a caustic, fleeting thing

Sleep. Wake. Sleep. Wake. The same cycle, over and over. It was monotony, but Hazel could rely on it. She could rely on the sleep, even when the dreams dragged her from it. She could rely on the waking, now. Fuck. Fuck waking back up. Did she even deserve it? Had she deserved the fever breaking, and Halo's tears of relief when it came? That had been a couple weeks back, now. Had she hallucinated Halo crying over her? Was that real? Were any of her memories of the incident, the time after it... were they real? Were they just a defense that her head assembled to keep her sane?

Was she losing her mind?

Maybe staying holed up in her den was part of the problem. Halo wasn't big on the idea of her venturing out alone, but the healer had slipped away from the sleeping yearling to get some work done. A healer's job was never done, or some shit like that. It seemed that Hazel's injuries had aged her, and for that too, she felt guilty. Still, now that the pale little shadow wasn't hovering around her, maybe she could finally go... somewhere. Where would she even go? That, and Halo would have her ass if she found out she'd gone alone.

Padding carefully into the space between their dens, she called out softly for the Warlord. Halo couldn't get mad if she was with Sirius, right? Something like that. "Dad? Are you busy?"

"Speech"