ATLAS' POV
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My fingers drum against the armrest, my foot tapping with a steady rhythm against the floor. Madeline is lying on the bed, body limp, her hair sprawled around her face. I tried to get the dark locks to just be neat, but it didn't want to curve in one direction, but many. I gave up on it and just covered her with a blanket to make her comfortable. She's been knocked out for almost three hours now, and I'm starting to wonder if I should get a healer to have a look at her. If she doesn't wake up soon, I fear that she won't wake up at all.
It feels like hours when I notice her fingers twitch. It was a faint jerk of her pinky finger, and I stare until it happens again. I inhale a sharp breath that I slowly exhale with relief. If she's moving, then she's alright.
A few minutes
