The extra forty-eight hours in the Grove had been a gift from the earth itself. The ancient, vibrating silence of the silver-barked trees had acted like a battery charger for Leela’s depleted core. By the morning of their departure, the terrifying, translucent pallor of the coma had vanished. A healthy, rosy flush had returned to her cheeks, and the Elemental Stone in her chest was no longer a frantic, pulsing bird, but a steady, rhythmic star.
She was back. But she was not yet whole. Her spirit was willing, but her muscles were still trembling from the weeks of atrophy.
When it was time to load up the mountain climber, Leela swung her legs over the side of the hammock, bracing her hands on the mossy rim to push herself up.
"I can walk, Fenn," she said, her voice raspy but laced with he
