The Fox, Red

092 - Personal Sickness

It's two weeks until the broadcast day. The local church has been working hard to get everything organized. Every task I have handed them has been deftly done. They've found not one, but two people who are technically gifted enough and willing to assist in this undertaking. One of them even offered to do it for free. It turns out that he is magically gifted but in a technology sense. He dubbed his skills as "Techno-mancer". He understands machines on a deeper level. I thought he was crazy at first but I got to see him work. He can make any unruly device sing to him.

The other gentleman works with him. I worked out a contract with him and he understands magic even though he has not pursued its use or understanding. He is a down to Earth stag that has been working in the technology industry for 12 years. The church gave me the use of their coffers so he will be paid according to the contract that we negotiated.

The closer this gets, the further down the rabbit hole of my motivations I go. I find myself falling asleep asking myself what the end goal of this is. I know I want magic to flourish. Do I want my own to grow or do I want the subject as a whole to grow? I want more minds on this so they can share ideas. But at the same time, I want to know what they know. I want to learn more. I want to be able to turn theory into practice.

I'm committed to this. I will see this through. They're all working diligently. The church patrons are following orders with speed and precision. Any advice or direction I give is swiftly carried out. I worry I'm working them too hard but I am assured by everyone, including the people we brought in, that they are fine with how things are going.

They can tell me this over and over again but deep down I feel ill. It's taking a physical effect on me. I'm tired. I'm run down. I'm having a hard time focusing. I have to operate in small bursts to keep face around everyone. Behind closed doors, I keep myself alone where I can let this feeling out. It's almost as though I caught a severe cold or sickness. I need rest but I also need to ensure that this is pushed forward.

My ears are warm to the touch as though I have a fever. Maybe I should take a few days to recover and rest. I wonder if I can go pick something up for this. It's a weird sinus pressure that has no mucus. My eyes feel like they're going to pop out of my head like any other sinus headache. I tried some ibuprofen but it didn't even touch it. I could send one of the patrons to grab something. Would that alter their godly image of me? I am just a person underneath this fur. I am mortal. Or I believe that I am. There have been a few times that I should have died.

It's getting near sunset and I cannot stay here any longer. I have to go lay down. I'm glad I reserved my motel room until the broadcast day. The walk back to my room seems longer than normal. I can tell that something is taking an effect on me. I need to get something to help me feel better. I just don't have the strength to go anywhere else. I'm surprised I made it to the bed before I collapsed. It hurts to roll over on my back.

I look up at the ceiling as the sun sets drowning the room in darkness. I'm not hungry. I'm not thirsty. I'm just tired. I feel like I'm going to throw up as the room feels like it's spinning.

I don't know when it changed but my room is no longer the room I was staying in. How did I get to this place? I still feel disorientated as I sit up. The room is cold but I know I didn't turn the AC on. The stone walls are different. The stone floors are a nice touch. My bare paws hit the floor sending a matching cold chill up my body.

The room is circular. I'm surrounded by stone. A breeze blows into the room from an open window to my left. It smells musty like wet dirt. As weird as this thought is, it doesn't smell like where I was before. This smells like it's far away from any major city.

My eyes widen as I take in the view outside. There are sprawling fields of grass with a treeline that is leading into an untouched forest. "Where am I?" I mumble to myself hoping for an answer that doesn't come. "How did I get here?"