Blackfoot Forest i'm always chasing time

A scarlet girl appears from the trees, and he knows — her face is achingly unfamiliar to him, her scent foreign, but there's something about her presence. He knows it. He moves closer to her, heart racing inexplicably, and opens his mouth to say something — her name, perhaps. Too late he remembers that he can't; speech has been taken from him too, and he can't even ask the questions that burn in the back of his throat.
He closes his mouth, tries not to gag as he remembers the mutilation within, and gazes at her questioningly. Who are you to me? his eyes ask; his skin prickles with frustration. He can't voice it — never again. Perhaps he'll never get his answers.