Head throbbing.  A goose neck pounding her head over and over again. They were furious throbs. Blood swirled in her ears like dancing cascades of chaos. Her eyes shifted and a glean of sunlight burst through the slit she had narrowly allowed. She was alive. 

The light tingled her other senses. Gradually the pain and weariness of last night's events traveled like burying snakes through the rest of her body until she was blanketed in aches and sores.

Her head was the worst though. It felt as if a gigantic marble had replaced her regular head, as she desperately tried to push up into a sitting position without her head lolling too far to one side. She needed water so badly. Her ears alerted her to the sound of a lagoon just a few metres away, but pain seemed to cry out a gigantic wall that blocked her mind from sending any blissful self-serving commands. 

She tried to think, but pain blocked any memories or patterns like an all-encompassing canvas, and she was sent crashing to the floor. There was blackness once more.

Later, she resurfaced. Water surrounded her. Somehow, it had traveled to her instead of her travelling to it. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, like a flower drooping in the heat, and drank the sandy tides of water, uncaring of the specks of sand entering her gullet. At least her mouth was working. 

She felt stronger though, her body less achy, and her memories more fluid. Was this the helping hand of God? Did the Almighty Lord and Saviour also save her in this land? She could more easily debate this, a sense of peace sweeping through her and a sense of affirmation covering her body. She remembered the routine at each single day at the crack of dawn and  at the rest of dusk praying to God, asking for guidance, hoping for greater purpose. Perhaps he had answered her prayers, and now was saving her once more. 

Her eyes opened, fully. The light flooded in, but she didn't mind, her eyes were blinking furiously in the light. She certainly felt stronger. The giant marble on her head was still there, but it was manageable, like a musical instrument to be mastered, and she had just harnessed the first set of keys. Sitting slowly up now, her arms stretched out behind her back, she looked to the sky and smiled with blood caked across the side of her face. It had no matter. 

Salvo, she suddenly thought. More of a cry.

He had been taken; kidnapped by what a monstrous thing. She tried to recall what it looked like, but only remembered poor Salvo, slumped unconscious, draped over the creature's back like a rug being taken to market. She felt sad at the thought. 

"Fetch me Sire Ralf, Cecily" she said in delirium, thinking she was back at her favourite table, sewing and crafting a new dress for one of her most prized students. She imagined Cecily, a small blonde haired girl  of some marginally wealthy family from the southwest of the country, scuttering away to request the aid of the bold and the fierce Sire Ralf. He would save Salvo for her. He could save anyone. He once saved her from drowning when she was little more than a girl. 

Immediately she saw the big bushy red face of Sire Ralf in front of her eyes. "My lady Maria, how may I be of service to you?" 

"I require you to save a man" she said, drearily, almost drooling the words. "He's a very big man. He has acres of passion, and whole castles of compassion too. You must help him" she continued drawling on "he's a peculiar fellow I do admit, but sincerely he is one of the most fascinating and caring individuals I have ever met. He was going to help me... he was going to help me survive". 

She saw Sire Ralf chuckle at this. "Ah dear Maria" he smiled. "Why do you request this of me?"

"Because you are a brave strong man. You can slay this evil monster that has captured him, and return him to me".

Sire Ralf gave another chuckle, loftier this time. "Oh but Maria, aren't you just so brave and strong in so many ways?" 

She looked at him, and then she looked straight through him. She saw the rocks, the sparse trees, the lazy lagoon, and the scuffled earth that provided the last trace of Salvo's existence. He was real. She was real. It was Sire Ralf that was fake. Perhaps she had been in a coma all along. 

Gradually, she began to shift more and more forward, her hands moving to her sides. She was looking curiously at the panicked lines in the  earth, trying to recall each and every moment. The big circular shape in the ground must be where Salvo landed. There was the large lines in the sand where the monster had hoisted him into the air, and slunk off with her man in its arms. How dare it. 

It was quite astonishing that the marks were still there in the sandy ground. The air was utterly still, it didn't want to brush the scene of the crime away, like so many others. She stumbled across through her marbled brain an epiphany.

Follow the tracks, she thought to herself. Follow the tracks, and then she would take back her man. She would. She had fought geese and lived. She could fight anything. 

Maria took one crawling step forward, towards the ultimate place she had witnessed him. She wanted to follow each and every track, ensuring she was on the right path. She saw the markings of footsteps in the earth, which were indeed surprisingly small. Each footstep she analyzed. It looked like some kind of heavy shoe that the wealthy wore in her time, a very heavy shoe. She could see the lines of the sole in the sand: three curving lines and then flat rectangles on the front and back. Fairly fundamental, but still an inkling. 

Despite her aching body, she pressed on, watching the footsteps each time, keeping her head focused towards the ground, breathing evenly to stop herself from feeling sick. It was slow meticulous work, but she got herself into a rhythm, hurrying through as fast as possible before a wind picked up and breathed away the last signs of Salvo from her grasp. 

The footsteps were evenly paced, continuing in a steady rhythm, as if the monster was swaying side to side as he walked. She tried to imagine this as best as she could, depicting some dark foul-breath creature with cat-eyes and dragon slits for a nose, with a shaggy mane of dirty wolven hair at the back. Whatever the monster though, there had to be a way. A route through the monster. Her brain was beginning to pick up a pace and sort out a plan based on the clues around her. 

Her head hurt all the more, but she shushed it out, trying to muster the energy of her brain cells like a knight gathering together his peasant soldiers before a battle. Obviously she wouldn't win in a face-to-face brawl. She would have to be more cunning and clever than that... she would have to ... what? She thought about it, trying to guess what Anton or Ralf would do in this situation. 

They would probably charge in with their swords and shields, screaming at the top of their deep male voices and try to tackle the creature head on, protected only by their armour and their unending bravery. But no, there was a fine difference between bravery and foolishness, and she would certainly be a fool to try the same. She had to be a sneak. 

But what, sneak in how? Sneak where? Sneak with hope, she thought to herself, as lightning bolts of shuddering pain swept through her body and chest. Her vision was rapidly looking like it had decided to take an evening stroll and blurred to the left, then veered to the right. She was staggering, crashing around, her concentration was everywhere except for the footprints. Before she knew it, she was back on the ground with her face in the rocks. What a sight she must be, she managed to think, before blackness rushed in like the tides of sea once more. 

aro...arou... She vaguely heard the echo. Perhaps she was descending into madness. Wouldn't that be lovely. Arou...Aroughh.. more sounds, were they getting closer? Were they the gates of insanity, lovingly stretching out its arm to envelop her? Arough! Arough! MMM, they are awfully persistent. But why could she suddenly feel the rough rock beneath her cheek and arms? AROUGH! AROUGH! AROUGH! The barks finally ripped a whole through her manic revelry. Her head lifted up like a mountain rising in an earthquake, shaky but eventual. 

Her vision was in the proper place again. She hoped, wherever it had gone, that it had had a nice time. She really was mad.

A dog. A big black dog was in front of her. She had never seen such a dog before, not many dogs happened to chance upon Ludlow for a cup of wine and a good ol' chit chat. She noticed its orange snout and chest, along with its muscular frame. It was looking at her, curiously. It didn't look hungry, it just looked curious in this rather arid empty landscape. 

"Nice to meet you, dog" she greeted the animal, trying her hardest to smile. It was wonky, but it worked. The dog padded closer slowly, reaching her and then beginning to sniff at her forehead and hair. The sniffs tickled a little, but were nice. Like someone brushing a person lightly with a feather whilst also blowing softly. 

Maria rolled over onto her back, the dog's huge head still looming like a gigantic black orb above her face. It was panting, staring down at her, its hot putrid stench of breath beating into her nose. She was in no state to complain. She could even see the long stretch of sharp white teeth that littered the animal's mouth. Tentatively, she reached out to touch the soft fur around the sides of the dog's massive face, stroking it gently, and smiling... wonkily. She just hoped this big hound hadn't messed up her tracks to dear Salvo. Oh she very much hoped not.

The thought sent a jolt of motivation through her, like an electric current racing through a circuit. But she dared not move, not just yet. She saw its face coming closer to hers, its mouth reaching her arm, slowly like heavy wood being lifted on a seesaw. Was it rushing to... No, it was only licking. It licked the blood away from her right arm, and some of the sand that had crusted there. Why was it being so nice? Was this another gift from God? In that moment, she felt intense gratitude, and began to giggle almost crrazily at the ever tickling licks that ran down her arm to her hand. 

Her left arm reached up to the top of the dog's head and stroked it softly, appreciatively. The head was softer than its sides, very soft ears. For a while, she just lay there with the dog almost giving her a saliva bath. How rank and awful, she imagined some of her Ludlow maids erupting disgustingly. She had no mind for it. In that moment it felt like bliss, pure bizarre bliss.

Eventually, she was on her feet though. The great dog rose on level with her belly button. She knew it was certainly heavier than her. She had been called a light little feather by her father when she was younger, which was intensely annoying. 

Her head didn't hurt as badly now, and her thoughts weren't taking a dance party anymore. She could actually think properly, finallyShe gazed into the hound's eyes, wondering why it had come to her, and what would she do with such a dog. She liked it though. It had raised her up to height of standing, washed away the dregs from her mind, and given her fresh energy to pound forward on the search. 

First, water. Now, a great big dog. She was getting rich in hydration and animal saliva. How wonderful.