I sulked for hours on end, feeling a powerful sensation of dejection. iWhy/i had everyone I loved deserted me? What had I ever done to the world to deserve this much despondency? My vision blurred as the tears that were repeatedly falling from my eyes, and the rushing water of the river soon became indistinguishable for that coming from my eyes. Loneliness was perhaps the most extreme form of pain one could ever experience.

Eventually I picked myself off the ground and grudgingly found a place to sleep. I wasn't nervous about being snuck up on at all, though; there was a reason that the Dead Lands were called the "dead" lands. Dead is exactly what they were. And I hoped that I wouldn't be synonymous with it anytime soon. I just wanted my life to turn around.

For the next week I was in a practically comatose stage, not moving at all from my chosen position in the small cavern I had taken refuge in. Despite the fact that I was already painfully thin, I did not eat for that whole interval of time. I just couldn't find the strength to even stand up, let alone find myself a square meal. I drank out of a small puddle that was a few feet away from my little spot.

But the stabbing pains of hunger in my stomach eventually won the battle, and I got up and stabbed a couple of small fish to eat from the river. It got rid of the pains in my stomach, although I could've eaten more.

Gradually I became less slim, and I exercised myself more. Running seemed to clear my head, and I liked that. I spent a few hours each day running around aimlessly and my strength returned to me. Physically, I was fully okay, and mentally…well, I was getting there.

Nobody ever came near my cave, and I rarely smelled a single living soul, save the fish. I did occasionally smell some of Ripred's band a few miles away, but even I wasn't that good. I could only smell their presence, nothing else. They weren't coming for me, and that was all that mattered.

I soon came to prefer living this way to my Tankard cave. Here I could roam freely about, and I didn't have to hide my presence. The only minor setbacks were that I was getting sick of fish, and I still felt isolated. But it turned out that that wasn't so minor, because eventually, the insanity started.

I am one of those gnawers who need some kind of company to stay sane, and as I didn't have that, my sanity started slipping away. I began talking to myself, as if there were two beings in one Twitchtip.

"So, Twitchtip, what would you like to do today?" I would ask myself aloud every morning, skipping around my cave. My sense of self seemed almost nonexistent.

"Well, what choices do we have, Twitchtip? We can run, sleep, or eat. Quite an array of decision!" I would say, smiling freakishly.

And then there were those times when my sanity seemed completely lost, and I would mutter things that made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

"Oh no, I've lost my trousers! Must run off to find them!" That crazy statement escaped from my mouth one day, and I spent hours wandering around, looking for my "trousers". I now realize how stupid I was. Rats didn't even iwear/i trousers, let alone lose them!

"You forgot the cream sauce! You forgot the cream sauce! This just can't be right!" There was another stupid statement, which escaped me after eating a bunch of fish for breakfast.

And then I jumped into the river one day. "Look, fishies! I can swim like you guys!" I shouted, and I paddled away in the waist-deep water. It was lucky the current was weak that day. I even feel stupid now, admitting to be behind this bull crap. Psychotic would be an understatement. I was utterly demented.

I was amazed that I managed to survive, but apparently my survival skills were not blacked out by my psychopathic actions. I was still managing the necessary tasks. I fished, (though occasionally muttering nonsense to the fish, who obviously weren't comprehending a word I was saying), drank (though sometimes I choked on my water, and laughed about it afterwards), and ran (although I nearly always lost track of what I was doing, stopping at a completely uninhabited place and thinking I was surrounded by others). My scent-seeing abilities were also still functional, but thankfully no potential danger erupted.

But these insane periods never lasted long, and before anything completely delusional happened, I was sane again, and I sneered at myself for losing control. The problem was, the madness returned on and off, so I was left feeling like a normal gnawer one day, and a freak the next. What a life.

One of my better days found me lazing around by the river, eating fish and wondering, as usual, what I was going to do with my life. I couldn't ipossibly/i live there forever, could I? Someone would find me eventually, and it was doubtful that they would just leave a semi-insane, deranged scent-seeing gnawer alone in the Dead Lands.

I contemplated on weather or not to leave my little corner if contentment, to find somewhere to spend the remaining years of my life, which probably wasn't going to be much longer, anyway. I was wanted among gnawers all across the Underland, and with Twirltongue still alive, I was prepared to bet my tail that she would round up a band of followers and come looking for me. Besides, I had never intended this to be a permanent home, s why not go looking for one?

But I still wasn't nearly sane enough to ponder this for very long, so I just finished up my fish and curled up in my cave for a much needed nap.

--

Something was nibbling my tail.

That was the first clear thought I had after I had been unceremoniously jerked out of sleep. There was something eating my tail.

Wearily I raised my head, letting my groggy sleep vision clear before I looked to see what was eating at my tail. To be honest, I wasn't that fussed. On those terrible days when I was mentally retarded, I had dipped my tail into the river countless times and let the fish nibble at my tail that this sensation already felt normal. I figured I was just doing it again.

But it was a moment before I realized that I was in my cave, not beside the river.

I sat bolt upright, and to my dismay, my utter, horrified dismay, saw a swarm of mites scrabbling out of a crack in the cave wall. A few of them were beginning to chew through the flesh on my tail!

Without thinking, without even planning my next move, I ran. I ran straight to the river and plunged into the icy water, just desperate to get away from those flesh-eating mites.

I hated swimming, hated the feeling of letting my body succumb in the cold liquid, but now, I felt like it was the smartest thing I had ever done. Those fish that I had feasted on each and every day were now having a feast of their own, on the mites that had wanted to feast on me. It was like a chain reaction; I eat the fish, the fish eat the mites, and the mites eat me. But I wasn't going to let the last part of the chain happen.

My fur was soon drenched, but by now I was sure all the mites had left my tail. I gingerly lifted it out of the water and examined it. At the very tip they had revealed bone and it was stinging horribly, but somehow the icy feel of the water helped diminish it. I couldn't—and wouldn't—stay in the water for much longer, though, so I slowly dragged myself up on the riverbank, chest heaving.

With a heavy heart I realized I could never go back to my cave, the only home I had really had in months. It would be too risky, what with the mites roaming around. I had to move on.

I fixed the knowledge of how to escape the mites in my mind. You never know; it might come in handy one day.