Zara
My eyes fluttered open to the faint scent of thyme and bitterroot salve. The ceiling above me was grey stone, morning sun filtered through the high glass windows. I blinked, disoriented, my limbs feeling heavy with sleep.
"She's awake," someone murmured nearby.
I turned my head with a groan. The healer, the one from the other day, stepped into my line of sight. Her eyes were narrowed in weary concern as she dabbed a pungent ointment along my wrist.
"You're lucky you were found in time," she said sharply, not bothering with pleasantries. "Your blood sugar dropped dangerously low. You're dehydrated too. What were you thinking, child?"
I winced at the scolding tone. My voice came out as a hoarse croak. "I… I don't know."
"You students think you're immortal until your
