Gentle as the spell was, it was fire in Martin's blood, and feeling his body fail to react to suit was infuriating. For as slow as his legs lumbered, he felt his heart was ready to explode out of his chest and beat him the rest of the way. Way where? He had no semblance of direction anymore. Shapes and horrible feelings and the absence of smell he knew he ought to have...And fire. Fire.

Staggering, screaming and moaning in fear and frustration, Martin almost doesn't see the woman in his way before he'd practically barreled into her. Or...hadn't that happened already? He couldn't think. The shape was something else. He was already safe?

No.

No, there was more in the way. The sounds tapered to loud wheezing, feeling the screaming fatigue in his limbs and the buzzing in his head. He needed to stop, but doing that was going to get him killed. No matter how much he deserved it (he knew), he was still afraid (all the more reason, really).

He stared dumbly at the new walls, eyes darting faster than his body could turn and move. No, no, no!