrast to the blood-red cloth wrapped tightly over her eyes. Her armor, dark leather-probably made from a beast's hide with polished metal inlays, was crafted with care, the work of a master—likely worth more than anything El Ritch had ever seen.

"Thank you for the food," he said, bowing slightly where he knelt, his voice cautious but polite.

"Yes, good manners," she replied dryly, crossing her arms. "You're welcome. Now, pass on the message."

El Ritch froze, his brow furrowing. "What… what message?" he asked, his confusion genuine.

She tilted her head, her lips tightening in a frown. "What message?" she repeated, her tone sharp with suspicion. "Aren't you one of the merchants?"

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head before remembering that she couldn't see him. "I'm not."

For a moment, silence filled the cave. The woman's frown deepened, and she sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "All right, then," she said at last. "Who, exactly, did I save from plummeting to their death?"

El Ritch hesitated. He was too exhausted to lie, so he settled for the simplest answer. "I'm an orphan," he said quietly. "My name is El Ritch. I was… thrown here by mistake."

"That's not how—" she began, then cut herself off with another exasperated sigh. "Never mind."

El Ritch's mind churned. He had to find a way back, no matter how. He was alone in an unknown land, surrounded by strangers with no intention of helping him. For the first time, he felt a dull ache in his chest, a sensation he couldn't name but one that tethered him to a memory. Adeline. He clung to the thought of her, of Aldric.

"The strongest hunter," Adeline had called him. If this woman was a hunter too, surely she would know him.

"Excuse me," El Ritch said, his voice more confident than he felt. The woman turned her head toward him.

"Do you know Mr. Aldric, ma'am?" he asked, his words careful, deliberate.

"You know him? Aldric—Aldric Parker?" The woman's voice was steady, her face an unreadable mask, but El Ritch caught the faint undertone beneath her words. Wary, yes, but there was more. Rage, perhaps. A simmering anger that had not yet boiled over.

El Ritch swallowed hard, his mind racing. Had he chosen the wrong name to invoke? His words felt suddenly dangerous, a spark too close to dry grass. "I… I don't know him by his last name," he stammered.

The woman tilted her head, her mouth tightening into a thin line. "Does he stay with a woman? Her hair…" She paused, her tone shifting almost imperceptibly. "…has strands shaded in purple?"

Adeline. El Ritch nodded quickly, relief washing over him. "Yes. Doctor Adeline."

The woman exhaled sharply, almost a scoff. "The world is smaller than it seems," she muttered, rising to her feet. She moved to the nearest torch, plucking it from the wall and replacing it with a fresh one. The faint flicker of flame cast long, dancing shadows against the rough stone walls.

She turned, placing a small basket of fruit on the ground beside him. "Rest here," she said, her tone curt. "I'll call someone to speak with you. Maybe they'll let you go, but I cannot assure you that the season right now is so much favorable."

Her words were a dismissal, but she lingered for a moment longer, her gaze—or what would have been her gaze, if not for the blood-red cloth over her eyes—fixed on him. Then she sighed, the sound heavy with something between disappointment and weariness, and strode out of the chamber without another word.

El Ritch let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was safe, for now. That was enough.

At least, it was enough for a moment.

The basket sat there, a temptation impossible to ignore. He tried to wait, but hunger gnawed at him, relentless and demanding. When he could stand it no longer, he tiptoed to the fruit, plucked one from the basket, and bit into it.

The juice burst against his tongue, sweet and crisp, the crunch echoing faintly in the cave. He ate greedily, his cheeks full, savoring the pure, fresh taste. It was so good, so perfect, that for a fleeting second he thought, I could die happy, just from this.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I told you he'd be eating them," the woman said, her voice tinged with dry amusement.

El Ritch spun, startled, and saw her standing at the cave's entrance. She wasn't alone. Beside her stood another woman, clad in the same dark leather armor but without the blood-red cloth over her eyes. This one's gaze was sharp and unyielding, her eyes fierce even as they glimmered with mirth. She laughed softly, the sound light yet cutting, and her companion chuckled in return.