"For the last time, Fara, I am not leaving the city. This is my home now, not some canopy of leaves in a muddy forest. This city is strong, the walls are strong, and the soldiers that guard it are strong and appropriately stupid. I'm safer here than I'd be anywhere else, and I'd rather go to the Hells before I crawled back to that dirtscratch village." Nev smiled and took another sip of his wine. A good vintage. Expensive; it was a good thing it was stolen.<br/><br/>The flash of light struck his back as he faced the fire. He felt Fara's hand in his own. Then only the wrenching sensation, like being stretched on a rack twice your size, and the emptiness in the pit of his stomach. A hard fall into the mud. Face down, as fate would have it. He turned his head to the side and gasped for breath.<br/><br/>Rising to his knees, he first saw Fara, already on her feet. He bent and vomited, the gorge from his stomach adding imperceptibly to the filth that surrounded him. He puked until dry, then spat to follow, his mouth filled with the taste of bile. Eyes tearing he looked around again. There was motion, voices.<br/><br/>He raised his face to the sky and yelled. "I didn't mean it! It was a figure of speech!" Bloody Gods.<br/><br/>