The numbing shock of war is behind me now. Pain has taken its place. Hurts to move. Hurts to breathe. The back of my head throbs with every step of my horse. I look at the world through the hazy lens of fever and somehow see it clearer. What is death? What is this thing we all share? Rabbits, birds, horses, trees, everyone I love and everyone who loves me. Even stars die, and we know absolutely nothing of it.
Elsa [internal]
