packing up your things again

At first, there is everything.  Eden doesn't know what it means, though flashes of it blaze across her consciousness.  Colors, lights... sirens?  Nothing makes sense, swimming out of view.  A wet, warm feeling blooming across her head.  A flash of pain, the rattling of something within her head.  Though Eden tries to take control of her body, she just... can't.  There's nothing to control.  There's nothing she can do, not now.  Not this time.  

There's no telling how long she'd been out.  Hours?  Days?  How could she begin to keep track, being out like this?  

When Eden's eyes finally flicker open, it's dusk.  The last dregs of sun still coloring the sky, painting it a bloody red.  A chill settling over the land, all of it swimming into focus.  Nothing about it was familiar, aside from the aching in her muscles and the exhaustion in her bones.  If she'd just been asleep, why was she so tired?  Trying to get a sense for exactly what she's feeling, Eden stays down for a moment.  Overwhelmed, but alive.  

Is she alive?  Is this living?  There's only one way to find out, she supposed.  Eden sits up slowly, though the blinding pain in her forehead remains. 

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The land north of Hrafnsvaktin was of curious interest to the man; the likes of the plants here were unknown to him, for both their appearance and any medical usage. Sure, there were some he was familiar with but the pointed blossoms of all the succulents were foreign to him. Unknown. Such curiosity tickled a part of his medic brain that he struggled to turn off, even in the face of another wolf.

Still, he managed to shift his focus; maroon eyes found the pale woman, surrounded by water and green blossoms as though she were some kind of vatnsnymfa. She was certainly pretty enough to be one. The Northman watched the pale nymph as she rose, in obvious pain and disorientation — an undoubtable sign that she was freshly born unto this world.
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