It was a very odd felling for Miroku to grip so tightly to the birthed creature. Under normal circumstances, he would gently hold the prize in his arms. Cradling and gentile. This time his hands pushed around the slippery being so tightly, he saw his fingertips disappear into its sides. He wanted no chance of it squirming away from him. He wanted to kill it. He couldn't imagine how Inuyasha felt.
The thing was not ugly, which surprised him. It was smooth skinned—and it was like skin, rather than scales—and tucked neatly into a coil in his hands. It was either dead or nearly head, because there was no movement, no heart beat, no sound from the thing. With its tail curled tightly around its head, the anole seemed almost innocent. Almost like a baby. But Kagome's blood was coated along its exposed claws and skin, bringing complete repulsion back to the monk. Holding it out to Kaede, Miroku felt like he wanted to twist its neck.
The old woman's gnarled hands worked quickly as she started muttering under her breath a prayer Miroku barely remembered. He joined in; matching her tone beat for beat, but kept his attention on the seemingly vanquished lizard. Then the old priestess cupped a handful of the powder, and tossed it almost casually onto the anole in his hands.
That was when it came alive. The monk felt himself instinctually dig his fingers in more as it suddenly began arching and squirming away. It lashed out, scratching at his wrists, the back of his hands, his beads, and nearly pulling them away from the deadly hole in his right hand. It thrashed and bucked as Kaede again flung another handful of the mushroom powder at it. It bit into Miroku's knuckle, but he held it fast even as he saw small drops of blood run down his palm.
He could feel its anger. It coursed through his mind and nerves. So much hate and anger, but not toward Kaede or Miroku. It was at the world. It fell around him and coated him like a horrible bitter after taste. And what came with it was sorrow. The thing was the last of her kind, or so far as she knew, and this was the end of them. She bit and arched away from his grip, but he could feel her weakening physically as Kaede chanted and tossed powder on her. She weakened physically, but the fire and coat along Miroku's skin didn't subside. It grew in magnitude, and until her very last movement, tormented Miroku almost enough to feel sorry for her. Then he felt the emotion drop from him, as if tied to a heavy boulder that was just pushed over a cliff.
Miroku snapped his hands back from the body, and let it fall to the ground with a thud.
"Forgive me," he muttered as he stood and stepped over the small body before him.
Kagome lay before him, wide open and exposed. From the outside she didn't look much different than any other woman after a hard birth. Kagome had even managed not to tear, amazingly enough, and that was unusual. Whether she was torn outside or not, Miroku had little doubt about the condition of her insides. She was surely severely damaged on the inside, and probably bleeding profusely. He could do nothing for her. She would either pull out of it, or she would bleed to death internally. He couldn't reach inside her.
Miroku then looked to Inuyasha, who held the sleeping Kagome as he too rested his head on Sango's lap. He could have been asleep with his eyes closed and how still he was, but the monk knew better. Sango touched his ear lightly, and it flicked away.
"Inuyasha." The boy opened his eyes. "Inuyasha, you need to take Kagome home."
"Are you nuts?" He sat up, seemingly slightly embarrassed at where he had been laying. Maybe he had dozed off.
Sango looked down to Kagome. "He's right. They can heal her better in her time."
Inuyasha shook his head. "No way. They won't know how to deal with this."
"Inuyasha." Miroku spoke sternly to his friend. "Kagome could be bleeding to death, and we have no way to help her here. Her time has better medicines."
The dog boy sat wide-eyed.
"You will take her to her home and tell her mother what happened. She will know who to send for."
Inuyasha nodded quietly and gingerly bent to pick up his broken love. He held her cradled in his arms as Sango stood to help wrap the disheveled robe around her more securely.
"Bring her back safe," she whispered. The silver hair bobbed as he nodded.
He was gone before Miroku could say the same.