39th of Summer, 515 AV
Rathan sat in one of the many beds inside the Galia Medical Center. Rathan looked at his, now five, hands, he flexed them, turned them. It was odd, seeing only five hands instead of six. He felt alien to his own body, seeing out of one hand, only looking at five instead of six... He hated himself for letting himself do this, the amount of stupidity with in those moments... If he wasn't drunk he wouldn't be in this place, he'd still be in his tent. But of course, he chose to get that drunk, even though his thought process wasn't right, he chose to fight that Akalak. Which caused him his arm and his eye.
A tear ran down Rathan's cheek as he thought about himself and the past, he ran his hands through his hair as he began to think poorly of himself. He slammed his hand against his lap and laid back, as more of the dark thoughts crossed through his mind. He began to wonder if he could actually survive in this world, I mean if he can't fight one person what is stopping him from being killed by others? What is stopping him from being killed by something even more simple? He gave a large heavy sigh, and just began to run through what he could of done to stop his arm from being chopped off. He slapped him self, stopping the dark thoughts. He began to look over his body again.