Eat, drink, sleep. Eat…sleep more. In fact, some days eroded so swiftly via a fretful slumber that I skipped the eating and drinking part all together. In those first days, (even when I’m pressed the point of sweet exhaustion) my mind combats itself. Every hour or so, these eyelids would fly open; flecks of moisture would crawl, forming moats throughout my coat. Real sleep did eventually come…fatigue went the distance and won the uphill skirmish. My worn-out body repaid the act of submission by beginning to truly heal itself.

Days pass, morphing into a breathless blur. Since my arrival…the crowd mercifully left me to own devices. Peaceful rituals emerge, formed to idle those lax hours and comfort my internal demons. Recovering physical strength is easy and brief…it took a matter of days considering the generous amount of magic that had gone into mending…but this fractured mind couldn’t be sewn back together by craft alone…nor with short notice. My heart couldn’t simply ease itself back up from the dread of learned uncertainty. Even in a land swimming with the taste of my own – I’m constantly questioning their reality. The sound of rustling leaves or shadows is enough to skitter my heart. Doubt is a plague, whispering false notions and threats.

Had I really escaped the jaws of my masters?

----

The first rays of light stream into my humble alcove. Hunger aches plea anxiously, sucking on my gut like a tick. Ears slide forward, listening to the quiet world beyond the rim of these dark quarters. Early birds have begun their songs; the muffled, near silent shadow of a red-tailed squirrel flits from a tall, leaning cedar. Forelimbs pull out in front – scrapping against the firm, compact soil. The rear portion of my hovel presses into my rump; the other walls are more forgiving, they allow six or so inches of space to separate me from the cold stone on either side.

Though my abode isn’t spacious, there is just enough room to step inside, (if one ducked) turn around (carefully) and stand (or lay). Hindquarters tense, I lean forward, a dirty lock of hair falls over my eyes. A quick shake sends it aside; knees lock, holding me halfway upright in a sitting position. Wing joint flex, anticipating their release. Half a breath later and I’d managed to emerging from the cave with feathers uncoiling, soaking those scattered rays. Unhinged muscles sigh, relieved to be free of my preference in den.

Travel wear and old aches have fled; but the demands of an empty, ill-nourished gut remain. Irises lift, surveying the familiar (learned) lay of terrain ahead of me. Evergreen marches straight to the mountain; short brush and barbed vine are tangled in the crags above me. Mossy turf spreads under the fallen array of needle and mushrooms grow in abundance around the heart of various elders.

Over time, I’d come to know a few trails; mostly the ones which lead to water and food. Aside from the fleeting caw of a lone, territorial raven and the chatter of various rodents – the forest is quietly waking. Yawning even. Noah…physical needs are momentarily suppressed as I tread upon ignored waters. The bloated bodies of unaddressed issues lay in waiting, rotting in the darkness. His face, those soft blue green irises linger in my mind’s eye. Mini me arches her brow, regarding me skeptically -- I didn’t know where they sent him, or even if he’d stayed in the valley for long.

OC: @Noah