Cormac Crainnchaint (from the old Gaelic “who walks with the trees”)
Hidden deep inside a cave under the Cona pass, Cormac lies in a pool of his own vomit, his body is racked with pain, his face is horribly disfigured by weeping sores, his eyes are glazed and unfocused. The strange fungal growth on his skin seems almost sentient; tiny tendrils grow from his flesh to wave softly in the still cave air.
He has lost the use of his legs and pulls himself into a slumped sitting position. With his back against a low boulder he rocks back and forth in the darkness whimpering “Master, … why have you forsaken me? Why?”
A small flying beetle lands on him to feed. He picks it up and manages, using the last of his energy, to imprint an image of himself entering the cave into its tiny conciousness.
He releases it and sinks back into a fitful sleep of terrifying visions. Flecks of green saliva dribble from his lips as he waits and slips closer to death.
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