I'm not myself, that much is obvious. I can't tell up from down. I can't tell left from right. I can't tell my own beating heart from the vibrations that the hoof beats radiate off of the ground. They shake my frame in such a consistent motion that I am losing myself into the dreams and images of death and pain of the one creature that had actually understood me.

I'm not sure what it is that has my frame curling up even tighter into itself, fighting against the pain in my back as I try and push for myself to disappear in this corner, to disappear in this ball. Pain crumbles through my limbs, but I guess it is only the vibrations of the hoof beats that has brought my ears to perk up to attention while the tears continued to stream down my cheeks. It is when I feel the frame of a younger stag hunkering down beside me that I pull my head up from underneath the shelter of my limbs. I watch his wing as it presses up against the dip in my back, my frame wincing at first - suddenly afraid that the pressure is going to be more than I can handle, that I'm going to be killed for having a moment of weakness. But, instead of an unendurable amount of pressure he is simply pulling me closer to his side to offer for some kind of comfort. My broken frame is shifting in closer, relishing the warmth that he produces as the trembling from my pain and anguish take what little control is left of the vessel I am trapped in.

My eyes peer up toward the painted stag who is at my side, cradling me beneath his wing and all I can see is the concern that is filling is features. My eyes close and I drop my head to the ground again, ears fallen to the side in surrender as I feel the little animal curl up right beside my beating heart. It is then that I take in the vibrations surrounding his frame. Cera? Is this really him? I can feel myself melt a little. I don't know why he cares, I don't know what has brought him here, but it is the first time since joining the Throat that I even had the sliver of an idea that maybe I wasn't outcasted in my own home. His muzzle is gently wiping the tears from my cheek and I lean into them, only feeling them disappear for a few seconds as the tears fall again, even stronger and faster this time.

He speaks, and my audits prick up at the words he is saying. So much knowledge for someone who has to be so young. I'm still trembling. The panic from the images I'd been haunted with while trying to work out the method of my hawk's death was taking me over. Grief had stricken much worse than I had ever expected. My eyes don't open, I just allow the waterfall of tears to continue to fall from my orbs as I feel the frown that seems to begin to etch upon his face. He's broken as well - but I couldn't do anything to comfort him when I am not allowed to speak. He leans up against me, though, and presses his cheek to mine. I can feel the vibrations of his song that radiate from his chest into mine as he begins to hum, and with a gentle lip of my muzzle across his cheek, should he allow it, I am burrowing even closer against him. I wince with each movement, pulling myself tighter until my maw is pressing up against the little panda's chest, should she allow it, and my head is completely hidden beneath his wing.

I just want the memories to stop! I just want it to go away!

But I wasn't alone? I had Alleo now. I had Cera now. I had Sohalia - as she had me. Was there more than just grieving that was behind this time of muteness? Was this part of the reason I was forced to lose the gift of carefully crafted words - to force myself to deal with all the pain that I would never allow to surface? To show me that I wasn't truly alone - it was all just figments of my imagination?

But Gods, how could they ever want to be around me when they've seen me this broken? I'm not someone that they would stick around. I'm the person you save just long enough to keep them from killing themselves and then you move on for your sanity. I'm not as perfect as they believe me to be...