F***ing K’wathlegonx.
AKA - a Tree B*st*rd.
I don’t even remember how this started. I just know I’m in deep sh*t.
I’ve started to black out on stuff like this. I wake up either in the doo-doo or in the aftermath, a blurry place between dreams and waking. Muscles ache, wounds sting - I think I’m real enough. But I know I shouldn’t be here, and I’m not sure which here is real.
Agnar slices as much as it can, but I’m not even sure this time there will be an aftermath.
Anyway, who f***ing cares? Onwards.
