What this excruciating pain? I had never had to feel the wraith of fire, nor the wraith of acid. Yet, here I stand with burns trailing up my legs and branching in spindling patterns against my barrel and chest. Each movement sends more of a burning sensation through my cranium so violent that I must stop my movements. No. I must move forward. I must continue to move toward the South. I must head home. I can find a healer then. I can get these burns taken care of.

Someone else was granted the egg - the responsibility of a child to care for. I cannot say that I am jealous, for I am not. I only wanted what was best for the child, for it to have someone to protect it until it could learn to do so on it's own. After all, with a hole in my heart from the loss of my red-tailed hawk I did not know if gaining another small creature could ever replace the hole, patch it up so that I felt brand new. I could never feel brand new. That possibility was long gone. But that one thought - the one figment of my imagination - was tugging at me and saying that I might have had a chance to find something new. No! I shook my head violently as tears stained my face, blind eyes squeezed shut as a small sob got locked up in my throat and choked me. Nothing could replace him. Nothing could replace the bickering matches we had partaken in. Nothing could replace my sight that he had given me. And most importantly, nothing could change my one moment of not heeding his call and not leaving when I was told to. The moment when I'd allowed myself to be caught, and caused even more pain to Taj and to my child.

Again, I violently shook my head before forcing my limbs forward. Each vibration from the steps caused me to shudder in pain. I couldn't even discern my own place in this land. Everything was foggy, broken, and holes were missing from my sight as my brain fought with the constant, thudding pain of the seared pelt. It felt as though most of the trees had been burned down, and the scent of burnt wood was there to confirm my beliefs. A few more steps. Perhaps if I holed up near some trees I could rest for a bit. Maybe, if I just rested then the pain would stop. But each stepped caused more and more agony. And with more agony came more broken sobs.

How many more steps could I take? I didn't even know. Stumbling, tripping, nearly collapsing, I managed to go a few more feet before I felt my shoulder scrape against the bark of a thick tree, a couple of leaves floating down onto my back. A tiny yelp escaped as it rubbed against my second-degree burns that trailed across my shoulder. I was trembling, and with the feeling of the leaves sliding against my burns I was crying even more. I tried to stretch my frame back out and to edge forward more, but my legs gave out. Each of the pillars folding from the pain and exhaustion of fighting to understand all that was around me. And, so as my frame got lower and lower to the ground I gave in and slid down against the tree, using my back (which had no burns on it, thank god) to help steady it until I was laying completely on the ground. I pulled my legs up under my barrel, wincing as each of the rocks, pieces of dirt, and branches scratched against the scorched pelt and sensitive flesh before pulling my head up against my chest and crying more.

I needed to rest. I needed to get better so I could go home. Perhaps leaving without anyone with me was not a good idea after all...