I took the splints off today.
What choice did I have? I cannot move with them on. I have to move. I have to leave here. I have to find him and I cannot do so if I am immobile.
It hurts. It aches. I am not fully healed yet, but I cannot sit and wait. He has been gone for too long. I am weakened. After these long weeks of being unable to move, my muscles have wasted. Not too much, though, not too much. I can build it back up again along the way if I grit my teeth and ignore the dull throb.
Only my left hand remains bound now. I can get by without using it. I need my legs, though, I need my arms. I need...
I need...
I need to stopper my ears. I need to close my eyes. I need to block it out. I hear them, I hear them still. They whisper. The voices, they call. The dead man smiles, smiles to me from the shadows. I have to get away from here, from them. I have to find Davick. They stayed quiet when he was with me. They fear him, I think, fear the howl of the wolf.
But what if he comes back? What if he comes looking for me and I am not here?
