"Well, let's take a small break from the story, let you all ask some questions," I spoke across the fire to my audience. I didn't phrase my statement as a question. I would be taking a break regardless of if they asked anything or not. This story is one I've told before, but this is the first time I've had to keep track of my own body while doing so. My throat had regenerated earlier, and they'd probably noticed the difference as it happened. But, other parts of me weren't as seamless as that of my voice. The flesh around my arms had almost grown back inverted, and I'd had to pause for an instant to rectify that. This break was as much for me to investigate my own body as it was for them to think about the story.

"Why tell us this story like this? What do you have to gain from splitting it up like this?"A male voice from across the fire asked, still as irritable as always. I like the question. It was a good one with a nuanced answer. But, I liked it because it was one I didn't have to think about to answer.

"I could tell it to you like one story, one single continuous thing. But I've tried that before. And, every time I've told it like that, I've been unable to finish." I kept speaking while verifying that my feet wouldn't end up webbed or with only one large toe. "A few got bored with me; others tried to kill me, and some just got so disgusted with the contents they walked away. So, I tell it like this, so that you have to piece together how each story connects to the rest." My feet appeared fine for now, but I'd have to recheck them later. I didn't say anything more to the question, and I had no plans to answer follow-up questions to that one. So I continued to look over myself and wait for another question.

"Will you tell us where each of these parts falls on the timeline?" A female voice asked. This question brought a realization for me. Nothing to do with the answer; it was again something I knew. No, what I realized is that my ears sounded off. I couldn't tell who was speaking from across the fire, their voices distinctly different from my memory.

"Now, why would I do that?" I asked a rhetorical question in response, hopefully conveying a form of humor in my tone. I'd have to investigate my ears more thoroughly later. I couldn't have my hearing going out while I was supposed to be listening to them.

"How long was Hal in that tunnel?" A different but still unrecognizable female voice asked, this one sounding a little upset.

"I can't give an accurate number. Something happened in that tunnel, something I don't understand to this day. The distance Hal covered was within what he could walk in a few weeks. But Hal was in that tunnel a lot longer." I watched the flames in front of me, they looked fine, so hopefully, my eyes are fine as well. "Hal was in that tunnel for two and a half years. I know that The Old Man didn't prepare enough supplies for such a long journey, and I know that the tunnel wasn't nearly long enough for that to be the case. But, the reality is that Hal went into the tunnel at ten years of age and came out the other end at twelve years of age." The flames danced in front of me, and a part of my mind whispered that I should stick my hand into the fire. But as soon as the urge appeared, a feeling of caution wrapped around it to smother it. "It's a puzzle I haven't answered to this day." I didn't tell them I had a theory. It wouldn't be worth the explanation it would require.

"Different part of the story." One of the men spoke up. "What happened to that girl, Lillian?" This one was an unfortunate question with an answer that fits it too perfectly.

"She died." I tried to give as simple an answer as I could, but I expected a follow-up question that would force the issue.

"How?" The same voice asked.

"Hah," I sighed. I have no desire to answer this question, but hiding information here would bring more issues later. So I constructed the most informative answer I could. "Lillian Visroyal. She died at the hands of a high priest in the final battle of the war she started." I gave up the information they wanted while hiding why she'd started that war. To my relief, no one asked about why she started that war or why a high priest was on the front lines. Maybe they knew, or perhaps they just didn't care. Either way, I could not see their faces to make a guess. The flames cast odd shadows and did not shine a light on anyone's face. No one made a move to get closer, and no one would lean into the fire to show their face, all of us with our own reasons as to why. So, with no idea what they thought about my answer, I sat and waited for another question. All the while checking my body for discrepancies.

"Why tell us any of this?" A third female voice asked.

"Simple, You asked a question at the beginning, and for the answer to make any sense, you'll need context," I replied instantly.

"How is any of this context to what we asked before?' The second female voice asked with shock and annoyance in her voice. At least, I think that's what I heard; my ears still sounded off.

"You wanted to know what happened earlier, and why" I reminded them. "I could tell you what, but the why is what requires context. So I've chosen to be a pain and give that context before answering the actual question." I confessed that a good part of this was for myself and not them. But, the truth is that this would help them understand. "Anyone else got a question?" I asked them.

No one responded, and I took that as an affirmation to continue my story.

"Alright, let's resume, shall we. Where was I? Ahh, that's right." I remembered what was next and resumed telling the story.