aquaphobia

Ever since he nearly drowned in the hot springs, Grimshaw found little reason to leave the Armada lately. Things were getting serious around there, and quickly others were becoming infected with either mushrooms or crystals growing out of their head, or a massive amount of ooze leaked out. Grimshaw considered himself lucky to have not been infected, but he had spent much of his time lately trying to do what he could for the pack while so many suffered from the pain and blindness the infection brought on. He was careful when he went out, always making sure to avoid hunting animals with the strange pelts or animals eating the strange plants or animals. Grimshaw didn't want to risk any further infection, so he often dressed the kill immediately, to make sure there wasn't any infection present.

He was out on another trip today, eager to hunt something larger within the woods nearby. As the winter was turning over into spring, animals would hopefully begin to return soon. However with the endless nights, infections, and winter still gripping on to the land, it would still be some time. Hunting was difficult these days unless you want to get infected.

Grimshaw had done his best to avoid thinking about Malachai since the incident. It hadn't been hard, with every dream ending in a violent struggle for air underwater. With the lack of sleep and overworking himself to make up for what the others couldn't do, Grimshaw was wearing himself out quickly. If it hadn't been for the incident, he'd likely be fine... but doubled with almost no sleep, he was having a hard time. He hid it well though, but nothing hid the exhaustion in his face as he wandered the woods looking for something safe to hunt.

"Speech."