Another journal

You can find all the sections here.

Wherever they’d jumped to had air, which made sense.  Emily’s lungs still had water in them.  Water that had been breathable, but water nonetheless.  She crumpled to her knees, hacking.  Remembering Dry-Eyes, she struggled the backpack off as she fell over.  The sprite was in no better condition, curled up and coughing water, her wings limply plastered to her back.

Emily tried to remember babysitting CPR classes—what was the recovery position?  Shaking, she reached out to try and turn Dry-Eyes onto her side.  Emily vomited, water and bile dribbled out of her nose and mouth.  She was lying on top of something, her knife, which was a sword now. Ha, fell on my keys.  She tried again to reach her hand to Dry-Eyes and the world went black.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.