A strange ache and little else
So I don't know how to feel. My friend was in real danger, so much so that she couldn't manage to call me to save her. I will kill the people that hurt her. I will cut down their trees, burn their village, and slaughter all their sons. I will be damn the soil rich with their blood with salt from the sea. I will poison their lakes and rivers and streams that feed their lost lands. I will unearth their ancestors merely to make their bones into my fence. And they will never know whose army touched them, who haunts their dreams and sickens their days. Rare do I feel such burning passion over anything but no one shall ever take mine own into harm. I was sick again today. One has agreed that my terms are suitable. Lets see if the other agrees as well. I wonder how I truly feel. I am pulling on an old cloak to hunt down burning blood. I will slip lower then I have in a long time to seek my vengence in such a way that is all but unheard of anymore. Ancient gods have not seen the flux of such anger in so long. My body aches from it. I will say more when I actually see something besides red.