GINGER
As I woke, I fought against a dull, aching exhaustion pressing down on me like dead weight. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy. My mouth was dry, my head pounding. Every muscle in my body throbbed with soreness, as if I’d run a marathon the day before.
This has to be the worst hangover of my life.
Slowly, the fog in my mind began to clear. I inhaled the scent of crisp air and wet earth. Was I outdoors? I groaned, trying to roll over. A sharp clink echoed through the silence.
My eyes snapped open.
Coldness nipped at my skin—no, at my fur. My stomach dropped as my sluggish brain scrambled to make sense of it.
The room—was it even a room?—was cloaked in darkness, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of my red night vision. The outlines of my surroundings took shape: col
