Dasha quickly realized why Fia's aunt had wanted them to hold onto each other. The moment they laid hands (so to speak) on the shimmering purple thread, both women were nearly dragged away by the current it carried. 

Dasha felt an electric jolt course through her as she completely lost her footing. She was held in place by Fia's aunt, who was doing a much better job at remaining where she was. 

At least, Dasha assumed that she was staying still. The world had flipped on its head and cracked open, bleeding out an ever shifting kaleidoscope of colors and chaos, symbols spiraling into a watercolor haze that smeared across her sight and made it difficult to see.

"-Dasha? Dasha? Can you hear-"

At some point, Dasha realized, her mind or perception must have adjusted so that Fia's aunt's odd form of thought-speaking seemed normal to her. Not anymore, however. Now it was echoing the wrong way, just as uncanny as it had been the first time she'd heard her. 

Dasha tried to force herself to concentrate, or to at least follow the thread of the other woman's voice out of this synesthesia quagmire that was sucking her in and inside-out. There were pinwheels inside of her and her body was spinning in a cartwheel flip that she couldn't seem to tumble out of. 

And then, Dasha felt something of her being breaking under the strain, and she jolted loose, tugged along by Fia's aunt and the purple thread.

"There you are! Help me, quick!" The other woman urgently called.

Dasha shook herself out, then began to pull the thread alongside her. If they all made it through this, then she was coming back with enough questions to fill three novels. 

Dasha could feel the thread's characters catching on the cracks in herself. They tugged and teased at the gaps, threatening to force them wider. Dasha pulled as hard as she could. They needed to hurry. She wasn't sure where they were going anymore, but she blindly followed Fia's aunt until the woman exclaimed, "There!", with a shout of relief.

"Let go Dasha, and everything should snap right back."

Dasha didn't need to be told twice! 

She released the thread, and felt something like a rubber band snap through her. 

That hurt. 

And then she was waking up somewhere new, bright morning sun streaming into her eyes as her many, many injuries from the night before made her keenly aware that she had been returned to her real and physical body in the real and physical world, and ow ow ow could she please die now? 

Ow. 

Well. At least she must have gotten some hours of sleep then, right? 

A pained groan escaped her cracked lips, as she tried to sit up again. Once again, she failed, soreness seeping into every portion of her body, along with a sharp jolt to her shoulder where she fell. At least the grass was thicker here, wherever here was. Less rocky earth to dig into her broken wings. 

The grass smelled like sweet sorget. They were common in the lower parts of the mountains, and she recognized the crisp fragrance that floated around her. Easily half the trip done then, at the very least.

She needed to find the others. 

Which, brought her somewhat back to where she had started: Trying to stand while severely injured. 

Dasha heard wing beats. 

She closed her eyes and didn't move. She had neither the desire, nor the energy, to deal with any of the other Avar right now. 

"Look! Ama! Ama! There's something dead over there!" That one was clearly a child. Probably still learning how to fly, from how clumsy his strokes sounded.   

"Don't go near it!" And that would be his ama, his mother.

"Does it have plague? It looks awfully red..." Hmm. Dasha wasn't sure who this third voice was. He didn't sound old enough to be the father.

"I think so, yes. Come along now you two, let's get back. The flock will want to move further on and away from this, just in case."

Dasha heard two pairs of wings take off, one unsteady and quick, the other powerful and even. 

She very noticeably did not hear the third set fly away. 

After a few moments, she heard uneasy shuffling through the grass. The wary footsteps grew closer. 

Then a stick poked her wing blade. 

"OW! Stop that." She hissed, curling up involuntarily, grimacing as her pain multiplied.

She heard the young man jump back. 

"Ah! You're not dead!"

"Genius detective work, however did ya figure it out." She spat, her throat complaining from the effort. 

Dasha squinted through her lopsided field of vision. He was probably her age, with a mess of fluffy hair, brindle patterned wings, and enough freckles dotting his skin to make a ladybug jealous.

And even though his throat hadn't been slashed or smoke damaged, he too, seemed to have some trouble forming words.

"Well- I mean why-"

"Easier. Talking... hurts."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I, um, I can't- Can't really, uh, help ya, on account of... Um. Well. You know. Ya know?" 

He sounded a bit guilty about it. 

Dasha decided that she didn't care. 

"Yeah, ye-" She cut off, as her throat hacked up a wad of blood. 

...That was probably nothing to worry about, right?

"Just go- pretend... I's dead, oh... kay?"

"But, uh, but..." He trailed off, trying to think. 

After several moments, Dasha heard the final set of wings fly away, and then she was alone again.

Right. Noonin and Fia couldn't be passed out nearby. The young man or one of the other Avar would have commented on that. And if Noonin and Fia had woken up, they would already be with her, so that wasn't the problem. 

They must have been sent somewhere else then. Dasha hoped they were safe. 

And together. She didn't like the thought of Fia being out there all by herself.

She wasn't hearing anything from Fia's aunt anymore. She hoped that the woman hadn't hurt herself too badly. Dasha could still feel that something had shifted inside of her, and she suspected it was because of her little journey to the other layer of reality, whatever that had been.

Dasha tried to get comfortable on the grass. If she was this far down the mountainside, then the monsters should be a rarity. All she could do now was try her best to rest and recover.

And so, thoughts idly sifting through everything that she had learned so far, Dasha murmured off to sleep.

She woke up to a sharp pain in her shoulder.

"Ow- You? Again?" She slurred, still groggy.

She wanted to go back to sleep...

The young man from before tossed aside his stick, looking a bit sheepish.

"Um, sorry, sorry about that. I, uh, it took a while, because, ya see, I had to sneak around a bunch, and um, well..." 

He finally gave up, and held up a covered basket. 

"I got stuff! For you. I mean, of course it's for you, there's no one else around here, it's just, um, there's food, and water, and some medicine- ya drink the medicine, and a blanket- And I didn't steal anything! Or tell anyone I was getting it for ya, just, um, ya know, it's uh, uh..." 

His face grew increasingly red, as he fumbled over his words. 

Dasha took pity on him. 

"-Kay. Thanks. Is good." She managed to mumble, giving him the tiniest smile possible.

It still hurt.

"Okay, so um, obviously, I can't help you, or take any of this stuff back, so, um, I'll go and leave ya to it, and um... I'll fly back tomorrow! Or the day after. And uh, you don't have to still be here, obviously, I guess, but um, if you are, then uh... I don't know, but I can help..." 

He awkwardly trailed off, rubbing his neck.

Dasha melted a little. It had been a long time since another Avar had been so kind. 

Well, not counting other plague-wings. Or Fia, who was too young to know better. Or Fia's aunt, who was technically a ghost that had been cut off from other people for what was likely over a decade.

Hmm. She really should have gotten that woman's name, shouldn't she have?

Oh, had the young man left already? 

Dasha was disappointed. She had wanted to know his name too.

She glared at the latched basket. At least he had left it open and within reach. But getting things from it was going to be a pain. Literally.

...Maybe she could take another nap first. Just a quick one.

Sweet sorget grass wasn't the most comfortable of resting places when one was injured, but Dasha found it comforting all the same. It brought back memories of when she had been younger, running barefoot on the mountainside. 

True, she'd had no flock to migrate with, and she had been terribly alone, but the summer nights were fine and fair. It was the winter season that was the real killer.

Eventually, she had gone down to the city, and if her world grew noisier and filled with strangers, at least she wouldn't freeze to death. 

Granted, the dangers were different in the city. But she'd managed. Other plague-wings, other species... She wasn't wholly alone anymore, even if she was considered nothing more than diseased street trash.

Dasha forced herself to stretch an arm, straining to reach inside the small basket. 

She could feel that there was a blanket at the bottom, scratchy but still appreciated. A canteen that sloshed with water as she shifted it, sending her fingers stinging at the light pressure. Something spongy that felt like seed cakes. And a small clay vial. 

Well, the quality wasn't great, but she couldn't not be grateful. So few Avar would have bothered with her at all.

Gritting her teeth, Dasha tipped the basket over onto its side, so she could see the insides without forcing herself up. Her throat was so dry, and now that she could think of food, her stomach was aching.

Gingerly, she reached for the canteen. Pinpricks danced across her fingertips, as she struggled to get it any closer. Perhaps the vial was more manageable. What sort of medicine had the young man brought her anyways? All he had said was to drink it, was it pain relief or did it help speed up the healing process or was it something that would keep her from getting infected?

It was a liquid she could drink. That alone made it more useful. The clay vial slipped through her clumsy grasp several times, as she brought it closer and closer to her lips. Prying it open would have normally been easy, but now it took several minutes. 

On the brighter side, her hand was starting to feel better. 

Finally, Dasha popped the lid open. Shaking, she tried once more to push herself into a sitting position. She could hear terrible things happening around her ribs, and nausea threatened to undo her, but she stayed up this time. 

Dasha panted for breath, cold sweat soaking her hot skin. Maybe she could make it through this after all. 

A light smile played on her lips, as she brought the vial of medicine up to drink. 

She stopped, just as it was beneath her nose. The smell was familiar, perhaps she could identify it? Nomadic flocks often made their own medicines from the surrounding plantlife, and Dasha had picked up a great deal of knowledge from growing up out here. 

Mmmm. There was a warm, spicy smell to the brown liquid. Sharp, but not unpleasant. It must be spiceberries, a common pain relief treatment. Contrary to the name, it was not the berries which were used. The bark was bitter, and good for that, but the berries were salty, and held a dangerously high dose. The line between medicine and poison was dangerously thin. More than once, young Dasha had made herself sick by experimenting.

Wiping away some of the sweat from her palms on the grass, Dasha lifted the vial to drink.

She spat it out.

It was salty!

Why- 

Why would he have given her poison?