Miscreants Are We, Jailed for Our Crimes

Pain throbbed somewhere, a place that was probably his head, but joined by lesser points elsewhere. As a groan filtered against closed-in walls, bands of fire on his throat made themselves more noticeable, spiking to the pulse of his head. Eyelids flickered, the blackness peeling away to another layer of dark, fuzzy and out of focus. It smelled earthy. It smelled like misery and sickness. Blood. Nothing about it made sense. An odd sense of floating - of nothingness - lingered in the back of his mind, an emptiness that felt wrong, a vague sense of body beyond the aches.

I've killed her.

His head reeled as some part of him shifted, sound echoing back against empty space where his brain had probably been. It rasped in his ears - no sense. It didn't make any sense. Killed....

Bat... Bat, what have I done?

A feeling of pressure in his head. It lolled, his mouth parting slightly, a wheezing, choked-off moan drifting up into the air. The world spun, like an eddy in the river, and he watched the surface above spin and waver. It looked like dirt, roots poking through. Like the medicine den. He was in the medicine den, Starlord had died. Something like fire started to flicker in his chest, flaring panic, burning despair. That wasn't right. Starlord was...

Who was Starlord?

Memories jumbled in fuzzy fits, mixing with the whirling drift of the ceiling. If he blinked, the river and a silver molly's kind blue eyes smiling at him disappeared, her mouth open to call his name fading. He could hear the rippling, lulling him to sleep. Green. Something tore at his heart. Green eyes in a black-furred face - sparkling.

"Strom."

His breath caught in his throat, paws constricting against the ground, pain as his claws pricked the dirt underneath them. It wouldn't stop whirling. Thoughts fled like water passing over his fur, scattering and twinkling in glittering shards, spun to the wind - disappearing without trace. He chased after, desperately trying to catch them - glimmering images of curly black fur and a mischievous smile, a sharp intelligence dancing in the green depths of her eyes, but she slipped away. She slipped away like the blue-eyed molly who's ghostly tongue rasped his forehead, the fluffy ginger pelts and laughs. Bat! Batbite! It whipped through his aching head, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a feeling of moisture dripping out with the motion as it roiled, uneven breaths gasping in his ears to the shards on his neck.

"Where...? Please...."

I need to know....