No title yet chapter 1: I have red hair too (Part 2)

Arthur moved beside his friend and looked out onto the horizon. “What do you mean?” he said “I can’t see anything. It’s raining pretty hard out there” he said, straining his eyes. Din ran into the tower and hopped down the spiral stairs two by two, the dust barely stirring as he moved. He paused for a moment and yelled “Stop looking and just follow me! Grab a cloak, we have to hurry!” Arthur hopped down the steps after him. The steps protested his weight combined with his speed. “What’s the hurry?” he called “It’s not like there’s a person out there!”
“Bring an extra cloak.” Din called back.
Amelia didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know where she was, and she sure didn’t know what was happening to her. She would have loved to sit down and figure out what exactly was going on, but she couldn’t sit, considering her present predicament. In fact, she really couldn’t do much at all except lie there on the sand. She never knew such pain until this moment. Or so she thought. That’s when the moment passed, and yet another wave of “water” landed on her body. She screamed out, yet somehow she knew there was absolutely no way that anybody could hear her. She couldn’t hear herself. She couldn’t feel anything. Her entire being was forcing her into the black abyss of unconsciousness, but she fought against that with all of her might. Surely if she fainted here she would die. These thoughts passed through her mind in an instant, only to be washed away by the pain of the water. Screw it she thought. She passed out.
Waking up after being in excruciating pain is like drinking salt water after a drought. It will feel great at first, that drop parting your lips, but you don’t realise that you will only be more dehydrated in a few minutes. So, Amelia felt great. The pain was all gone. It was almost funny how fast the mind can forget something like pain, and yet as she tried to sit up, and every burn on her body rubbed against anything touching her skin screamed in protest, her body remembered the pain very vividly, and she lay back down.
Her eyes darted around, trying to take in as much of the one hundred and eighty degrees of vision she was limited to. A fly buzzed around the craggy, old roof. It was beige, (the roof, not the fly) but the colour was no doubt dyed from not being painted for a very long time. She sniffed the air, instinctively, attempting to get a grasp on where exactly she was. She then realised just how little information sniffing the air would bring her. Much to her surprise, she smelled food. She closed her eyes. Not that they were doing her any good at this point anyway. Her ears became more sensitive, as she closed off her brain’s access to her other senses. Scratching, no, whittling. She heard whittling. Soft scratching, with a slight change in the sound after each previous strike on the wood.
“Good morning”. Amelia snapped her eyes back open, and turned her head to the side. Her protesting neck screamed in pain, but she continued her slow, agonizing movement. There sat a rather small, scrawny boy. “you didn’t have to turn your head” he said, absent minded. “I know what that’s like after being in the rain. Or I know what it’s like after being in the rain for about 5 seconds. You must have been there for a good twenty minutes.”