Sparrow punched his fist straight through a boulder, sending shards of slate across the clearing. Pain rippled through his arm. He grabbed the pain, used it as a lasso to tighten around his neck. It felt good. He hit another boulder and a second piece of his fist shattered off with the impact.

'I should go back there,' he said to himself, 'I should show them what I'm really made of, what I really think about them going behind my back like that.'

A shark-like piece of rock was staring at him the wrong way. Sparrow picked it up and squeezed until water dripped from the rock down his arm.

He hurled the wilted rock in the direction of a cedar tree and felt a momentary rush run through his body, as the tree crashed to the ground next to him.

'Oh yeah? Think you're all that?'

Fire swirled between Sparrow's hands. He balled it into a ring and sent the ring swirling around the newly fallen tree, singeing leaves, peeling the bark from the very trunk. He used his fist to smash into the trunk five times, shattering it into pieces and pouring more flame on each of those pieces, reducing them to nothing but ash.

And that's when he smelt it. Not the burning decay of the tree he'd just burnt but that slight aura of fear from the living trees around him. They felt what he was doing and they were afraid and that's when when Sparrow realized what he had done - he'd murdered a tree.

He'd sworn to the forest god he'd be a protector and yet here he was, face covered in ash, hands blackened, fire billowing from his shoulders.

'No.' Sparrow shook his head. 'This has to stop.' He clenched and then unclenched his fists.

I need some new fixation to get my mind off her. He turned away from the small patch of forest he'd been destroying and flew until he reached a trail.

'No more flying.' he said to himself, 'At least not for a while.'

He set his feet on the ground and set about a blistering pace, when he drank water from streams he'd dip his hand down but keep moving, never letting up his relentless pace. Everything started to hurt from the constant jolting. His eyes burnt, his lips cracked, but even after all that still she lingered in his mind.

He reached a lake. It was night and the light of the stars danced across the surface.

Sparrow stared left, then right. The water carried on forever, like a god had sliced the world in half.

Weeks of walking meant it had been a very long time since Sparrow had seen another person and the loneliness circled in his stomach.

He waded out into the water without feeling the cold, and his gentle splashes were the only sound that carried out into the night.

Eventually the water reached his chin. He took a breath of air and then bent and picked up a rock from the bottom. The water washed over his head.

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He activated stoneskin, and felt his feet settle on the bottom of the lake.

Sparrow kept walking, further and further from the shore. His vision started to blur, the light of the stars grew dull and his strength started to leave him.

When he was far underwater and his lungs were starting to scream at him he sat back, gazing up at the sky as his remaining air bubbled from his nose.

Why should I go back? He thought. Why should I go back to that world of pain? It’s not just her. It’s everyone. Everyone dies. Everyone leaves you. Everyone disappoints you. Everything hurts. Ultimately you’re alone.

The bubbles were beautiful as they danced towards the surface, they spun and twisted and bounced into eachother.

Existing hurts.

Above him a star fell from the sky. It a was single pinprick of bright yellow light. It danced between his bubbles, then drifted down beside Sparrow.

Sparrow held out his hand and the star fell into it.

Even in his weakened state Sparrow could still see that no… this was not a star. It was a tiny creature. It had wings like a butterfly, and it flew in slow, graceful arcs around his hand.

Another glowing butterfly fell towards him and another.

The water was a sea of colour, everywhere he looked was shining beauty, and with the last of his breath, he laughed.

He laughed and he cried and he shook off stoneskin and dropped his rock and pushed his weakened legs off the bottom of the lake.

Sparrow peered up at the almost dark stars, they were so far away and he was starting to sink again. He looked at the glowing butterflies and he decided.

I want to see tomorrow.

And he kicked out. His legs were made of rubber. His hands were like seaweed. But he shook them and he flapped them and he thrashed around all he could.

The weight of the water was oppressive. It pulled him back. He was swallowing water and when he tried to cough it out more poured in. He gagged, the butterflies had disappeared, everything had disappeared, the world had gone dark.

Sparrow felt his nose grow cold, there was a slight wind brushing against it. He slapped his arms against the surface and broke through.

His lungs ejected the water, and he coughed, again and again, more water came up and Sparrow breathed, he breathed that beautiful sweet air.

Above him, the stars shone bright and below him, the stars of the lake shimmered through their dances and Sparrow’s hair splayed out around him as he floated on his back in the middle of the lake just staring at the sky above him.

There’s so much out there. He thought. There’s so much more to see. So many more people to meet. I wonder how many people are lying back the same as me. Staring up at the sky, and just wondering… am I alone?

****

Before morning broke Sparrow swam for the shore. The cold had reached right into his bones.

After an hour of slipping and sliding and failing, he hoisted himself on the slippery wet mud. He gasped for air as he stared out over the water, no further distance-wise than had been hours ago.

Sparrow noticed his body had stopped shivering, it was too cold. His hands wouldn't spark a flame.

'Alright buddy,' He said, 'We're going to be a little selfish and take a bit of time out for us. We're going to train not just our body but our mind, we've been a little slack at these things lately.'

'We've got everything we need,' Sparrow gazed over the lake, 'There's water.' He patted a spot on the rock-hard ground. 'We've got bedding, and most importantly, we've got our mind.'