Scorpius glanced around, surveying the kitchen room for a moment while he tried to recall exactly what had happened. His head felt fuzzy, everything was a blur and it did not feel like he was remembering it correctly. He could remember hiding on the path, waiting for Harlowe and surprising him. Then what?
“I waited for Harlowe in the hall...” he started. It was obvious by his broken words that he was trying to remember. He looked up into his mother's expectant face and wanted to force himself to remember correctly. “And then Harlowe said we should get something to eat... so we came in here and... it was... then I...” There was a pause as he tried to remember how he got so close to the fire.
Suddenly it all came crashing back. The images assaulted Scorpius's mind as he saw the small fire, heard his own voice muffled in his memory as he spoke to Harlowe, and then... “...something hit me, momma! Something hit me on the side and pushed me in!” He did not know it was Harlowe and did not have the presence of mind to suspect that his beloved brother had tried to murder him. “Did it push Harlowe in too? Did it eat him?”
The boy's body wanted to tremble more but he was growing exhausted and weak. The adrenaline was gone now, and his body's own defenses were working best they could to stave the searing pain in the boy's burned face. The salve Naniko applied was already beginning to slow the growing blisters. His face was ragged and bloody, and he would be miserable for weeks to come. But he did not contemplate the future. Scorpius felt so tired, so he laid his head on his paws. One eye was already closed from swelling, the other now half-lidded, heavy with sleep.