Flashback

Chapter 3: Quackerjack

Four Years Ago

Gosalyn, age twelve.

There's gasps, arguing, more voices. She barely understands anything at this point. But she's laying down now, and someone's taking off her wet clothes and she's being wrapped up in something... Her head is touched, and pain! She struggles, screams, and finally some words break through to her.

"I know it hurts, I'm so sorry. Oh, just a few more seconds, be a brave little girl." She knows the voice, she just can't place it. She dully thinks that it shouldn't be this quiet, this gentle, this subdued. "You can be brave, right? Sparky, hurry with those bandages!"

"Don't call him Sparky..." She drowsily mutters as a near-identical phrase is shouted by a nasally voice she knows she should recognize but doesn't.

The darkness creeps in until she's pretty much blind, she's fighting a losing battle against sleep, but she won't give in that easily.

She's lost all sense of time, she doesn't know how long it is, but the too-quiet voice continues to talk. It's encouraging her to talk back, distracting her as something is wrapped around her head. She's trying, but it's difficult, and she's not entirely sure of what she's saying.

Soft things — she thinks they're blankets, but they might be large shirts — are tucked in around her, keeping her warm.

Her vision clears for a few moments, and she turns her head to the side. She sees the leafy man, whose name she should know, and he's being cared for as well. He's propped against the wall, wrapped in warm blankets, and the watery man is talking to him. There's a weird lamp shining on him.

Leafy's smiling towards her, and she's shakily smiling back. But she can't fight anymore, finally giving in to the demanding darkness.