As it turned out, the suva had given them more than just the strength to last another day. They were apparently the only survivors of that mage camp raid; the other captured creatures were already too far gone by the time they were rescued. They had 'Sahshens stubborn constitution to thank for that, actually.      However, though they had been healed, there was still a long road ahead of them. Blaze finally relented and ate a little fish while Kei was asleep, and the sira managed to find him some milk, which was almost as good. Still, it was by no means enough, and only a few days after their rescue, they fell into a fevered sleep.      None of them really remembered their dreams, though later their siran caretakers would tell them that they would occasionally cry or snarl in their sleep, and once they leapt from their sickbed, wild-eyed and panicked, before collapsing to the ground. That had worried the sira, and they moved them into their own room, in case something in what the mages had done to them had caused them to go mad. They really didn't want to traumatize the other creatures they cared for any further.      Alone again, 'Sahshen became the dominant presence, even though they were still unconscious, and the two gentler species had to rouse themselves often to stifle his dreams of violence.      One morning, perhaps a week later, Blaze opened his eyes and looked around their room groggily. It was empty now, but he could feel the warmth on the floor next to him where someone had sat for a long while. Kei, who's memory for scents was stronger than either of the others, said it was one of the sira who had rescued them, but she'd had the scent of a strange forest on her. Blaze thought he tasted salt on the air, too, and 'Sahshen caught something that reminded him of his desert. Strange developments.      Next to the warm spot sat a small basket of only slightly wilted flowers, along with a shiny... thing. He wasn't ready to be confused this soon after waking up, so he moved on. Behind them all was a rather large parcel with siran writing on it. Out of the three of them, only Blaze had any idea of the language at all, so he read what he could. It seemed to be a name...      "Djitimra A'Niarya?" he voiced curiously. His voice was harsh and raspy, so he tried again. "Djitimra A'Niarya... First Seed of Life? Is that right?" there was no answer, of course, save his own voice speaking for a grumpy Kei, unused to waking this early in the morning.      "I don't know and I don't care, unless it means 'These flowers are for you, please eat up.' They do look tasty..." Their eyes turned from Blazes contemplation of the box to the flowers.      Blaze rolled his eyes and 'Sahshen snorted derisively.      "Well they do." Kei said.      About then, the door to their room opened, and for a moment, all three had a flashback of their time in the mage camp and flinched away from the door, curling up and shutting their eyes tightly. However, the open door let in a waft of fresh air and the scent of the other tampered creatures in the hospital, along with their siran caretaker, who was troubled at their reaction and rushed to reassure them.      "It's alright, Timra, it's only me... there now, it's alright."      When she reached out to stroke their shoulder, they flinched and cried out softly, whimpering "Patchwork is fine, patchwork isn't hungry,"      The sira retracted her paw and sat, still cooing softly. It was the first time they'd been awake since their rescue, so it was also the first time she'd seen them react like that. And no matter how much they insisted, she knew they were hungry.      Blaze and Kei shivered on the floor mat until 'Sahshen gave them a mental smack. They blinked, loosed from their waking terror, and looked at the sira for the first time. 'Sahshen hissed, but Kei cut it off halfway.      "Stop it, you ungrateful wretch," he said angrily, then Blaze took over and Kei moved the berating to a mental level.      "Who or what is Djitimra?" He glanced at the box curiously, and the sira smiled at him.      She was only a little concerned with his apparent mood swings; they would probably clear up as his physical and mental balance returned. "You are, dear," she said, then explained, "Angel, the suva that helped rescue you, thought you must bee what the very first ancestor must have looked like. You know, before there were separate species."      Blaze looked at the box again, and Kei broke off his mental tirade against 'Sahshen to say "There was no ancestor before there were species." Blaze disagreed "No, I've heard some stories... you know how close runners and NC and my kind are, in appearance if nothing else. I heard once that we all came from the same place, a long time ago."      Sahshen shrugged and hissed his reply "What doess it matter? The Ssssssuva are a weak, disssgraccceful ssssspeciess anyway. Let it call ussss what it likessss. It will be dead sssssoon." He seemed smug at that, though the sira didn't understand why. Blaze and Kei knew, however, that the saurokk had a memory that reached back to the first inclination of his kind, so that yes, the lives of even the practically immortal suva seemed short.      The sira was a little more concerned, and watched this conversation play out. Maybe it wasn't just a problem of mood swings... "That's what everyone is calling you now," she said with a carefully neutral shrug as she opened the package for them, "That or Timra."      Blaze watched her curiously, then joked, mostly just to ease the dark mood hovering about the room. "Just like our birthday, eh?"      She smiled and nodded. It didn't occur to ask why he'd said 'our.' "It's a gift that we hope will help you get well again." She said.      Kei halted his mental tirade again and watched. 'Sahshen sulked, but he too wanted to know what was in the box.      For all it's size, the contents of the box were neither large nor impressive. "That's it?" Kei asked, unconvinced.      The sira held out a pouch of herbs that reminded Blaze of the mint herbs around his home. "It's a special mixture of herbs that should allow you to digest your vegetarian diet more successfully." She said, hope shining in her eyes. 'Sahshen eyed it warily, but Blaze and Kei were all for it. Kei had been eyeing the flowers for a while anyway.      As it turned out, the stuff actually worked, and was easy enough to come by in the wild, if they knew what to look for, so the sira brought them fresh herbs every day, which they ate along with their meals. Slowly but surely, they regained strength. Weeks passed, then months. It was half a year since their tampering before they were back to normal strength, though they still shied away from contact outside of their particular siran caretaker. She would accompany them on walks through the forest, talking with them about some goings on of the hospital, and sometimes other raids on other mage camps.      "Patchwork wonders if his camp is still there," Blaze wondered aloud for all of his presences on one such occasion, his soft voice wavering faintly.      The sira looked at him, then answered "No, Timra. That camp was destroyed when we rescued you. We couldn't allow it to continue, since their objective seemed to have been related to you." She didn't mention that one other 'patchwork' creature had been rescued from there only a year before, only this one had been... living impaired, so to speak. It was basically a reanimated zombie k'd that the mages had sewn together and given a life of sorts. They had seen it safely out of the realm and into a caring home. There were also other unsuccessful experiments buried in the earth around the camp. She didn't tell him about those, either.      "Good," he said, nodding, and all of his mental presences agreed. Though 'Sahshen still wished he could've torn those mages apart with his bare talons. Oh well.      A month or so later, Timra decided to leave the hospital. He'd tried helping out with caring for the terminally tampered, but it turned out to be more of a hurt than a help. The other creatures saw him as a reminder of what had been done to them and were pained whenever he came around, which only served to make him even more self-conscious and insecure. He hated how he looked now, and how his appearance made others turn away in disgust, or worse, watch him pityingly.      So it was that on one bright spring morning, Timra left the hospital, seen off by his only friend.      "Don't forget the herbs, and stay out of the rain," the sira said in a very motherly sort of way, and Timra smiled shyly.      "Don't worry, Patchwork can take care of himself." He never had gotten out of the habit of speaking in the third person, or using the nickname the mages had given him.      With that farewell and a parting hug, Timra set off on his own. He knew he could never return to any of his homes. He wouldn't want them to see him like this anyway. So he was alone, probably for the rest of his life.      And he was sad.