The road from the forest to the World’s Edge stretched long. I recalled only a little of it: endless walking, agonizingly slow. My lungs ached and rattled with every breath. The illness in them threatened to drown me – and so soon after I wished it gone. Had I been more circumspect, I might have strode ahead in good health, but it was too late for regret. Every inch of tissue in my skull was devoted merely to moving: ever forward. Evangeline’s russet shape led for a time, dark under the moon and fire with dawn. But I could not pace her, even at her slowest; my limbs grew weak as a newborn’s, and shuddering with effort I was forced to lean on her, at last. An inglorious homecoming, at its best. The arrival slipped from my thoughts even as it happened; my eyes dwelled on the ground, where grass rustled and snagged at my toes. Can I rest now?

We slipped once more under the cover of trees, though I barely registered the darkness – abrupt under the eye of a burning sun. Winter still clung to my hide, despite the day; I felt it all the way to the depths of my bones. And somewhere, guiltily, I knew I must be dying – too early, or too late. My limbs would go no farther; my sides expanded rapidly and deflated too fast, rapid shallow breath a quiet gurgling in my chest. At last, Evangeline was not enough to bear the burden of my weight; even leaning against her, I could no longer move. I stopped, at last, somewhere beneath the trees.

It would be suicide to lie down; I had known too many who went down in their final moments, quietly giving up. But exhaustion made the choice alone; I resolved to rise again even as my limbs folded. Grunting, I collapsed against the earth, only distantly mindful of the mare somewhere above. ”Rest… a moment…” My voice rasped out, faintly, from somewhere in my diseased chest. Yes, it would only be a moment – to catch my breath. My heavy head slipped down to rest on my forelegs, mud grating under the bones of my chin. It was much better, on the ground. I breathed a little sigh.

”Hope your healers…” I muttered. The rest of the sentiment lay forgotten somewhere in the back of my mind. When had I last slept? It was before the forest, before Evangeline, and Rostislav… sometime. My eyelids flickered, but with some resolve, I forced my eyes up to Evangeline. I should remain awake, at least. Instinct borne of knowledge insisted… So I watched her, unable to force my mind into recording anything about the forest, for the moment – all of it slipped out as it came. Evangeline alone remained a comfortably familiar sight. She would do.