"What—-?" I tried to speak.
"Shh-shh-shh. Stay calm," the graveled voice came through my ears this time. "You've been hurt bad, robbed. But you're alive. Been with us a couple of days now. Doc said you had a mild concussion. He'll be happy to know you're awake."
I looked at him. He came closer.
"Yes, I saved you and moved you here." The Brownie kept talking, trying to answer obvious questions and calm me down. "The reason you are tied is because you moved around in your sleep. Your wrist was cut, and we stitched it shut again. But it needs to be still to heel. Here, let me loosen these."
At that he untied the strap holding my arm down, with as much tenderness as he could. And untied the loose sash that was holding me down. Then he moved away with a surprising swiftness I didn't think p
