Zeltzin would never know, as would Shem. Zeltzin is too pure for it, that much I know, and she would undoubtedly suffer more than any of us, beyond perhaps Moteuh's body itself, a twisted, gnarled thing. Abel's leg. It was like that. Twisted, gnarled, repulsive. Incompatible with life. Yes, Asriel was right. He burned it off, removed it, tore sickness away. It was simply...all-encompassing, that sickness. You could not purge a spine, a ribcage, lungs...not the same way. His way was the only way. Still, it is unsettling to feel it, to feel a strange empty part of yourself open up inside.
In the silence, I feel as if I am not wholly here. My mind drifts, empties itself, and for some time only echoes exist before Asriel's voice reminds me to be here. My eyes focus in on him once more and I nod immediately, my mind well and truly decided on the matter.
She is not...stiff. Yet. When I grip her scruff, I finally feel how light she is; she was born small, Zeltzin's blood strong within her, but as I begin to move with her, I realize just how small she is...was. She must be even smaller than she was born to be, her twisted body unable to unfurl as it should have; awkward, clumsy, and yet some creature found it amusing enough to keep her in such a state. It is difficult not to think of it, and I do my best to retain composure as we begin our journey towards the surface.
It takes some time and I feel my lungs weary with effort as I finally find a path towards the river that flows to the south. The rocks are difficult to navigate and I am suspicious of any others nearby; at least for now, we seem to still be alone. By the time we find the river, I can feel my blood hot with exertion as I finally lay her down on the banks. I take a moment to catch my breath, eyes on her as she seems to be...resting.