The Choice to Fight
Krala coughed as her eyes opened again, her squared black pupils widening nearly to circles. She…she remembered.
The strongest thing she felt right now was the memory of her mother's warm hold, and that was enough to push away the numbness and cold that had creeped into her.
She could feel her body again, feel her mind think again and her sight steady, and she held onto that warmth, that embrace, with all her might and love because she knew that if she did not, it would fade away like an ember in a gust, and when that fire died, she would go to do the dark place.
But she could not go to the dark place. Not now, not yet, even if it meant that with the cold and numb gone, she could start feeling the hurt again. Hurt everywhere. On her one remaining arm and its pulped hand, her mangled foot, bruised chest, bruised everything, and broken ears.