Whatever I was before, any healing I might have been capable of is non-existant now. The Prophet be damned--I do not fit your stories, Tsun! A fragment. A muttered spell I know is somehow a gift, but even this is paltry. Not enough! How can they all look to me for the girl's health? You have your own healers; look to them for the answers I do not have!

...A cripple she'll remain. I cannot. I am not...

Call a Clefthoof what it is, a Clefthoof. Ugly, stupid, useless save to eat. Nothing holy about it at all. Perfect example of what I am.

...What is a Clefthoof? Who is the Prophet? Why do I know these things? There is nothing here that...

Memories...

No. I do not want them. I do not want to know why I was condemned to die!