“Don’t get up yet!”
The voice was gentle but firm, snapping Zion back just as he tried to move his body—which felt like it had been smashed by a giant boulder.
His eyelids fluttered, slowly opening. Morning light pierced through the cracks of the wooden walls, making his blurred vision throb with pain.
He groaned softly, trying to focus on the figure standing by the doorway.
A woman. With golden-blonde hair neatly braided, carrying a tray filled with toast, roasted chicken, and a glass of fresh milk.
She gasped softly when Zion shifted, attempting to sit up.
“Don’t!” she shouted again. “You’re not strong enough. Lie back down.”
Zion blinked. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, “Who are you?”
The woman closed the door with her shoulder as she stepped inside. Her eyes were filled wi
