Pan had never felt so awful. As he lay prone in the grass, the world seemed to spin and roar around him. A kaleidoscope of colors haunted his vision, and when he closed his eyes, the images grew worse. Gnashing teeth. Yellow eyes. Dancing demons. His skin seemed to crawl with fire one moment and then with the itch of thousands of marching locusts the next. And despite his prayers to any god who would listen, there seemed to be no reprieve.
Oliver was gone for far too long – it could have been hours, though in fact it was mere minutes before the chortling creature was back at his side, brushing against him at all angles and hoping to chase away the pain. Pan moaned, pushing him away as sweat covered his body, as much from fear as from fever. He blinked up at Pravda, hearing his voice but seeing his face swimming far above. He may as well have been speaking another language, for the words were jumbled, though edged with concern.
The scaled boy tried to concentrate harder, making out a few questions then. Didn’t… eat… he tried to remember, but couldn’t think of anything with poison that he may have consumed. Pieces of memory come back to him then… the tall grass, with its fluffy tops. Others had often told Pan that his curiosity would get the best of him. Maybe he should have just left it alone. Grass… it looked so soft… His voice is a mumble, as he sighs and wills away the confusion as much as he could.
Was this was it was like to die, Pan wondered? If he could, he would have retched again and again, but even as he chokes on the bile which rises in his chest, no relief comes. He tries to focus again on the black and white stallion, but instead finds himself staring at Prigovora. Is that… it looked like one of the demons in his vision. Is that a dinosaur? He laughs incredulously, though the sound is weak and half hearted as he shivers with a sudden spasm of chills, too frail to stand and greet the stranger and his even stranger pet.
@Pravda
