He marched through the dangling Meskle hide that served as the door to the quarantined room. A section in the upper layer of the Dome Mountain reserved for the old, sickly, diseased and penalized. Coined the 'Deadzone' for obvious reasons, and if necessary, they'd turn you in to the Medical Ward. Over Puck's shoulder, I saw thirteen crescent moons sprawled across the fresh night sky. Thin fingers of vermillion and umber were swiping across the clouds. The black has returned, pouting its lips at me tauntingly. Reminding me that I've been crippled once again. Submitting is difficult for stubborn fools, but I learned my lesson this time around. The wounds didn't even hurt anymore. I gained a new tolerance for pain, expanding my threshold. Either that or my skull was fractured and miraculously numbed my whole body. Still, the mental was scarring was there, questioning myself on deeper levels. Did I do it?