Another round of cursing and grimacing and other such things one does when they're dying but too stubborn to actually do so, and I managed to claw my way up the steps back to the first floor of my Ranger outpost-turned-personal hideout, leaving a trail of ash and dark sticky liquid behind me like the world's saddest mutated slug. See, even my metaphors--which have always been sub-par, mind you--got shredded in the accident.

“Hype!” I called for the briarbane through the half of my mouth that still worked. “Hype get over here right now!”

“What's wrong, Madison,” she called out from the kitchen. “I heard a loud noise, and the house shook, and it knocked all of the glasses and cookware of their shelves, but I didn't go see what it was because you told me to leave you alone whenever you were downstairs so I did and—”

I finally worked up the energy to interrupt her. “Just shut up and come help me!” It sounded more like the mewling of a dying animal than a coherent sentence as I laid there on the musty carpeting of the house's entryway.

The soft pattering of Hype's footsteps grew louder until she rounded the corner. The glass she held slid from her grip and shattered into a dozen pieces on the floor as she covered her mouth and stifled a shriek.

“M-Madison! Are--”

I snapped at her, “Does it look like I am?”

In a flash, she was knelt by my side, resting a hand on a small strip of my shoulder that hadn't been singed by the fireball. “I-is there anything I can do for you?”

“Help me up,” I grumbled. “Everything is broken.”

Hype was never one to get hyperbole. “[/i]Everything?[/I] Then how did you get up here? How are you talking right now?”

“By the sweat dripping from Hromagh's hairy balls, just pick me up and carry me to one of the quarters, Hyperion!” Even now, the dryadic magic stored in my briarheart was starting to kick in, working overtime to knit my body back together. A nap and a raw slab of meat would help speed up the process a bit.

Hyperion hooked her arms under mine, careful not to dislocate anything else as she picked me off the floor, fussing the entire time about how my lab robes were completely ruined. She got me three feet closer to a bed when there was a knock on the door.

“Fuck off!” The order came out before the realization hit me--we had a guest. A guest. All the way out here. Several miles--days, really--off the beaten paths deep within the heart of Concordia. Where nobody was supposed to know I was living.

The intruder ignored me. “Hello? May I come in?”

Hype snapped to attention, her desire to be Best Friend To All overriding her common sense. “Who is it?”

Oh, if I could move either of my arms, I'd've slapped her upside the head.

“I'm looking for, ah, a Madison Freebird? Does she live at this residence?”

Shit shit shit shit shit. I racked my brain for anything I might be wanted for lately--all of my recent schemes and experiments have failed miserably before the Rangers or Imperials could even catch wind of them, and as far as I knew I wasn't wanted in Salvar, and the Alerarans knew to leave me well enough alone--

“I believe you have the wrong house,” Hype tried.

The mysterious voice hemmed and hawed for a moment. “That's weird, weird indeed. You see--”

A man in a pristine three piece suit walked through my front door and materialized in the entryway. His skin was a pale blue and translucent, his eyes two glowing orbs set into a handsome face. His hair was neatly combed. In his hands, he held a clipboard and a pencil.

“--according to the resume I received, this is Miss Freebird's address. And unless this was a mistake on her part, one that, based on what we know about her, is next to impossible...”

The suit spirit looked up from his clipboard, glancing at me as I was draped over Hype's shoulder, clothes mostly burned away, oozing what passed for blood, shredded plant matter hanging off various parts of me.

“Oh, goodness, I'm terribly sorry. Is this a bad time?”