But since I was now in control of my Fomorian half, the shifting, rearranging, and healing of my injuries happened at what seemed like a snail’s pace. That resulted in a prolonged process that I could only liken to being put through a wood chipper and glued back together again with iodine and salt. Did I scream? You bet your granny’s fanny, I screamed.
Ouch!!!#$@ Nobody to kiss those booboos either.
