She could smell the lush green earth, damp and dewy. Hear the movement of trees surrounding her, the quiet chatter of distant birds and the constant burr of insects. Her stomach was still tight with hunger, though the pain of it had faded to a dull ache that left her feeling nauseous. Sastra shifted, moving her head and regretted it instantly. The wave of sickness washed over her. She curled up, hands over her head to protect it. She inhaled through her nose, exhaled slowly through her lips and waited for the sensation to fade. She couldn’t hear the sound of rushing water. Instead, it had been replaced by the quiet murmur of voices and flap of canvas. She opened her eyes, staring at the hands she’d raised to her face. Her arms were bound at the wrist. Sastra lifted her head, just enough to
