As the first light of dawn crept into the cave, Rami stirred from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the bright streamers of sunlight that danced across the stone floor. She sat up slowly, her body aching in places she didn't remember hurting before. A soft groan escaped her lips as she rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
Her gaze swept over the cave, taking in the piles of furs, the bone knives scattered about, and the broken fruit husks that littered the floor. A heavy sense of despair settled over her as the reality of her situation sank in. She hadn't returned to her world. The earthquake that had brought her here had likely destroyed everything she once knew—including the body she'd called her own.
Her head throbbed with the kind of ache that made her dread the day ahead. She pushed herself upright, wincing at the soreness in her muscles. As she stepped toward the cave mouth, a cool breeze brushed her back, and she froze. She wasn't wearing anything. With a quiet sigh, she looked down at herself, resigned to yet another reminder of how far she was from home.
Determined to fix at least one problem, Rami began gathering materials for clothing. She picked through the fur piles, searching for the softest and cleanest pieces, and collected lengths of broken vine. Using a sharp shard of bone, she began grinding it against a smooth pebble, shaping it slowly into a needle. The work was slow and tiring. At one point, she had to bite a hole through the bone, which made her gag, but she kept going. She stitched the furs together into a simple two-piece outfit—rough, but functional.
Just as she finished tying the last knot, a rustle came from outside the cave. Yves stepped into view, a freshly washed animal pelt draped over one arm. He placed it on the ground outside, weighing it down with a rock. His golden eyes—now returned to their usual piercing blue—found Rami.
She sat there, wrapped in her handmade outfit, looking more like someone recovering from a long illness than a warrior. Yves gave a faint smile. She was still too small, too fragile. He would need to help her grow stronger. Without a word, he settled near the entrance, his gaze steady as he watched her finish her work.
The scent of the clean pelt drifted into the cave, mingling with the earthy smell of the furs she'd used.