Opening her eyes she found the earth new. Looking around from the spot where she stood, endless pastures in every direction on a compass, no urban intrusion on the rural world. Amara looked to the sky and hailed its beauty, tones of blue and the subtle glow of pale yellow hues that cradled the warmth of Apollo’s ward.
She stood in awe, the years preceding this had never allowed Amara to glance at creation and witness its purity. As the warm breeze brushed over her skin, she consumed the scent, almost the taste, of the world around her. Falling to her knees before the sky, and touching her head to the earth, desperately she grasped at the green strands and clung to it, as it in turn clung to the earth. Her breathing became distressed and loud as her face was stripped raw with tears, fearful in those moments that she would be ripped away from it. Each breath could be her last. She might never breath the scent of the earth beneath her again, or feel the strange sensation of the grass being crushed in her desperate hands. In her consciousness she was aware that this might be her final moment before she was stolen from this world.
When her tears subsided, and she became conscious of her breathing, she turned and lay on her back; gazing at the growing dark in the sky as she worked on regaining a steady rhythm in her breathing. She raised her hands before her and looked at the marks the grass had pressed into her skin. With her index finger on her left hand she began to trace the palm of her right, slowly moving over her fingers, smiling softly at the light tickling sensation that it provoked as she again moved to circle her palm. Looking beyond her hand, she saw the sky. Her breathing now soothed, she lay bathed in the twilight, and as they appeared in their untold numbers, she watched the stars and wondered if they in turn watched her.