Blackfeather Woods [m] The world laughed at any attempts we made to exist in it without pain

With his thanks having been offered, the boy had proceeded to clean himself. As always, he needed for his coat to retain the untouched beauty that he'd been born with, and so he was most attentive with his cleansing. For several minutes, he'd been left to carry on without any issues, but there'd eventually come a dryness to his mouth. At first, he'd done nothing more than shrug it off, assuming that a few too many loose strands of hair had decided to cling to his tongue. As time progressed, the feeling did not fade, but had instead worsened. It was only then that he'd realized something was wrong, eyes scanning the surrounding area as he sought out Cicero. Had the other done something to the rabbit? And if so, what? Why? Assuming that it was due to their fight, he'd immediately decided that the trick was a nasty, cowardly one. A growl clawed its way up through his throat, but had died out almost as quickly as it'd come.

Whether it was due to the amount of jimson weed that he'd ingested, or simply because he lacked any tolerance to it, perhaps it might never be known, but already had he been cast into his first hallucination. There, within the dark woods, stood his mother. She looked just the same as she had back when he'd been abandoned, for that was the last memory of her that he possessed. A breath hitched in his throat, Cicero having been forgotten, for the illusion was not perceived as being untrue. Rather, his mind assured him that it was real, that Scarlett was truly standing across from him. Still, it was with a great deal of hesitance that he'd started to walk towards her, only to stop and backpedal, retreating into the cave. "Go away," muttered the boy, recalling how she'd left him. He could not forgive her now just because she'd come to visit him at last, it wouldn't be that easy. "Go."