I'm still undone, not quite young
Eventually, Sam had had to leave the embrace of his Mother; she could not cure him and so he truly was lost in the world, on his own to tackle the effects of whatever had gripped control of his body. He took aimless steps from the woodland, his path swerving and stopping whenever the nausea became too much and his fogged mind couldn't remember where he was trying to go (though really, he'd never had much of an idea).
He recognised the streets he was passing in a distant way, but couldn't quite remember their names; each corner he thought was the one before he got home (only...this wasn't home any more, was it?) then turned and found there was another corner to go. This cycle became more and more frustrating, until eventually he was crying without really knowing why, marching determinedly (wobbling) down the streets as if they were purposefully hiding something from him.
He recognised the streets he was passing in a distant way, but couldn't quite remember their names; each corner he thought was the one before he got home (only...this wasn't home any more, was it?) then turned and found there was another corner to go. This cycle became more and more frustrating, until eventually he was crying without really knowing why, marching determinedly (wobbling) down the streets as if they were purposefully hiding something from him.
Cross my heart, now I hope to die
SAM
