When I woke up, something felt wrong.
My fingers clutched at the fabric beneath me, coarse linen, but clean and dry.
It wasn't the cold, unforgiving stone of a dungeon floor or the filth of the pigsty.
For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, terrified that if I opened them, the vision would shatter like glass, returning me to the nightmare of the Eram fields.
I was on an actual bed. It was smooth and soft and even though I could not smell it, I just knew it smelled newly washed and fresh.
"This is not a Inn where you can laze all day, child." Came a grumpy voice.
I started, my eyes snapping open as I scrambled to sit up.
The movement sent a flare of agony through my back, a sharp reminder of the leather whip's kiss.
I gasped, clutching the linens, and looked up into a face that looked like ancient parchment paper left too long in the sun.
The old woman standing over me didn't look at me with the murderous rage I had come to expect from the Stormfang pack.
