"Everyone, wake up!" Kraft caught up with Martin and shouted at the people around the bonfire, some abnormally excited, others despondent. He went from one to the next, hauling up those with their heads bowed and knees hugged to their chests.
It was hard to tell whether this was a natural emotional response, a change brought on by some outside influence, or a combination of both. When roused, they were all somewhat dazed, their attention scattered.
In an emergency, anything went. Kraft made no apologies for using his family's battlefield first-aid technique: the traditional and effective physical stimulation of the facial nerves. A couple of quick slaps swiftly brought the dazed back to their senses. Whether they'd been overwhelmed by joy or sorrow, or curled up hugging their knees, two slaps brought them back to reality.
He grabbed the Squire he'd just pulled to his feet and held up a finger, watching the man's eyes for convergence and tracking. "Did you see anything? Bright spots, or double images?"
"I think my vision's a little blurry." The Squire pulled one hand away from his face and rubbed his eyes. It seemed his vision hadn't been affected too badly.
"What about you? And you?" Kraft questioned them one by one. Most gave answers like "blurry vision" or "glare." For now, no one else had seen the mushroom hallucinations that blended so convincingly into their surroundings.
What they did feel, after their emotional outbursts or bouts of despondency, was mental exhaustion. They realized they'd been so immersed in their emotions that they'd run themselves out of energy.
Their feelings had swelled and turned extreme, spilling out into the open until even men tested in battle could no longer control themselves. It wasn't just panic, stoked by an attack from something out of the