Loren woke as gray began creeping over Anoth. The headache had receded and was only a dull throb. He slowly opened his eyes and checked the sparse room. A young, grey clad Brother with a black sash sat in the lone chair, his arms folded across his thin chest, his thin brown hair, combed carefully over one side failed to hide the knobby skull, and his thin, small lips compressed tightly in disapproval. He was, thought Loren the embodiment of the woefully inadequate food served at the Academy. Loren would have liked more of the tea that brought slumber and relief, but the old signal of danger was setting his teeth on edge.
He had to leave here and see his son, David. His family was in danger and he wasn"t sure how long he"d been out. His head was still hurting, but it was bearable. Somehow
