Lost Creek Hollow Giggle and the flames grow higher

He felt as if he was burning. Atreus moaned this time, fighting to open his eyes, only to squeeze them closed against the morning glare. His breaths came in shallow gasps as the memories of the day before came crawling back to him.

He had crept into the stream convinced Masquerade had gutted him and he was finished. Atreus had simply hoped to remove his remains from her reach. He hadn’t expected to survive.

In agony now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to live. When someone came along to render aid, he thought about pushing her away. He weakly raised a leg and brushed it against her, yet he lacked the strength. It dropped back to the ground like a limp noodle.

She vanished for a moment. Atreus heard her say something but didn’t heed her words, so when she began to dress his wound, he let out a great holler. His entire body jerked.

That, he gasped weakly, hurts.

He rolled his upper body just in time to vomit onto the grass pillowing his head a moment before. What seemed like a gallon of water came out of him, burning his throat like acid.

Maybe he hadn’t survived. Perhaps he was burning in hell.