Chapter seven
Maelstrom

She tended the wound. Mal breathed heavily, as she concentrated.
"There is still some of it left." she said. Sire laid still on his stomach.
"What of?" he asked.
"Hatred." Mal replied.
"Yes..."
Fire burned in the back of Sire head. Gid had hit him hard. The wound throbbed. He felt like fainting, he was on an edge. Gloom surrounded him. Mal loomed in that gray gloom.
"No..." he thought, or said.
"Sick" Gid blamed him.
"Lie still..." Mal told Sire.

He went down in a pit of black. He tried to count, from one to five, but only got to two.
"Three" he continued. Napkin was there, nudged his shoulder. Night with no stars.
"Four" They walked on the grass. The fox gave him a stare, jogging along.
"Five" he stared back.
They came to a maeltstrom. Time-space whirled slowly in it. There, inside Sire could see stars. He remembered a feeling, fleeting past him. A star formed inside the whirl, near the edge. There was something unusual about it. There was something around it. Napkin stared at it, too. It took a step, reached to the whirl, and let itself float inside. Sire heard someone count. He felt and heard air rushing around him.
"Two" it was someone familiar.
"One" he had been there before.

He floated through a corridor. He felt so sick, and still had braces in his hands. Two men led him. They wore the deep blue uniform of the police.