I wasn’t becoming the ground; I was being absorbed into it. Strangely, I was not afraid. My limbs would not move. My mouth could form no words. I tried to make a simple sound, but no air would release from my throat. I seemed to be breathing, but I could not move. I was in a dream. I became the soft green moss. I thought to reach out for Ciaran with my mind, but I could not raise the ambition to do it. What is wrong with me?

I gently sunk, closing my eyes and ears into sleep or something similar. I was aware of myself as moss, with its small inhabitants and its wee movements, seeking nourishment and growth. I had not a care. No desire, no issue to concern me. No memory of my comrades or my purpose.

Until, with a thud, I landed on a hardened floor. I lay there like a fawn hiding in the grass. I felt my distinct self again, but my eyes were blind or covered. All was the deepest black. The dark was so thick, nothing penetrated it. I had no sense of a beginning or an end.