Emberwood whatever it might take, i'm finding a way

Turmeric had run as far as he could, until he could run no longer.

This world which had once been a place of majesty now seemed a hostile land. Every tree seemed to cry, their leaves falling like sunken tears. He sank into them, once he finally stopped running. They carried the colours of the Redsand, and of the blood being spilt in the Vale he had left. There was no way anyone could have survived the onslaught of Ursus. Even Nyra.

Turmeric didn't want to think about the others. He didn't want to think about that ugly, awful feeling that filled his belly with bile. He didn't want to think about those ugly, awful thoughts that filled his mind with ugly things whenever he thought about mom, and Ursus, and how he had run.

They had taken everything from him - and that made the ugly and the awful grow, and he didn't want to think. So instead, he buried himself into the thick layer of leaves, too tired to run any further.

The trees had cried their tears for him. He had none left to give. And he felt the ugly awful burning him up with something new.