It was as if my body had defrosted after being frozen. I could feel the ache in my muscles and the panels of wood below me, the smooth grain of the boards under my fingertips. Although I hadn't opened my eyes, I knew I was next to a wall as the knuckles of my left hand were brushed against it, and below a window on the floor as the light which was on my face had moved and I was now graced with soothing shade. Zelo was still next to me, and had taken my right hand and was playing with the fingers, rolling my joints between his digits. I didn't mind, it kind of soothed the tingling and soreness. Occasionally, now he'd stopped crying, he'd talk to me. Sometimes I wish I could have responded, but I haven't managed to move a muscle in my face yet. I felt paralysed even though I was feeling and experiencing so much.

He told me how he found me on a ledge on the outskirts of my village, tucked away from sight behind tall undergrowth and a tree for my shade. He told me how he often goes out there to get away from his own settlement, even though the sun is hot and what little grass there is is usually yellowed and brittle. He told me how the bridge he often uses was gone, the two ends just jutting up from the banks of the gorge but no middle. He'd dived into the undergrowth where he found me when he'd spotted a small band of men in hooded cloaks. Probably searching for survivors like myself, or maybe bodies. I didn't like to dwell on it.

I have no idea how he managed to carry me back to his home with no help and without getting caught. Not being able to ask yet was killing me, and he wasn't exactly going into any detail about his ordeals. He's just killing time, and I'm starting to think so am I.

Eventually he turned my hand over in his, and after a small noise of surprise started tracing my tattoo with his hot fingers and a new sense of curiosity. He lifted my arm upwards, and I could tell closer to his face by his breath against my palm. He started to ask me questions like where did I get it and why.

"You know tattoos are forbidden, right?"

Yeah, I know. We're the entire reason they're banned. Anyone else who get Ink are just trying to be rebellious, and they're fools for it. Luckily, the 'Authorities' know the difference between our insignia and impersonations, saving time, effort and many lives for it. Not so luckily for me, my tattoo is very fresh and still bright black against my hand. It takes years to fade down to the see-through grey the others have. Right now, I can't really complain. I don't know if any of the others got away.

"You can hardly see the pattern for dirt. That reminds me. If you don't wake up soon, I'll have to just clean you up as you are. Make things hard for me, why don't cha?" He chuckled half-heartedly, letting my hand drop back to the floorboards.

I inwardly groaned. Do I have to be cleaned like a rag doll when I'm semi-conscious like this? I felt my heartrate quicken a beat. Wait, does he mean properly clean me... in a bath? This is unjust! I don't want to get !

-----

Well, I guess it's nice to be clean. I no longer smell the intense smokey, sweaty and baked blood stench of my disgusting attire- Zelo gave me fresh clothes to wear. When he bathed me, he kept swilling the dirty liquid out with fresh luke warm water. He made sure my wounds were cleaned, and by the way he scrubbed at certain parts of my arms and legs I knew I must have been out there for days for whatever was stuck to me to harden like that. He was very gentle about my face, and got the tangles and whatever else out of my hair. I must have looked a different colour after he was done.

My body ached a lot less after the entire ordeal, even though I was still mentally blushing about the whole thing. I'm definitely pretending I never experienced this. Although he was polite about my dignity, and I was pretty certain we were both men, I still couldn't help but feel embarassed. Grime free, however, I was grateful.

By now I could tell he was bored. It must have been getting on towards the evening. He'd stopped telling me little musings and started entertaining himself by tapping and whistling, occasionally getting up and roaming the room. I've gotten to know his smell from when he's sat next to me- like damp pinewood, a sweet and earthen musk.

He came up to me and started poking me about again. "Wake up, dammit!" Impatient. "Awh, c'mon- show me some signs of life."

Tomorrow morning. Maybe when I've had some rest. Being almost dead is stressful.