Nanowrimo Day 10: ~10k words

Minutes faded into hours, and hours faded into days.  Dawn's black dress sucked up the ground's moisture, the air's moistures, until it was saturated through and through.  Dawn's knees began chilled, then grew sore, then painful, sharp, jabbing spikes of fire shot through her legs, until they became numb.  Dawn's back, straight as a pine tree, strained under the stress of remaining upright. Her lower back ached and throbbed until it became a soft white noise of pain and enveloped her like a blanket.  Dawn's arms shook, her muscles fatigued and nearing their breaking point, but her palms remained ever clasped, and her fingers never wavered from their direction toward God.  Dawn's mind was relentless, cycling through every prayer she could remember, asking the heaven's for an answer to the Blood Amulet until her request became a mantra.  She prayed the rosary after each round of asking for help, her voice speaking out to the empty, black room while her mind visualized and moved the beads.  She prayed so long that even the mental beads gained a mass and weighed heavily upon her body.  The physical representation of her limbs and breath and blood were lost to the comforting aura of extreme fatigue.  The stillness of the air in the small sanctuary aided her, for if even the smallest trace of breeze had invaded the room and moved against Dawn's body, she would have crumpled to the ground in a heap of flesh and bones.  As it was, only faith held her together.