Blackfeather Woods the haunting

He bore his fangs at both figures as they moved around him, unable to focus his eye for the time being; a ghost and a shadow entwined, and he expected them to morph in to something diabolical. He heard the voices and they made sense to his brain, but their images did not — gradually, Titmouse could focus, but when he looked at Maegi he saw her in double; one side shifting away from the other, one clean and perfect and the other marred by her crooked grin.

Whether the shadow slipped away or not, Titmouse wasn't watching them. He blinked against the blurring of his vision and lightly shook his head, as if that would help. Maegi's dual-self did not clarify and the shaking only served to make him quite dizzy. The bulk of the hallucinations must have come to a close by now but he still felt ill; like he'd been chewing on grass, while his belly rolled and twisted with nausea. He licked his lips again and tasted the dried blood on them, wadded up a ball of it on his tongue and spat in to the grass — and the blob contained a chunk of feather.

Maegi— he murmured piteously as he gagged, but didn't manage much else.