FEAR WAS STRUNG ACROSS EVERY NERVE IN KOVODEN'S BODY, MILKY EYES WIDE WITH THE NEED TO FLEE. THUNDER CRACKS OMINOUSLY ABOVE, STROKING THE POOR BLIND FOOL AND TELLING HIM TO RUN. RUN LIKE A COWARD. SOFT GRASSES BRUSH AGAINST HIS LEGS THAT SHUFFLE HIM ALONG, PUSHING HIM FURTHER IN AN UNKNOWN DIRECTION. HE HAD BEEN ABANDONED AGAIN, THIS TIME BY THE ONE WHO FOUGHT FOR HIM. WELL, WHERE WAS SHE NOW? HE CROAKS, A LOUD CACKLING LAUGH OF THUNDER SHAKING THE BONES IN HIS BODY.

HE CONTINUES TO WANDER, HOPING THAT THE DIRECTION HE WAS HEADED WAS TAKING HIM AWAY FROM THE MONSTER ABOVE. PARCHED LIPS OPEN IN A PLEA FOR HELP, BLIND EYES REACHING AND BEGGING FOR SOMETHING. ALL THAT HE RECEIVED WAS BLACKNESS, AS USUAL. HIS HEART BEATS LIKE A DRUM, RINGING IN HIS EARS AND THREATENING TO BURST OUT OF HIS CHEST CAVITY AND RUN AWAY, FLAMES ON IT'S HEELS, ON IT'S OWN (CONSIDERING HIS BODY ISN'T MUCH OF A HELP AND IS PRESUMABLY JUST GETTING HIM IN DEEPER SHIT). A DESPERATE LAUGH GETS STUCK IN HIS THROAT AT THE THOUGHT, AUDITS SWIVELING LIKE SATELLITES. ADRENALINE PUMPS THROUGH HIS VEINS, WINGS TUCKED IN AT HIS SIDES AS HIS THICK FORM BUSTLES THROUGH THE REEDS, UNKNOWN WHAT IS IN STORE FOR HIM.

NARES FLARE, UNSURE WHETHER THAT WHAT HE WAS SMELLING WAS ACTUALLY THE SCENT OF SOMEONE ELSE OR IF HIS MIND DECIDED TO PLAY TRICKS ON HIM. A DESPERATE WHINNY COURSES VIBRATES IN HIS NECK, A HOOF SCRAPING AT THE GROUND. WAS THERE SOMEONE ELSE? WOULD THEY HELP HIM?

BUT WHAT IS THAT? -- SMOKE MAYBE? HE DID NOT KNOW WHAT IT WAS, BUT IT BURNED HIS NOSE AND HIS THROAT GREW TIGHT AND HIS LUNGS WHEEZED. CACKLING, SPARKLING FLAMES DRAW NEAR WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE, BLIND EYES SEEING NOTHING. THE SOUND DANCES AT HIS EARS AND TAUNTS HIM.. WHAT COULD IT POSSIBLY BE? INSTINCTS SCREAMED AT HIM TO TAKE HOOF AND RUN AND RUN AND RUN AND TO NOT STOP UNTIL HE FELL OVER WITH EXHAUSTION.

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT, RIGHT?

THE FLAMES EAGERLY ATE UP THE DRY GRASS HE STANDS IN, HUNGRILY REACHING FOR HIM, CLOSER AND CLOSER. FINGERS TICKLED HIS FORE LEGS AND KOVO JUMPS BACK, FRIGHTENED, HAIR SINGED.

BUT IT IS TOO LATE.

THE FLAMES RAPIDLY SWALLOW HIM, WRAPPING HIM UP IN A PILLAR OF RED AND ORANGE AND WHITE HOT PAIN. BLOOD CURDLING SCREAMS MAKE HIS OWN HAIR STAND ON END, THE FLAMES GNAWING AT HIM LIKE A STARVED WOLF. THEY JUMP DOWN HIS THROAT AND HE SLAMS HIS MOUTH SHUT, TEETH RATTLING IN HIS SKULL AS TEARS STREAK DOWN HIS FACE. THE FLAMES SEEM TO GROW WITH HIS DISDAIN AND PAIN, STRONGER AND STRONGER AND THE PAIN IS SO BAD THAT NOTHING COULD BE WORSE. HE CAN NOT KEEP HIS LIPS SEALED, AND ALL HE CAN HEAR IS THE ROAR OF THE FLAMES THAT ENGULF EVERY POSSIBLE INCH OF HIM, WINGS FLAPPING USELESSLY AS THE FEATHERS BURN UP TO NOTHING. HE CAN HEAR HIS SCREAMS AS IF THEY WERE COMING FROM SOMEON ELSE, FAR AWAY. EVERYTHING HURTS AND THE FLAMES EAT AWAY AT HIM AS HE STUMBLES AROUND USELESSLY, REARING UP AND FALLING BACKWARDS WITH A LOUD THUD.

HE HAS NO WILL TO STAND UP. HE DOES NOT KNOW THAT HE IS SO CLOSE TO THE EDGE OF THE GRASS FIELD. HE DOES NOT KNOW THAT THAT SOMEONE ELSE CAUSED THIS - CAUSED HIS PAIN AND DEATH THAT WAS CERTAINLY COMING. THAT THAT SOMEONE COULD STILL BE STANDING THERE AND WATCHING HIM AND LETTING IT HAPPEN. BUT HE WAS NOT SADDENED AT THE THOUGHT OF DEATH. NO ONE LOVED HIM. HE WAS A WORTHLESS BEING THAT HAD BEEN ABANDONED TWICE. HE HAD WINGS BUT WOULD NEVER EXPERIENCE THE SUPERNATURAL ABILITY OF FLIGHT AND THE FREEDOM THAT CAME WITH IT. DEATH WAS ALMOST A WELCOME IDEA, IT MUST BE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE PAIN THAT COURSED THROUGH EVERY VEIN, IT MUST BE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE ETERNAL BLACKNESS THAT HE WAS CURSED WITH, IT MUST BE SO MUCH BETTER THAN LOSING TWO MOTHERS - THE ONLY PEOPLE HE HAD EVER KNOWN.

WHITE EYES FISH FOR FOR SOMETHING, ANYTHING, PAIN AND FEAR AND HOPE CAUGHT UP IN THE TEAR COVERED EYES, WILLING FOR SOMEONE TO BE THERE - WILLING FOR SOMEONE TO HELP. "WHY?" HE CROAKS OUT, VOICE DEAD AS HIS BODY CONVULSES IN COUGHS THAT GRATE AGAINST HIS THROAT AND EARS.

WHY COULDN'T DEATH JUST COME FASTER?


@[Reginald]