Your lust is redoubled as the woman gives you the plants she has dug from the sandy division between your former home and the ocean tides. You yourself had dug as many as you could from the land before fleeing, she must have done the same. But you are thankful for her gift, because already your own stores were running low, already your bag was feeling light. You had returned above the ground in search of plants, having already once clambered down into the pits, but you knew you would not find them. Perhaps you left the safety of the cave hoping to be taken into the darkness, to be saved of your shivers and sweats, the agony that brews up in your mind. Again, as before, the Phantom Seeker has saved you. What you can manage of a smile turns up the corner of your lips. The mental anguish of so many years behind you dulls what happiness you feel, though. If you were a stupider, weaker man you would devour every plant the Phantom Seeker has brought to you in this very moment. But you are strong, you are smart. You know you must ration, you know you can weather the pain. You'll just have to fight.

So you follow the woman back to the hole in the ground, where you know you must, but it is still no matter of safety. You have to be near her, to see her, to know her. She is becoming your new drug in your time of need. And perhaps, if there is something within you that can manage more than lust, you must make sure she is safe. And then finally, after so many weeks and months, even though your shivering mind threatens to throw the word from your memory, you learn her name. Circuta. Your new queen, both metaphorically and figuratively. You have not seen Pretty Boy in so long. Perhaps she is yours for the taking. If she will have you.

The sugary sweetness of her voice drapes over you, driving away the tremor of your muscles that has been plaguing you ever since the ocean was overtaken by the darkness. For a moment your physical body is soothed, lost in her rambling, beautiful voice. She could turn hell to heaven, if only she spoke it to be so. And so she turn's your warriors heart, giving you peace, for this moment.

And yet, even lost in the depth of her words, something still gives you trouble. For all her candied speech, for all her molasses covered sentences, for all the information she divulges, she still does not give you your rightful dues. Arlo, Pretty Boy, beast long missing is named General. And you? A dog, a puppy that follows her. Does she enjoy your pain? Does she gain something from watching you struggle, watching you fight and climb through battle after battle, only to be given nothing. You words before are still true. You bleed for nothing, you stand in the shadow of a stallion who does not exist any longer. In her heart and in the herd. Your shivers return, your dark coat beginning to dampen with sweat once again. The illusion she had wrapped you up in breaks and you are once again left to deal with detoxing. But perhaps your mind is hit harder than your body.

Still, you are not so far gone as to ignore the entrance of the golden stallion as he speaks, remembering him from the meeting before, with the Tribal man. You take this moment to make your point. You're not so suited for the peaceful life that the Phantom Seeker begs of you. You look the golden man in his pupil-less eyes. “You have my warriors.” Does she take your hint? You are the general? You doubt she will question you this time. Even as she names Arlo General, she must know as much as you do that he is gone. So, with a pause to look at the rest of your herd, you finish. “All of them.” It is not a request, it is a demand. They will aid the effort, because you will not be kept living in this prison forever.