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The world warped and turned grey, and nothing was in focus. He stared at his feet and couldn't make out the details. Other kin's faces were a blur. Outcry, the wolf who had accompanied him, howled and tried to nip his legs to get his attention, concerned, but he couldn't make out the wolfs markings or features. Vaguely, far in the back of his mind, he could see Mirewood's concerned expression before he'd traveled on this whole ordeal, her worry that the Obelisks were bad. He could understand now, as he looked around in fear at the monotone landscape, the colorless world around that swallowed everything and everyone.

The scent of death seemed to permeate the air, but he couldn't cough. Then, he felt his feet begin to move. Slowly at first, as he became accustomed to the strange disembodied sensation of looking and seeing but not feeling. He couldn't tell how his legs moved. He couldn't tell how far he'd gone. It was a mistake to come here, he struggled to think, but the thought was a muddied mess of impressions and images; there were no words. He began to run, terrified and uncomfortable, leaving the rest behind. The Ache had not touched him the farther he got from the rest of the herd, or the pack of dogs. Outcry let out a low growling bark, and took off on his heels after him, occasionally howling and trying to get him to turn around and stay with the rest of them. But he couldn't obey the wolf's concerns, and so Outcry only followed him faithfully, afraid, occasionally looking back at the rest of the kin left behind.
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Before long, strangely, Jester could see a tall spire rising in the distance; it looked to be another Obelisk, but he couldn't quite be sure. He ran closer to it, unsure if this was even the right way, but compelled all the same. The closer he got, the darker his vision became at the edge of his eyes. He darted as long and far as he could possibly go, and then felt his knees buckle under him. He felt his head sway, and Outcry continued to yelp and bark at him in a desperate circle, trying his best to rouse the acha back up onto his feet, but to no avail. Jester's head swirled, and he looked up momentarily before feeling himself collapse from need for sleep. He was absolutely exhausted...

The ringing sound echoed in all around, but it didn't seem to form words. It was high, clear as a bell, and gorgeous. He listened, flicking his ears restlessly trying to determine from which direction it was coming from. It fascinated him in its familiarity, yet he couldn't put hoof on where he'd heard it, or what it meant. Nothing his family ever performed on their travels had ever sounded like it, or so he was sure. It was such a sad sounding thing... not like anything he'd ever heard in any shows or places he'd been to. He closed his eyes and leaned into the air, listening.

It echoed all around him, and he couldn't pinpoint where exactly it was. It started at a very high loud note, and slowly swung itself down in a mournful melody he wished he knew the trill to. It was so close, and yet so far, distant and yet so near. He wished he could cry out at the same time and make contact with it, to quell the sadness that seemed to roll off the voice in short bursting waves. But it only crashed against nothing at the back of his head. He concluded he would try to reach it.

Still a little tired and dizzy, he managed to force himself to his feet, though he was surrounded in darkness, and concluded he wouldn't give up. He didn't give up though he wasn't great at puzzles at the Obelisk, and he wouldn't give up now. He refused. He fought the ache in his knees and ankles, and concluded to follow the voice where it was. At its highest peak, he turned his head, flicked his ears, and walked. If it grew distant, he walked back. If it was louder, he knew he was going the right way. He continued trial and error until he was sure he was on the right path. On the downswing of the song, he stopped and listened for it to pick back up so as to not wander by accident.

He was so close now, and yet so far... He could hear it directly beside him, but wasn't quite able to touch it. He waited, and then at the last minute, he heard it seemingly erupt in a sad burst of tone directly beside him, nearly blasting his ear. He wanted to call out, to cry out with it, but couldn't manage to make his mouth move, let alone make sound. But he fought hard, fighting with all his fury against the strange empty blackness to at least see what it was. Eventually, he found himself in a strange sensation of floating... and before long the blackness faded, the sad song echoing in his ears in the darkness behind him, following all the way to the surface.

And then there he was, collapsed under a hot, humid leaf in the swamp, staring up at Outcry's nose. Mirewood stood nearby, watching with a horrified expression and pacing back and forth watching while the wolf tried his best, howling as loud as he could possibly go to rouse the broken acha. Jester blinked and squinted at the bright light, and couldn't believe the song he'd been hearing was the wolf's howl. He growled and nosed him carefully, whining and shifting his feet in concern, but was very clearly glad to see he was alright. His tail wagged once and he lowered his face to Jesters, looking him square in the eyes. "I thought you'd never wake up. Outcry's been hovering over you and howling ever since you appeared here, and nothing we did could rouse you," Mirewood said breathlessly. "I told you, you should take him with you, see, now was I right? You said no, but here you are! What happened?" Jester only blinked and fought to get his mind in line again. When he had, he opened his mouth and explained everything.