The Rubbish Realm

Chapter 15

Ermengarde checked the paper in her pocket, checked the measurements of her candles on the floor, and checked her bag for seven more candles and a couple matches. They'd need a few for the way back, she knew, and better safe than sorry. Everything was exactly the way it should be. She grinned to herself, breaking the silence. "Isolde? You ready?"
Isolde was clearly not ready. In fact, she was asleep on the wooden floor, successfully avoiding that which she didn't like, namely, leaving the house. Exploration was not her thing.
Ermengarde rolled her eyes, knowing nobody was watching. If that's what Isolde wanted to do, that's what she wanted to do. Glancing to check again, all the candles were lit. She stepped in, to the darkness.
Now that she knew it was coming, it wasn't quite as startling. She noted where she had started, in case she got lost, and, using the compass she had just bought, navigated her way due south. After all, that's where she'd placed her destination candle, the one in the middle of it all. She just hoped it didn't open up into the open sea.
She noted it in front of her, the contrast clear from the dark portal-realm. Peeking her head out of the exit, she noted that it did, indeed, open up to the open sea. Well, she'd have to adjust the destination candle. Turning back, she went back the way she'd came, navigating north with the compass. It was easier than she'd thought it'd be, using portals, as the pitch black of the portal-realm made it very easy to see exits, even from a distance.
She reached her starting point easily and walked out. Isolde was still asleep. Adjusting the candle a little north, she stepped back in. She jogged lightly, noting the firmness of the, well, substance beneath her. How did this work? Why wasn't she falling? She kicked it to see what would happen. And instead of the thunk she was expecting, as would have occurred from a solid floor, her foot went through the dark surface as if breaking through glass, shards of it gashing her ankle and then scraping it again as she pulled it out. She could feel warm blood running down her ankle as she limped, astonished and slightly terrified, towards the entrance that was her house, ignoring her prior destination. Exiting the portal, she got a look at her ankle - and it was pretty bad. The ankle was scraped pretty much all the way to the knee, her left boot covered in blood from her leg. The pain hadn't really set in yet, but she knew it would be brutal when it did. Quickly, she limped to the kitchen to tie a rag around it... or four... just to try and stop the bleeding.
Isolde, no longer asleep, seemed to appear behind her. "How did that happen?" she asked as she wiped the blood off of her leg and boot and then off of the floor.
"I kicked the floor and my leg just went through." She tried not to squirm too much, but the wet rag hurt when wiping off the blood.
"You should have seen that coming," Isolde replied, double meaning lacing her condescending, yet concerned words.
"Yeah..." she trailed off, knowing that she really ought to have. Common sense and an anticipation affinity, and she still made such a dumb decision... but what was that floor? How did her leg go through it? It certainly didn't feel like or scrape like wood or rock. It had felt too smooth, then too jagged when her leg went through. And when she'd seen it, it had seemed somehow shiny, like silver, except pure black. It reminded her of a certain other shiny black piece the peddler had tried to sell as a knife. It had been the same color, reflective... but it had seemed more solid and less sharp... at least until she'd fallen through. But why would they make a floor out of that material, not wood or stone or dirt? And why was there even a floor at all? Why were portals a thing? Who made them?
She suddenly realized Isolde was waving a hand in front of her face. "Ermengarde?" She was clearly frustrated, as if she'd been doing that for a while.
Ermengarde jumped back, startled, then yelped as she landed on her injured leg, falling to the floor in pain. Now that her attention was brought back to it, she could feel the blood drying on the bandages. It was, to say the least, not the nicest feeling.
Isolde managed to grin, wince, and frown deeply at the same time. A frince? "We'd better go see the doctor, that... those cuts look pretty bad." She offered Ermengarde her hand to pull her back onto her good foot.
They helped each other to the door, Isolde pulling it open for them, and together Ermengarde limped to the doctor's house.