The small gravel of the path beneath their knees bring Fern's awareness of her surroundings back into keen focus.  The crunch upon that gravel as the attendants move about, the feel of the breeze caressing her bare skin, the scent of the ointment, weigh heavily on her overloaded senses.<br/><br/>Every breath laborous, ragged, in protest.  Her shoulders drawn forward in a defeated slump Fern seems to draw closer, the essence of her shrinking to protect that delicate core of sanity.  Adamion's actions for good or ill at this point pass unnoticed.  Miaren's voice through the bond ignored or unheard as she sinks inside.