The end of Mercy's First Night

The long grasses that help shroud her in shadow are only two and a half to three feet tall, which conveniently should take out the possibility of a large creature hiding in them. They may also be edible, though to find out will probably require the dangerous trial and error of eating them.

After several careful moments of crouch-crawling, Mercy steels herself before turning the final corner. Blinking at the sight of another long row of thick trees she decides that it is safe enough to sleep. Just to be extra precautious she continues along the wall the opposite way she came.

Having a clear mental image of the entire surrounding landscape did wonders for Mercy's happiness. She had a home base at least for the moment. Her Mother's wards kept this shabby barn intact somehow, and this was more than spacious enough for her to live in. The chill of the night was not fierce, so it must still be a warmer season. This could bode well for food gathering.

Mercy is not sure how she has this vague general knowledge of life without any names or specifics but is more than appreciative nonetheless.

Taking stock of the state of her barn she decides to move all the trash into a pile by the not-door-hole-in-the-wall. Maybe she inherited her organization from her Mother. Hopefully, she inherited everything from her, and nothing from HIM.

With each handful of trash moved, and her comfort increased as she learned the creaks of the boards or the smatterings of stenciled blood, Mercy learned more about herself. She even began to speak aloud.

"I wonder if all creatures can just decide that they have certain characteristics. I am organized. Could I change that if I wanted? Why would I want to? Is this what people do? Ask open-ended questions and clean? Oh, I bet they do things with other people."

Mercy hesitates over a pile of sticks that looks to have webbing surrounding it. She hadn't realized that the horrible smell wasn't simply how the barn reeked, but that there might be something decaying in the corner.

More than curious to see what kind of animals this world boasts, she took her knife and poked away some of the wood. A calm-looking rodent lay dead with a shallow gash in its side. It looks to have only died recently, by how little the three circling flies have eroded at it. It was most likely the magical activities that brought it to its end.

Mercy mused at the rodent. Could she eat this? There was nothing at all appealing about the skinny carcass, it was surely malnourished with ribs standing out that prominently. She supposes she couldn't be picky, but she had no way of cooking the meat.

Mercy did not plan on staying in the barn once light hit, assuming that it would even shine in this land, or at this time of year. The sky didn't seem any darker nor lighter than when she first glanced at it, though she was sure she had been awake for at least an hour.

"What the hell is an hour? It is sixty minutes. What is a minute? Sixty seconds. How long is a second? One Mississippi. What is a Mississippi?" Mercy's little game of asking herself a question and having an answer pop into her head came to an end with that last question. She couldn't assume what happened in her mind was normal, but this felt even more out of bounds from the ordinary.

Back to the current decaying issue. If she waited until she was desperate enough to attempt to eat it, it could be infested with disease, or have something hungrier than her come looking for it. Still afraid of every potential creature Mercy decided to risk leaving the rodent and figure out what to do with it in the morning.

All except a single pile of debris formed a mound-like barricade at the entry. This design would help obscure her presence when she curled into the corner closest to the door and furthest from the window. You would have to enter the building to see her, and she was praying no one would.

"Should I pray? Who would I pray to? I think I'll just say goodnight to mom."

In her deeply tired state, Mercy set upon moving the last of the trash to the pile and had done the entire job successfully until the very last trip. Slipping on an unidentified wet spot, Mercy crashed to the floor. Her hands shot out and into the jagged pile of wood in an attempt to brace herself.

As several shallow marks bore through her skin she was surprised at the pinprick of tears in her eyes, but even more so at the deep red of her blood. Her Mother's golden ichor wasn't passed down. She wonders what color her Mother's assailant will bleed when Mercy finally has the chance.

Mercy winces as she throws the non-bloodied wood on the pile and places the contaminated ones next to the rodent. The three flies quickly flee from the animal at the prospect of a new source. Interesting that they would choose bloody splinters over a corpse.

Moving to her desired corner Mercy begins to give in to her exhaustion, she had just been born after all, and it had definitely been an active awakening.

Grasping her hands together to keep the blood from her clothes, she uncomfortably put her back to the intersection. She thought that this was a good start. She didn't know how it was for others, but she had half a barn, her sanity, and good spirits. She wanted to at least have one of those three things at all times. She had no idea just how hard it would be to maintain that in this world.

As she finally succumbed to sleep, she bid farewell to her mother, vowing to give her a proper burial and service once her body had been retrieved.

Sleep took our friend Mercy in an instant.