“When I was awake enough for it, I counted blades of grass beside me. My parents and Mordon took rotations watching me, forcing drinks of water and broth down my throat. Dimly I knew that I couldn't stop now, but I didn't know where to go from here. Fey intuition, though, was a force not to be taken lightly. I could no more control who it was who died than I could conjure up a flame. The realization and acceptance of it did not come quickly, but gradually through dreams and a force of effort. A...nd so it was that I became resolved to go back into the woods. Before I was fit to do that, though, I had to regain my strength. During a time when I woke up to an empty room, I dragged myself up and went through the preparations for a healing potion. Years of practice made this automatic, and it seemed natural that the cupboard would supply me with precisely what I needed when I needed it. Mother's affection for the Wildwoods was wearing off on me, I thought while I stirred the no-cook drink together. The information Death had given me posed a couple of problems.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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