Fairspell Meadow the sound of silence

It would live on in memory as one of the most hideous things she had ever been compelled to do. Bazi nearly chipped her teeth in an effort to sever the slimy bundle of strings as quickly as possible, and the sound of her son screaming shattered her heart. Metallic-tasting saliva flooded her mouth, and the impulse to vomit tightened her empty throat and gut - the eyeball rolled off her tongue and into the grass, followed by a string of spittle and bile.

Bazi hastily wiped her mouth and turned back to Swift, who had been reduced to a quivering mess. His socket was a mess of black nothing, but the blood was not flowing as freely as before - a good sign. He might almost look presentable after a serious bath and a few weeks to heal; in her delirious denial, Bazi might even have described one of the narrower claw-marks as 'neat work'.

"You'll be just fine," she soothed, and promptly got down to the business of cleaning him up, starting on the bib of dried blood that covered his face and working up towards the source. Her voice and actions were brusque, separated from panic by a paper-thin veil of false confidence. Of course he would be fine. "But you'll need to help me, OK? You need to tell me what to give you. Alright? You're the healer now."