Duskfire Glacier Failures are inevitable [M]

It did not matter, they were pregnant and in the pit of sharp rocks, there would be no arguing with him. His tawny eyes flickered between the trio, but mainly the pregnant pair while his brain worked a way out of his situation. None of it would be painless, nor dignified but it would have to do. His plan was to, no holds barred, climb out using all his strength, then mosey on out of there. Rye knew he could do it but not if he should do it, no, none of that mattered when his pride was on the line. While Lane and Tzila talked to him, Rye was silently planning his escape route from the pit (and them), only catching the ends of their respective words. "I am a being!" He snapped. 'What?' , he thought, visibly confused by his own words. "I mean, I am fine. I don't need help and I don't need any of you." With that said, Rye scrambled his way up and over the lip of the little ravine. A series of grunts and growls poured from his throat, guttural and as course as sand, it was clear the pain was overtaking all his senses. Once his feet found him, his head began to feel flooded and heavy, almost as if he could feel the liquid in his brain slosh around. He remained still, his head physically wobbling to counter each wave of dizziness and blurry vison that struck him all at once. The pictures refused to line up and his frequent blinking didn't help either, Rye was starting to believe trees and grass always looked doubled up. He stopped trying to correct his vison and started walking instead. Whoever, if anyone, was talking would be ignored. The ringing in his ears would drown them out anyhow. His walking looked like that of a new borns first steps, sloppy, uncoordinated and hasty. Each foot did not land where they naturally should have landed, instead they overlapped or went awkwardly off to the side. Internally Rye was dumbfounded, not a clue why walking hurt and why it was difficult. Something was wrong, he felt scared, lost and shaky. There was a nonverbal voice telling him to seek help, it was relentless and difficult to ignore but Rye tried anyway. He began to walk faster, away from them. 'Who?'. Far away, anywhere but near them. 'Why running?', he asked himself. Rye was going to look behind him but a volatile wave of nausea had him losing his lunch, nothing but foam came up however. Just like that he fell down onto his belly, the context of everything that had transpired faded in and out of his brain. All he could do was lay there in shame and utter embarrassment, with few clues as to why.