Nicodemus
N
icodemus had carried on since the creek incident, crossing the first run off and making his way back through more forest. He picked more herbs and worked to keep his wound tended to, making sure to let the journal absorb the herbs’ energy. Or what he assumed it to be. The day had been long already, and still he knew nothing other than some of the inner workings of the journal he had admittedly latched onto. Would this book and its powers help him learn of the truth behind who he was? He wasn’t sure, and the more he tried to think on it, the more his head pounded. As if attuned to his stuttered sigh, the journal writhed in his telekinetic hold, popping open and flipping rapidly through the pages before landing on the page that bore the dock leaves it had collected earlier. Reactionary… Nicodemus plucked the leaves and popped them into his mouth to chew as he shut the journal again. He kept following the sound of another water source as he rendered the herbs to paste. He reached the second creek and approached it much slower this time. Feet dredged through the damp grass before Nicodemus plopped down to the ground tiredly. His head felt as if it were trying to combust. He was pushing himself too hard and he knew it. Yet despite it all, he wanted to remember, damn it! Nico’s hoof hit the water’s surface, sending an arc of water out from the force. Another pang of pain shot through him, and his journal shuffled through its insides to coax another dose to its owner. Nicodemus, however, felt too weak to even bother with it. While it hopped around, pages aflutter between his two front hooves, Nicodemus slowly slumped forward, world growing dark around him. His face landed in the water, the gentle bobbing of it lulling him back into unconsciousness. Under his neck, the open journal sat, pages tapping against his fur as he succumbed to the unrestful sleep that waited for him.
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