Sun Mote Copse dead as dead can be

He’d been so caught in his own pain and misery that he had not noticed before now that she was blind. But he saw it in the way she moved towards him. She didn’t look at him, but kept her head straight, moving cautiously, almost like a deer. Her ears swiveled almost constantly as she walked. She moved closer to him, but her nose crinkled when she got close enough. 

She did not believe he had been struck, and he couldn’t blame her skepticism—especially since she couldn’t see his lightning scars. Without visible proof, he wasn’t sure there was any way to convince her that he wasn’t lying. Perhaps once he cleaned himself off he’d let her touch the scars, if she really needed answers. He blinked, shivered. The thought of letting someone touch the place where God had struck him… Perhaps he wouldn’t let her, after all.

He followed behind her, stiffly, as she led him to wherever they were going. A stream. Washing off the gunk that had clung to him for days sounded good, and the water might soothe some of his muscle soreness, though he wasn’t sure if anything would help the nerve damage. That pain seemed to turn on and off at random. He grit his teeth and forced himself to follow as a muscle in his leg spasmed. The spasms didn’t always hurt, but they were always annoying. 

“Thank you,” he said to her, as they walked along.