I woke up in a feverish haze, hardly recalling what happened until I went to turn over.

And boy, did I suddenly feel what happened. A groan slipped from my lips as my hand hovered over the stitches, already feeling the heat pouring off of it. Instead of doing what I wanted to do, which was curling up under the tree and groan in pain, I slowly pushed myself up.

Even if I was away from the pride, I was nowhere near safe. The strip of unclaimed territory I was in at the moment could be housing all kinds of shifters, shifters that were kicked out or wanted by the law.

Those outlaws wouldn't hesitate to steal whatever I had and would slit my throat to make it easier for them. Though I was strongly starting to believe that might be a mercy kill.

My hand went to my face, slowing down at my chin before I took a deep breath and allowed my fingers to caress the flesh there. Letting them brush barely over my skin, I slowly reached up further and gulped as I came across raw flesh and blood.

I didn't have any antiseptics with me, nor did I have the time to build a fire to boil some water and rags. Surely the scent of my blood would attract any kind of hungry predator and I would be considered prey for most shifters.

A shifter without its inner animal was worthless and unable to defend itself.

I ruffled through the contents of my bag and decided to sacrifice one of my old shirts. With a few pulls, I tore it to shreds to turn it into make-shift bandages before wrapping one gently over my wounded face.

It was annoying and would surely stick into the wound and cause a hell of pain later on, but I'd rather not risk having any flies or other bugs come and inspect the wound.

Suddenly tired, I sagged against the nearest tree, feeling the fever wreak havoc on my body. I knew I had to keep moving but... Taking a last sip of water and soaking my pants to cool down, I forced myself to start the gruesome trek.

Forcing one foot in front of the other. Excruciating pain webbing across my stomach, pulling my muscles taunt and tensing up my stomach to the point I felt I might puke. Still, I couldn't stop, couldn't stay here.

Each step was more draining than the other, my eyes occasionally wavering as sweat beaded all over my body. The time I spent walking was slowly being changed to times where I had to fall in the shade, standing on shivering legs and dry heaving in some bushes.

A shiver rolled up my body, a pained sound escaping my throat as it pulled at the stitches before I tried my best to focus my hazy vision on the horizon.

Keep walking Lane...just keep walking...

---

"Fuck!"

I gasped for air as I fell against the rock, blood spewing in my mouth as I bit on my cheek to keep my pained screams to myself. Chest heaving with labored pants and struggling to keep my eyes opened, I slowly drooped down to the floor.

The left side of my face was burning, I could feel the obvious swelling as it pulled at the wounds. My luck had to run out sooner or later I guess. Claw-marks of felines infected easily and that's just what the slashes across my jaw did.

The concept of time was lost to me. I had no idea how long I had been staggering around, wandering aimlessly and only guided by my sense of smell, hearing and the blurry vision. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was building up a fever.

I knew that my wounds were slowly getting worse, my healing deteriorating as the fever tired down my body, allowing infections to set in.

And I knew that I was walking right across hostile territory.

The border was pulsing with power, unlike the few smaller spikes I had felt before. I had avoided all borders I came across, sensing imminent hostility if I dared to cross it. This border seemed...different.

Maybe it was the fever talking...Maybe I'm going insane.

The sound of water trickling over rocks made my whole body shiver and I let out a pained cry. The thought of some cool relief made me step forwards without thinking; I didn't even pause to realize the sudden surge of energy I felt pouring through my body was in fact caused by crossed the invisible border lines.

My eyes closed on their own, the left one shivering uncontrollably from the pain it caused. Inhaling deeply, I could smell several things rushing my senses at once.

The pine trees close to the edge of a calm lake, probably rich with lovely fat fish. I could hear them stirring deep down the center of the lake, could hear an eagle squawking in the trees above, its claws digging in the bark.

Following my nose, I staggered on. Nauseating waves of pain flooded my body as I staggered from tree to tree, swaying as I set my eye on the shimmering surface of the water.

I tripped over my own feet, rolling down the small hill before I simply laid there. Too exhausted to move as the fever was slowly winning, succeeding to drain me from energy. Even if I wanted to move, my limbs were trembling beyond my control as the pain skyrocketed.

So...this is how I'll die...

Eyes barely opening, I caught a glimpse of the mossy soil underneath me and the sun peeking through the pines up above, casting an olive light on the soil down below. A smile slipped on my parted lips as I panted in pain, struggling to remain aware of my surroundings.

If I sleep....I'll die....must.........stay......

Still, even with my struggle, I could feel myself slipping. My body relaxed on the forest floor as the fever took a hold of it. I didn't even react to the distant sound of footsteps approaching, their deep thuds trembling through the floor.

By the time they reached me, kneeling down over my crumbled form to check for a pulse, I was already out cold. My consciousness fluttered once, due to being picked up. For a split second I was wide awake as the jarring motion tore through my body, agonizing pain burned through my veins, up to my throat in a tortured screech.

The man that held me cursed and just like that, I was a ragdoll, a dead weight in his arms as I finally succumbed to the pain. All I could hope for was that this stranger would take some mercy on me and finish me off.

If I had to die, I'd rather have a swift, clean death than to struggle and fight for survival, only to fail once more.