Thank you so much, Reviewers.
And sorry if it's ...irksome in any way, but for those of you who missed it, I did mention that the chapters might be getting shorter.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Thirty-Sixth Waking.
This is our last fire. No more wood.
When I woke up, Greys was back and asleep. He looked tired. So I slept again too. Does that make this the thirty-seventh waking then?
Does it matter?
I wish we could sleep forever. Or is that wishing for death? I'm just tired, and Greys must be more so.
But it was easier-going this waking. We went a long way before we had to guess again, before we had to guess which way to go. The arrows he marked were clear.
Now he is gone again. Marking.
Do his muscles burn as mine? They must. And my stomach feels like a hole. His must be a great empty pit.
He is just so solid and sure, and he is the devil to argue with. He can't do this again. Not again. I won't let him go if he tries again next waking. Is it killing him?
And here I am letting fear kill me.
And I feel ashamed. I feel useless, helpless. To myself. To Greys. What am I doing here?
My knee... My leg, it hurts. Is that any excuse? Greys thinks so. He says it won't do me any good if I break my bones from a wrong step in the Rocks.
But I can't let him again. It won't do him any good if he over-exerts himself and becomes too weak to move at all.
Is he trying to prove something? To me? To himself? Does he still feel guilty? The need to atone for something? Is that why he helps me so? So many deaths were not his fault!
I sit.
And even in the booming and whistling, it seems quiet. Because he is gone away.
I don't like the lack of his company. It's so lonely. It makes me crazy and I write strange things. I couldn't stand it yester-waking. He can't do it again.
The thought tickles my pen: what if he dies?
I shake my head. I can't think about it. Not right now.
There is nothing else to say. I stop.
Dear family, in case I die, finish my story. I love you.
Alexandro