Lost Creek Hollow the days are muted

Time had passed, but he could not say how long. Hours, perhaps? There was a shooting pain in his stomach – a reminder that he had not eaten a true meal for days. He still did not unfurl himself from his position – insisting only on maintaining safety for now after the ordeals of weeks past. But it was a soothing voice that did stir him, though he stiffened in reaction.
 
The voice sounded like a song, and instantly Pippin did not trust it – was this not hallucinations now, come to take him to the next world? He almost prayed it were – he was done here, he felt. There was no joy. There was no light. There was simply nothingness.
 
Yet his hallucination crept closer – he could smell her on the breeze now but he did not move.. he did not know if he should greet what he assumed to finally be the angel of death that would take him, or if he would fight to stay within such a cold world.