I walked to the window while Jase finished dressing. It was a luxury neither of us was eager to leave behind. We had soaked miles of travel from our skin last night and again this morning. Our lodgings had afforded us a hot spring. The tattooed wing on his chest glistened in a soft fog. He pulled on his shirt, his skin still steaming against the brisk air. We had made good time, but between the trip to Marabella and now our trek back, we’d been gone from Tor’s Watch for over two months. I remembered her telling me about her dream. But the wound wept yellow, and my brow was feverish, the filth of the cell seeping in. Shouldn’t you do something? Was it a laugh I heard as the beam faded away? Or was it a quarterlord taunting me? I wasn’t dead yet, so I knew that the knife plunged into my belly had at least missed anything vital. What have we here? It pointed at my belly now, my shirt stiff with dried blood.
The narrow beam came only after long spells of darkness, maybe once a day? I wasn’t sure, and even then it didn’t stay for long, sneaking in like a curious onlooker. How long had I been here? Five days? A month? Eleven years? I called out to my mother and then I remembered. It should have been easy, but the warmth eluded me. A dusty beam of light wormed its way through the stone, and I leaned in, hoping to steal some warmth.
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