She- she gave up. She was alone, separated, and the war raged on, oblivious to her plight. She thought of her friends, most of them were in her group so they must have… she felt sick at the thought.
She would die free, just as her friends did. She felt a bit of comfort in the thought. She braced for impact and-
She didn't die. Instead, she was thrust into darkness, the same familiar void of senses as when she poofed, and for a moment she calmed. And then, she broke.
Pieces of her, memories, personality, a sense of being, were separated, cracked, and violated. Coherent thought broke down, giving way to confusion and wrongness. She tried to reform, to make sense of it, but it was in vain. A sense of utter loneliness took her, writhing, trapped.
And so it layed there, on the dirt, forgotten.