He arched an eyebrow at that.
-You don't remember your own name?
I shook my head slowly, panic beginning to set in at the realization.
-No...I don't remember anything. Not who I am, where I'm from, how I got here - it's all just a blank void in my mind.
Sympathy flickered across the young man's rugged features as he seemed to weigh my words.
-Well that's no good, he said at last. Memory loss that complete could prove...problematic.
He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, pondering, before his expression turned reassuring.
-Tell you what. You can call me Graham until your memory returns. As for you... He studied me appraisingly once more. I'll call you Amara. It means 'eternal' in an ancient tongue.
Amara. I rolled the name around silently, trying to forge those first sparks of an identity from the ashes of my amnesia. It did not feel...right, somehow. Unfitting. Well, no matter.
Graham rose in a singular fluid motion, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder once more.
-We should keep moving, Amara, he said, scanning the treeline warily. No telling what's hunting us in this forsaken place.
I started to protest the jarring movement, my battered body screaming in silent agony, but the words died on my lips as another deafening screech assaulted our ears. This cry seemed to reverberate from all directions, a sound like splintering bones and spilled entrails, chilling my blood.
Graham's head whipped around furiously, searching for the source, his jaw set in a rictus of grim determination.
-That cry - it's not like the others, he muttered darkly. We need to run. Now!
This time his arm looped fully around my waist, hauling me upright with what seemed like little effort despite my dead weight. Before I could voice any objection, he broke into a sprint, half-dragging me along as we fled deeper into the crimson forest. I couldn't help the whimpers of agony that escaped as every pounding stride sent daggers of torment through my ravaged side.
But our retreat was cut brutally short as a massive, sinuous form burst forth from the underbrush ahead, rearing before us in a torrent of snapping jaws and thrashing coils that shook the very earth.
The thing was snakelike, but so much more - at least twenty feet of putrid green and obsidian scales undulating with inexorable, coiling power. A trifurcated tongue flitted from its maw in grotesque flicks, the cavernous gullet easily large enough to swallow us both whole. And its eyes...those baleful sulphurous orbs seemed to sear straight through to my soul.
Graham skidded to a halt, frozen in openmouthed horror for a beat as we took in the full, horrific visage of the beast. When its jaws unhinged in a teeth-snapping hiss, venting a rancid wash of decaying breath, he was jolted into action - dragging his longsword into a defensive arc with both hands gripped around the hilt.
-Stand back, Amara, he ground out through gritted teeth, angling his body between me and the serpentine horror. I'll deal with this!