Chapter twenty
TessaTo the warrior, trust and rest are the same word.
Powwaw Speak: Shamanic Wisdom of the Irrakish, Theodore Black, PhD
Tessa listened to the drone of machines for a long time. A smell, sharp and antiseptic, helped to place her. People came and went, touching her with cool, efficient hands. Other people spoke quietly — asked questions, gave answers. Eventually the words resolved themselves into some sort of order. A voice — Jane’s — was blessedly familiar. Another, deep and strangely accented, was not.
“She’ll be all right?”
“Yes, just a nasty bump on the head, I believe. But you should get back into bed, love.”
Was that Jane saying love? Tessa thought she must have misunderstood. She opened one eye a tiny crack, just in time to see Jakob brush Jane’s hair away from
