AGAIN I DO NOT OWN ANY ASPECT OF THIS FANFICTION
You can probably find the original at the Palace of the Evil Shee

"Annie?" A voice. More felt than heard. It seemed to buzz around her head, leaving unpleasant echoes. She knew that voice...

"push norn" A small furry hand reached down and tickled her.

"push"

"norn" These voices were norns. Further off, a ball bouncing.

"Come Hand. Come toy." the first voice commanded, and feet scurried off into the distance.

"Annie? Can you hear me?" She moved her head slightly, making it ache. She felt stiff all over, and as she looked up, a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over her.

"Annie hurt." She cried plaintively.

"Annie push Hand"

"Annie, wake up now." The Hand gently tickled her. "The grendel's gone."

Annie shook her head to clear it.

"When... grendel... the grendel attacked me!" She sat bolt upright, causing sparks to fly in front of her eyes.

"It's gone. I got rid of it. I found the norns attacking it, and you and Christoo curled up side by side."

"I feel.. so sick." She muttered.

"The grendel secretes a poison. You got a bad dose. You'll be all right, given time."

"And Christoo? What about Christoo?" A rising anxiety had her in its grip, as she remembered those last few nightmare seconds.

"Annie... I'm so sorry..." The Hand moved, and she saw that It had been obscuring the tiny, curled up corpse of the child she had known so well. He looked as if he was lost in pleasant dreams, except for the absence of any breathing.

"I didn't get here in time, and he was so young." The Hand said sorrowfully.

"It wasn't your fault." Annie replied dully. Her head felt so thick, as if she was unable to think properly.

"You looked after him very well. He was very happy. These norns do not have the maternal instinct you have."

"Can I bury him?"

"There is no graveyard in Prehistoric Albia. I will mark his passing though. I already have, in fact. His body will disappear soon. It'll just vanish."

"I want... to stay with him." She said. It didn't seem real. Nothing seemed real, and talking in Modern Nornish was proving more difficult than she though it would after speaking only Prehistoric for so long. She had to concentrate to remember every word.

"Very well. Get some rest. You need plenty of sleep, and food. You're still not at all well." The Hand did not add that she was only alive due to constant energy injections. The fact that she had spoken in Prehistoric Nornish on waking vaguely worried It.

Annie sat and watched the child until it finally disappeared. Then she sat and watched the space where Christoo had died, hoping for darkness to come, and wondering why she couldn't cry.

Darkness never did fall, though, and she never shed a tear.