"You need to go now." He said, looking back at the door, "Arland's going to see you if you stay any longer." He said as pointed forward.

Alana looked in the direction then back at him, reaching for his hand.

"No - this is my home." He shook his head, his eyes darting from his former friend to the sandstone house. "Please, I don't want Arland to do anything to you - I'll find you again, I promise."

Alana looked at him like a small child being told to leave by their parents. She reached for his hand again.

"You need to go." He said as he heard Arland's door open, the hinges creaking in protest against the action. "Please, before he comes. Please Alana."

Alana looked at him sadly then became angry and blew him back before disappearing.

Martin stumbled back, staring at where she was standing and sighed, still gripping the medical box. He looked down at where his legs had been grazed and hastily pulled out the cloth and began dabbing at the wound.

"What happened?" Arland said, who was now standing at the front door. Martin hadn't even noticed he had opened it - hoping he hadn't even glimpsed Alana.

"I tripped over." He muttered, not bothering to look at the man as he put the cloth back into the box and came to his feet.

Alana teleported back into her cave and threw a tantrum, she took her own blood and splattered teh walls with it, ruining her paintings. She then ripped out the stitches he's put in and laid down in bed, exhausted.

Arland moved out of he way, letting Martin trudge into the house and put the medical box in one of the hand-crafted shelves. "I thought you were resting?" He asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I was - but I couldn't get to sleep." He gave a shrug, taking a seat parallel from Martin.

Alana fell asleep, her wound worse than before, drained from lack of blood.

Martin gave a nod, his heart thumping against his chest. What if he saw what had happened - him helping the defective clone? He was about to ask Arland something else, when the wall behind him ruptured and exploded, stones hitting him in the face. His eyes began to flicker, rocks trapping him on his bed. He could see Arland... being lifted up... before teleporting. Then all went black.

Alana was unconscious.

Martin blinked, his conscience finally returning as he pushed one of the bricks away, the sound of crackling in the distance. His heart throbbed and his temples bounced against his skin, making him feel a strange swaying sensation. "Ugh." He moaned as he moved away the last pieces of sandstone, finally noticing the fire which surrounded him - his eyes widening.

With a haste filled curse, he scrambled to his feet and looked around - every possession they had had was stolen or was destroyed by the explosion. He put his hand down his pocket and pulled out his revolver before running through the flames.

Alana woke up a while later and sang sadly to herself.

He reached the threshold of the door and sprung forward as the structure behind him crumbled to the ground, expelling a wave of smoke which went straight into his eyes. Martin rolled over in pain, scratching at the lids of his eyes in a mere attempt to rid of the sand.

Alana walked through the forest, her eyes dull and sad.

Once the sand was out, he looked back at the rubble and flames he used to call home, his shoulders growing sluggish - as if a large weight had been placed on his shoulders. "Arland!?" He yelled out, scrambling back to his feet, "Where are you?"

Alana didn't return to the cave.

Without any answer, he began to move forward, one hand growing tight around the gun. "Arland...?" He voice trailed off as the wind whipped at him, making him wince in pain as his wounds were inflamed with pain.

Alana wandered for the day.

Martin eventually fell to the ground - dehydrated, wounded, bloodied and sleep-deprived. He moaned one last moan before falling unconscious amidst the screaming winds and sand which flung itself through the air.

Alana continued to wander.

Strange visions streamed through his head, making him struggle in his unconscious state. They seemed to settle down after a small while - subsiding in his head which was badly bruised from the explosion.

Alana wandered.

(Can we time lapse about an hour?)