a month after his talisman had been taken, and lestan still had not come to the creek.
he had gone quite mad, truly now, and fully; he explored the pockets of coastal region with single-minded intent, ignorant of @Elodie or @Swordfish or @Bonario, if he was followed; only @Blossom's presence could have broken him from it, and only for a time.
he did not eat. he barely slept. 
he followed the witch and her familiar, and he heard the bone amulet crying out in his dreams when he did pass out from sheer exhaustion.
hatred and anger carved hollows into his face, sank his eyes; his stutter was gone now, for he hardly spoke, and when he did it was in that blackened monotone.
the taiga spread before him now, and he shivered, feeling a deep grief clutch him. glancing frantically back toward the shoreline, lestan forced himself into the unfamiliar terrain, searching for any hint of the woman or what she had taken from him.