He woke through stillness and cold. That waking was precarious, and came and went, like a lazy tide. But at last, consciousness impressed itself on him. He opened his eyes to the world again.

Eddie breathed deep. The heavy motion almost made him cry out. His hand went instinctively to the bandage around his middle.

“I wouldn’t.” Wurther’s voice was low but firm. “You are still healing.”

“W-Wurther?”

Eddie looked around him almost wildly.

“Easy, easy. We don’t want you fainting again, so soon.”

The doctor hurried forward as Eddie struggled to rise, pressing the young man back on his pallet.

“Where is everyone? Colin—? Mix and Sarah—?”

“Half sick with worry for you,” said Wurther. “They are hunting spices for soup. We thought you would die. What are you? Selfish, spoiled. How dare you think of dying, when there are others who need you?”

Continue reading at Wallie’s Wentletrap