SP 002
[Setting: Late afternoon, misty, The forest]
The world was turning. Left, right, left and left again. He felt his hands scraping against something rough, it easily broke down when he putted his weight on it. Ah, bark, of course. Which totally explained the scent of moss, wet ground and the drops on his skin because it wasn’t sweat. Struggling with walking straight Doirnan leaned against a random tree. The whispers in his head made him wince in pain. Oh god, what was this feeling. The throbbing in his head made it hard to think straight, occasional a string would travel down his spine making the man groan. This wasn’t good. His stomach took an invincible punch and soon he felt his knees collide with the ground. Twigs and leaves under him dug through his pants. It wasn’t even bothering him, as he leaned forward and coughed up his early dinner. Good Grace, what was this feeling!
