I will die today. I wake up with sentence pounding in my mind like a migraine, traced on my tongue like a tattoo. I jump to my feet and bang my head on the ceiling of my tent, which collapses around me like my life is about to. I crawl out of the thing in a panic, flailing wildly for my sword. There. The cool metal makes contact with my hand, and I spring up, still entangled in army green fabric. Finally, I see the light of a harsh morning, and break away, spinning around, trying to pinpoint my attacker. And I stop. And I laugh. I laugh and laugh until salty tears make clean tracks down my dusty cheeks, I am doubled over, holding my stomach, filling the air with wolf cries. I got into my own head. I can’t do that again if I want to live to see tomorrow’s sun. Today’s is fluorescently garish, beating down on my tangled head. Time to get moving, or you’re going to be gone sooner rather than later. I shake myself, trying to loosen the thought from my mind. I don’t know what came over me, but I am not going to die today.
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