ai don fis disha spichen gona op

@Echelon

Title translates to: "I cured this lying warrior."

Emori isn’t going to get by on a little food, water, and sleep. She needs refuge, she needs time to heal, medicines; she needs her people.

She sighs heavily and she knows it is punishment to occupy her mind with these things. It doesn’t stop her. It’s what she deserves, she supposes, when no one else is around to enact justice and she isn’t able to do it herself.

Coward.

The wolf cringes as it echoes through her mind, taking up space she did not have room for. Emori is unable to shake free; to occupy her mind with something trivial seems useless for a debt unpaid by a lopar, deserter. Bile splashes the back of her throat and she struggles through a gag, stumbling over the embankment and halfway into the water. She laps quickly to wash the taste back but it promises a return and she knows she can’t fight it.

When her belly feels swollen from water, she shakily stands to all four limbs and backs out of the muddy water. She doesn’t shake her coat out while there’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach, a threat; her own body rebels against her.

"Odon, lopar," she whispers and the cycle threatens to start all over again.