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Home is the place where one wants to be, but when it starts to seem like an impossible dream, despair starts to overwhelm one.

That was in the case of Blade who found herself in a place unknown to her. It was quite cold, and she knew that she did not like being cold. Cold meant getting sick, and getting sick meant going to an infirmary and she did not like infirmaries. Infirmaries meant getting a shot, laying in bed and staying there until it was deemed fit for her to leave.

Her wings wrapped around her body. She would just have to hunt for shelter, only then she could get some warmth without a lot of effort on her part.

It is a curious thing when one realizes that they are helpless to stop what happens in some situations.

I opened my eyes one morning only to discover myself behind what appeared to be a window. My hands had quickly moved to trying to phase through the material, but something was wrong. It was hard, if not impossible, to do so.

My hands started to pound at the glass. I wanted out. I hate small spaces. I wanted to be out of that small space. But they weren't letting me out.

I lifted my head and saw that there was a sort of smoke filling what I could only call a container holding me. My movements became even more frantic. I had tried shouting, pleading, but I was unheard.

I was starting to fall asleep...

No, I didn't want to sleep.

Not sleep...

...sleep...