Terezi clings to Redglare's hand as they make their labored dash for safety, which really only makes her hand tremble harder. Her knuckles are a pale ash grey, the same hue as her face. She presses the heel of her free hand hard against her tightly locked lips, trying to force back any cries of pain. With Redglare next to her, all of her previous insecurities come rushing back, mainly the ones about appearing weak. Logically, it's ridiculously laughable and unimportant; but it helps her focus. It helps her keep moving. Even when the agony causes her to stumble, to trip and fall, she scrambles back to her feet. She keeps going.

After only a few minutes, it's clear that she's reached her limit. She staggers and falls to her hands and knees, but makes no effort to get up this time. Her fingers dig into the ground as she braces against the pain, the stifled noise in the back of her throat becoming a strangled cry of agony.

She's going to die. She is fully aware of this, that she can't take much more. It would be better if her ancestor left her here, but she can't form the words to tell her that. The only thing that manages to pass her lips is a choked sob, an acknoledgment of her fate.