"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
01-12-2021, 02:32 PM (This post was last modified: 01-12-2021, 02:35 PM by Borderline.)
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
Parting with @[Yanhua] had left an unease in me that I couldn’t quite suppress. It’s hard to say what caused the unease. Could it be that I just wanted more time with the stallion now that we’d made up? Or was it that he was walking off on a quest with another mare? Or maybe it was worry for both of their safety? After all, Amarine and I had created a friendship out of the situation, and now her happiness weighed heavily on my thoughts as well. Still, it could have been other things that set my mind to worrying as well.
My mind was heavy with this worry when light turned to dark. It was a very sudden transition, not like that from day to night, as if the sun was there and suddenly gone. My first thought was for Memorie, but thankfully she was close, and when I called, she came running, a touch of fear in her eyes. I tried to keep my own fear reigned in for her sake. I know that she could easily feel the fear if she wanted to, and I didn’t want her to panic as I was beginning to.
“Mama,” she whispered hesitantly, “what is happening?” I could hear the worry in her voice. “I’m not sure, little love,” I say in a hushed voice. I look over her head into the distance. The redwoods offer a lot of protection from the world, but what they didn’t offer was a clear view of what was happening. So nudging the filly softly, I start off for a nearby meadow to see what had happened to the sun, trying my best not to panic when the darkness persisted.
It is lucky I had spent a great deal of my time exploring Taiga and committing everything I could to memory, because it is so dark that it’s hard to see anything. I place each hoof very carefully along the path while Memorie keeps close, often brushing up against my side as if to make sure I was still there. The warmth of her skin keeps me from completely falling apart, but the longer the darkness persisted, the more it built upon the worry and fears that sprang up in my mind. Where was Yanhua now? Were him and Amarine okay? By now, they should have been well on their way up a steep and dangerous mountain. The thought brings a fresh wave of panic.
Once in the meadow, I could look upon the sky. This does not help relieve the fears inside of me. I could see the dim outline of the sun, covered by the moon. Perhaps it was just an eclipse that would end soon?
But it didn’t. Time passes, and the moon moves with the sun across the sky.
Perhaps tomorrow will prove different? The question does little to assuage the worry within me, but as I curl up with Memorie in the meadow to wait it out, I try to push the thoughts from my mind.
Sleep proves hard to come by with so many thoughts inside my head. And when morning comes, the darkness continues to persist, and the panic grows. When the next morning rises in darkness, I am nearly beside myself. A large part of me wants to race into the darkness toward what I believed to be the Mountain. Another part of me wants to race to the Playground where I knew Yanhua and Amarine’s children to be waiting for their return. But still another part of me bids that I stay here to wait for their return. After all, there was little I could do, and I would likely just get lost along the way.
So wait I did. It was an agonizing wait, to be sure, and with each passing day, my worries grew. Poor Memorie must be beside herself, dealing with my emotions, but try as I might, I could not suppress the worries anymore. Day and night (though it’s hard to tell which is which anymore), I would spend wandering the forest, calling out for my mate and his partner. While Memorie slept, I found myself unable to. I grew thin and pale with each passing day. My child worried for me, but there was little she could do for this, and I could sense that this bothered her greatly. She’d always been able to comfort me in the past, but this she could not comfort away. It didn’t help that she worried for her father, Amarine, and the twins as well.
The wait was agonizing. Hopefully they would all return soon, because I don’t know if I could push my body much further. I could hardly eat, and sleep was almost a joke at this point.
While Memorie slept one morning (or was it?), I set out along a path through the forest, as I usually did these days. “Yanhua?” I called, as I always did. My voice had lost its hope, though. It was more out of habit that I called for him anymore, but I continued to do so, nonetheless. In a small clearing, I came to a stop, unable to move any further. I stopped calling. I stopped hoping. Instead, I lowered my head and began to cry. Where were they? Were they okay? I couldn’t stop repeating the questions to myself.
Yan hadn’t forgotten about Borderline. How could he? She, like all the other horses dependent on Yan for safety, protection, and survival, had been at the forefront of his thoughts since he and Amarine had gone to the Mountain. Since the Eclipse wasn’t ending and darkness followed his and the butterfly’s steps everywhere they went, Yan knew the keening over his and Amarine’s absence would be felt by those they’d left behind.
However, Borderline and Memorie were safe in Taiga. He at least assumed that Leilan or Nashua would be keeping an eye on them, or Lilliana as well. Hell, he half expected them all to be gathered together, waiting for news or his and Ama’s return arrival. He couldn’t have possibly known that Borderline and Memorie were, in fact, left alone to traverse the terrifying event by themselves.
His priorities had bent towards the twins who’d been left alone in the Playground, only to discover (after a horrible trek through the forest) that neither of them could be found there. He and Ama had spent days searching the expanse of magically protected common land, calling out for their children only to be greeted by the eerie quiet of the day-dark and the occasional skitter of shapeless nightmare creatures.
This was Yanhua’s worst nightmare coming to life. His children, gone. Amarine on the verge of a mental breakdown with himself not far behind. Their remaining option had been to return home empty, and they did so quietly with lingering regret.
The only time Yanhua paused on their long, quiet trip home had been when he and his butterfly mate passed through the River. It reminded him sorely of when he and Cheri had made their way here at the beginning of the journey, and as much as Yan wanted to linger there and search for any sign that his daughter might’ve come here in a desperate bid to find her way to Taiga, he knew that it would be time taken away from reuniting with the rest of their extended family waiting in the somber shelter of the redwoods.
So they kept moving, and Yanhua tried his best to keep Amarine from falling apart even though he wanted to crumble himself. He would spend every waking hour searching for the twins until they were found, he promised, until they were all together again and safe despite the unnatural phenomena shrouding their world in gloomy darkness. And then they would figure this out as a family.
Not long into Taiga was when Yan tried to feel for the echoes that’d left him during the eclipse; he tried to open that side of himself to the memories and feelings of others, hoping that an image from Amarine or Borderline, maybe even Memorie, would hit him. Nothing came. It wasn’t until the couple was walking nearer to their bedding location (a place near water and the open meadow, downwind from predators) that Yanhua heard the faint crying in the distance. It sounded hollow and forlorn, as ghostly as anything he’d seen with his powers but very real to the senses. He paused, knowing immediately who it was, and turning to give Amarine an encouraging press of his head against her neck, Yan promised her he’d be right back - that it was Borderline and she might be in trouble.
The horned stallion took off, trotting lamely but as quickly as he could manage through the woods. He had his intangibility to thank for making easy work of the otherwise encumbering trees, bushes, and debris littering the ground - the self-made power ensured he could pass through objects that would otherwise obstruct him. At last he burst into the clearing, hobbling forward to sush the worried mare left all alone in the near-black forest.
“Borderline, Borderline, it’s alright…” Yan limped at a hurried walk, feeling his shoulder and leg protest with every step. He reached for her, quick to throw his neck over hers and pull the blue-haired mare closer into a tight embrace. “It’s alright now. Why are you crying? Is it Memorie, is she alright?” He asked fearfully.
Please gods, he prayed silently, let her be alright.
I would have heard him sooner, lumbering through the undergrowth of the forest, but he was using his intangibility move more quickly. So it is only when he reaches the clearing that my ears pick up the sound of his movement through my muffled sobs. I quickly snap my head up and around, and despite the darkness surrounding us, I know it is him, with his glowing mane and tail. Another sob wrenches itself from my throat, but this one is a sob of relief.
Without even thinking, I launch forward into his embrace, now sobbing hysterically into his shoulder. “Yanhua!” I gasp, between sobs. “Yanhua,” I say again, this time more softly as relief floods through my worn out body.
He sounds worried when he asks why I am crying and then inquires about Memorie. “Memorie is f-fine,” I manage to stammer, still trying to speak through the sobs. “I’ve been so incredibly worried about you!” I elaborate. “You…” I choke out, “you were on your way up the Mountain when the world went dark, and I had no way of knowing you were okay. And when you didn’t come home in the days following…” I couldn’t bring myself to voice the worries that had plagued me in the time he was away, mostly the worry that something terrible had befallen him. Instead, I shove myself closer still, feeling the need to be as close as possible to his comforting embrace.
Even if I hadn’t been alone in the Taigan woods when he’d went away and the sun went with him, I still would have been sick with worry. There would have been nothing that could stop that worry, because he had been well on his way up a steep and dangerous mountain when the darkness took hold of Beqanna. The only thing that would assuage those worries would have been having him and the rest of our unique little family here, safe and sound, or having someone who could give me concrete proof that all of them were safe and sound somewhere in the darkness.
Speaking of the rest of our family, my relief quickly turns back to worry. I pull back slightly, regretfully, bringing my head to rest gently against his. My breath blows warm against the crook of his neck where it met with his head. “Amarine? The twins?” I ask, both dreading and anxious for the answer. “Are they okay?” My worry had not been just for him and him alone. Amarine was my friend, and the twins had become just as much family as @[Yanhua] and Memorie. I pull back even further so I could look upon his face for the answer to my question.
Little did I know I was in for a proverbial punch to the gut, that the twins had not returned with him and Amarine.
01-20-2021, 04:18 PM (This post was last modified: 01-20-2021, 04:18 PM by Amarine.)
Tornados from a butterfly's wing
The way home had been a trial on top of the one going up the mountain had presented. Ama felt stretched as thin as a cobweb by the time she and Yanhua at last stumbled back into their home. Her stomach felt hollow.
They hadn't found the twins at the playground. No trace of the pair was tangible in the dark, not with every other scent and emotion that saturated the place. And they had looked. Every fallen tree, every grove, every possible nook and cranny that a young horse's body could be concealed in. They sought them all out, and Ama yelled their names until her throat ached.
There comes a point you have to admit defeat.
Maybe they went home by themselves, they suggested in the way parents do when they're grasping at straws. Maybe Lilli or Borderline came to fetch them when the sun went dark. It was a bubble of hope that Ama clung tenuously to on the walk home, the skin around her eyes itching and sore with the need to cry. What if, what if, what if, will drive you crazy, but it was all she had flying through her head as they traveled.
Sorrow slipped from her like blood from a mortal wound. A constant, pulsing flow that ebbed in time with her heartbeat. She didn't feel like stopping it, but it weakened anyway, the limits of her strength having been reached.
There was a moment of joy when Borderline emerged from the gloom. One brief, happy moment, that ended abruptly as the grey woman spoke. Ama lagged behind Yan now, and caught only the last part of her friend's speech as she joined their quiet circle. "They aren't here?" The butterfly mare asked bleakly, voice still sore and rough from screaming. The bubble of hope she'd. been carrying collapsed on itself.
"I wish we'd never climbed that godsforsaken mountain," she wept, shaking with exhaustion and despair. Their mission seemed so tiny now. So pointless, if their children wouldn't be there to witness the wonder they'd conceived.
Yan grimaced at the ache in his knee, trying his best not to let the leg buckle. Amarine had done her best to help alleviate the sensation on their trip home, but even the cleverest magics had their limitations. Overshadowing the pain was Borderline’s concern, though. In the moment, Yanhua could forget the ache and breathe a bit easier: Memorie was fine. Borderline was alive, ragged and ghastly thin but alive.
“It’s alright.” The larger stallion soothed her, understanding her concern. “We made it up the mountain only to be waylaid by the eclipse afterwards. Things didn’t go according to plan.” Borderline’s mate sighed.
Amarine? The Twins? She asked, the words having some sort of effect over Yanhua when she said them. The chestnut horse stiffened; Borderline pulled away and he didn’t move with her. Amarine, the first question, answered for herself by trailing behind Yan and appearing from the black dinge like a quiet, curious mouse. Her hope - like Yanhua’s - had been that the twins were here in Taiga with Borderline, with somebody, but the crushing realization of the truth gagged their father. He was bound in stoic silence, a grim line hardening his expression in the near-dark.
Borderline had been here the whole time and hadn’t seen or heard from his children. They weren’t here.
At least Ama could sum up her feelings into words where Yan refused to. He wouldn’t say what she was saying, but he felt the lashing truth in every sense. The quest had been a folly; hadn’t Lilli tried to warn them? Hadn’t he promised her that he’d keep everyone safe? What good was a promise broken? How could anyone trust in his convictions after this? He thought.
Defeated, beaten, hungry and tired, Yan flipped his ears backwards and dug his heels into what little resolve he had left to dig into.
“They’re somewhere. Someone knows where they are, or knows where they’ve been, and I refuse to wait another second to find out.” He growled. In his thoughts, the patchframe of a plan formed in his mind: Yan would ask Ama to pour a strong emotion into him - something, anything that would subvert the thoughts of pain from his mind and give him focus instead. He could ask Borderline to fashion him a makeshift shell from leaves, needles, whatever she could use with her magic. Perhaps if she made a hard enough exo-skeleton of debris around his knee, it would cast to his skin and keep the joints from moving around too much.
“You’re right, Ama. We should’ve never climbed.” The horned stallion awkwardly turned to face the butterfly mare, seeking no forgiveness. He couldn’t forgive himself, much less ask her to. “But I won’t rest until I’ve made things right.”
@[Borderline] @[Amarine] I'm not sure how we want to make the connect between no twins -> twins back in Taiga, so I'm just rolling random with this thread until then, lol.
If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sense of sorrow and grief flowing from Amarine, I might have felt a moment’s relief when my friend’s figure appeared shortly behind Yanhua. In that instant, though, my heart dropped into my hooves. I look back and forth from Yanhua to Amarine. She didn’t need to ask for me to understand that the twins were not with them. Even in the dark, I could see his large figure stiffen. I could feel her sorrow and grief as if they were my own. “No…” I breathe, horrified. Nothing could have prepared me for this. In all the angst I’d been feeling these past few weeks, I never gave up that they would return…all of them.
As Amarine spits out the words I can only feel in my heart, I push past Yanhua. No doubt he is struggling, too, but there’s nothing like the bond between a mother and her children. It was her that would need every comfort she could get in this moment. So I go to her, pressing my chest into hers and wrapping my neck around her neck. “Oh, Amarine, we will find them, I promise!” I have no idea what the future will bring, but this was something I would absolutely see happen. I could not let myself believe anything else.
Yanhua speaks, and his words reiterate the same sentiment. I move away from Ama so I could face him, too. Even in the darkness, I could see the beginnings of a plan forming in those blue eyes, while ideas swirl around in mine. “We will find them,” I say, again, but this time to the stallion.
Just then, I could hear a small figure crashing through the undergrowth toward us. Memorie had, no doubt, sensed her father’s arrival and the heavy weight of Amarine’s emotions. She had risen from her sleep and come as quickly as she could. I am not sure what to make of this, or anything right now, as she stops next to me, breathless. She doesn’t need to ask to already know that the twins are not here, and her panic is palpable as well.
I turn to her, glad for her presence, as she stopped next to me, her little socks glowing brightly in the darkness. “Where do we start?” Is all she says.
“Yan, what do you need me to do?” I didn’t know, yet, that he was hurt so badly, but I would help in any way I could, and I could sense that he needed something from me. I look back and forth between Mem and Yan. “Yanhua, you and Memorie can use your empathic echoes to look for any signs of them, right? So we should split up. Memorie, you have been practicing with leaving little echoes around to be picked up later, do you think you could do something like that to pick up echoes of memories left by others?” I see her nod. “I can try.” I can hear the uncertainty in her voice, so I gather up an encouraging feeling and push it at her. She nods, again, giving me a more resolute look.
One more time, I turn to Amarine. “We will find them!” I know I can say it until I’m blue in the face, and it won’t change how she feels, but I hope that I can at least breathe a fresh sense of hope into her, now that there would be a set of fresh eyes on the lookout for them. I hoped that my energy would energize her.
It hadn't seemed like a big deal, walking home by themselves. Mama and Papa would be happy they'd been decisive, and be even happier to see them safe at home without any help at all. It was what he'd whispered to Cheri on the long walk back, bolstering her confidence with words and gentle echoes of home. Memories shared between the twins as easily as reassuring touches.
Then they'd gotten home, and it was still dark, and he'd run into a new relation. Reave, a boy his own age, but who belonged to Gramma Lilli. He was okay. It was at least nice to know that there was another potential playmate in these woods, when he got tired of playing with the girls. That meeting had been a side track, but he didn't realize it until the colts had parted ways and he realized Cheri hadn't returned yet.
He made childish disgruntled noises. He'd already had to find his black-coated sister in the dark once, and was really struggling with making himself do it again so soon. They were home now, she couldn't be far. His stomach grumbled. Finding food seemed like a much more rewarding task right now than looking for a sister that was bound to go walking off again as soon as she turned up.
He bumped along, (taking grim pleasure in a stream of words he knew would earn him a sharp scolding of his mother heard him say them) when he collided head on with a solid tree trunk. He tried to kick the offending trunk, missed entirely, and promptly decided it wasn't worth any more of his energy. That was when the wave of Anguish hit him like a load of wet snow.
His knees went weak with the weight of the feeling, eyes wet with sudden tears. Oh, that couldn't be good. Ears quivering, the gangly colt very suddenly and very desperately wanted his mother. More than he wanted food, and a good long nap. A thin little bleat fell from him into the darkness, which had gone from exciting to terrifying in very short order.
He began to walk, half stumbling, weaving between trees and tangled roots blindly. Searching with growing anxiety that only deepened as he moved. The emotion overwhelmed him, and for a moment he froze in place, the will to keep trying dying a violent death inside him.
He barely registered the voices at first. They seemed sad too, as sad as he was feeling, so that he hardly recognized them as existing outside himself. Not until his belly griped again with hunger did he lift his head and recognize the voices for what they were. "Mama...?" He asked softly, too softly to be heard from this distance. It was her distress he'd been drowning in. What was the matter? What had gotten his mother so heartbroken?
"Mama, what's wrong?" He asked, emerging from the night-shrouded forest to where the trio of grown ups had gathered. Mama and Papa had made it back, he was very glad to see, though it seemed like Papa waa holding himself wrong. Mama Borderline was there too, close by his mother's shaking shoulder. He brushed up against her other side, eyes wide with concern.
How helpless he felt. How useless. One trip outside the safety he’d built here and Yanhua came back broken, guiding a mare who’d put her faith and trust in him on a wild goose chase through hell.
He watched Borderline as she comforted Ama, the way they seemed enveloped with one another and totally outside of his reach, but Yanhua didn’t feel a pang of jealousy or anger. He was glad, infinitely happy to have Borderline here right now to give Amarine hope and support where his was lacking. The distance, at least, gave Yanhua perspective. It felt like his entire world was wrapped up together, a tight little ball of sorrow and shared grief, and looking in from the outside gave him all the resolve he needed to muster in order to answer them the way he did.
He wouldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t eat. He would die searching for his children before he gave up.
Memorie - the dear filly - broke the tense moment. Her arrival had drawn a bit of the ire out of Yan and he felt himself smiling despite the jagged edges he felt inside. Here was reason to celebrate: Memorie was whole and healthy, present and ready to throw herself into action without being asked. One look at her and Yanhua knew, knew it before she even spoke, that he and Borderline had done their share of raising the filly into a fine mare. She would do her lineage justice; Yan couldn’t have been more proud.
“Unfortunately,” The elder stallion murmured deeply, “I’m afraid finding them won’t be so easy.” He sighed.
“I haven’t been able to harness my magic. The Echoes… I don’t see them anymore, not since coming down from the mountain.” Yan explained.
Certainly Borderline’s plan would’ve worked if there were two of them doing the searching. Two horses leaving or seeking out echoes might do the trick for a good portion of the redwood forest, but only one? Memorie was as naturally gifted as Reynard or Yan when he’d been their age, but she was young yet. Her strength would wane and her powers deplete themselves before she managed even one-tenth of the redwood territory. Without Yan to help, they would get too little done too quickly.
“We should spread out. I’ll go with Mem, Borderline you and Ama -” Yan had started to workaround his handicap when all of a sudden, he stopped.
There - in the darkness - a sound? Yan pinned his ears and stiffened at the noise, only to deflate a second later when Reynard appeared in the middle of the dark.
“Rey!” His father nearly shouted, the light in his hair glowing vibrantly in wordless elation. Tottering, Yan hobbled as quickly as he could toward the colt, no doubt outrun by the others who were hopefully equally as excited to see the spotted yearling. When he did reach his son, Yanhua wasted no time in reaching out to touch him, assuring himself that it wasn’t a fabrication but the real thing, alive and safe with his parents where he rightfully belonged. The old goat was speechless; all this time he’d been right under their noses! “Cheri?” Yan didn’t hesitate to ask Reynard, pulling away from the boy so the others could crowd around him if they liked. “Where’s your sister?”
@[Borderline] @[Amarine] feel free to powerplay Cheri's whereabouts! I'll probably throw her into the mix next reply <3
The threads of my plan were already beginning to unravel at Yanhua’s mention that he couldn’t use his empathic echoes. I look up at him, worry evident on my face. What could have possibly interfered with his abilities to send and receive emotional memories? I hoped that it would just be something as simple as worry and fear overwhelming him. I reach across the distance that separates us, having to step forward slightly so that my nose can brush against his shoulder, a gentle, comforting touch. But I still remain close to Amarine, knowing she needs me more than him right now.
Memorie also steps forward. She gathers up a happy memory of herself, Reynard and Cheri playing that first day they had met and sends it out to all three of us, myself, Yanhua and Amarine, in an attempt to raise our spirits. “We will find them,” she reiterates the sentiment that I had already said numerous times, as if hoping the rallying call would perk up their spirits enough to get a move on.
I nod when Yanhua begins to speak the new plan, though I worry that perhaps he might need someone a bit stronger than Memorie, who is still but a small filly, just beginning to grow into her adult figure. I can tell that Yanhua’s leg bothers him greatly, and I feel like he would do well to have someone to lean against. Though, this could also be me grasping at reasons to be by his side after his absence for so long.
Before he could finish speaking the ideas of a new plan, however, a small voice breaks the stiff silence that had followed Yanhua’s plan. I could see him stiffen, and for a moment, I feel like this trip up the Mountain had done more damage than just his knee or the worry he experienced over his children, but my attention lingers on this for only half a second before Reynard makes his way into the dim glow that surrounds his father.
In that moment, a lot happens. All of our voices mingle in calling out to the young boy, and our bodies bump together in the rush to approach him, though he seems more intent on comforting his mother than paying attention to the rest of us. I choke back sobs of relief as I back away slightly, allowing both mother and father to fret over the child. Memorie seems to understand this, too, and steps back with me, gently brushing her nose against mine.
But there is still something missing. Only one child had entered the small clearing where we stood, but not his sister, and that moment of elation turns back to worry. Yanhua wastes no time in asking of her, though, but I could see it in the look in his eyes, Reynard did not know where Cheri was. I look to Memorie, and she is quick to understand. She steps forward. “If Reynard is here, perhaps Cheri is as well? You guys stay here,” she pauses, her eyes obviously traveling to her father’s wounded knee, “I will go look!” Before anyone could object, she had darted off into the darkness. I stand there, looking absolutely flabbergasted and perturbed. “Okay,” I say with mild annoyance tinging my voice, “just run off without anyone saying ‘okay.’”
It wasn’t long before something happened, though. Memorie didn’t appear in the darkness, but she sends an elated memory that can only mean one thing: she has, at the very least, located Cheri’s whereabouts. I look to @[Yanhua] and @[Amarine] and Reynard. Had they felt it, too? Judging by the looks on their faces, they had.
02-16-2021, 06:26 PM (This post was last modified: 02-16-2021, 06:26 PM by Amarine.)
Tornados from a butterfly's wing
She was drowning in emotions.
Love. Rage. Fear. Relief. Exhaustion. Elation. Everything vied for her awareness at once, and she couldn't untangle her own feelings from those of the horses around her. It was all a jumble. Too much for her to process.
Reynard was here, he was safe, and Cheri was not far behind him. That was all she needed to know. It was one small, logical point in her brain that let the rest of her fall apart now. They were safe, they were home, and now-
"I have to- I need to go." She said, forcing the words past the tears constricting her throat. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, surreal and distant while she tried to maneuver out of the crush of bodies. Her skin crawled where Borderline had been touching her, the sensation of too much weight crushing down on that one spot, that she couldn't seem to shake free of.
Stumbling through the dark, her breath came in panicked gasps, harsh and fast. Too much, too much, it was all too much and she couldn't handle it. Couldn't escape it either, not with all those feelings ricocheting through her mind. All she wanted was to be numb enough to sleep, and couldn't begin to guess where to find that kind of peace. If she was throwing off bolts of her own Panic, she was sorry for it, but there was nothing to be done. All she could do was keep stumble-trotting away and hoping she got far enough to lessen the weight of it all or passed out from sheer overwhelm. Either would be acceptable at this point.
Rey pressed into his sire's barrel, flattened by the tidal wave of negative energy his mother had shed as she'd left them all behind. It was astounding and more terrifying than anything else he'd felt since their adventure had begun. It was, he worried, all his fault.
