13
I roused to a dense thudding inside my skull, becoming aware within seconds of the dull ache in my right thigh.
At a twitch of my fingers, and a flex of my toes, the rapid pace of my shallow pulse slowed—until I inhaled, and more scents than my brain could distinguish flooded my senses.
Werewolves. Humans—yet ... not human. Other races I couldn’t identify. Cat? Vomit. Urine. Faeces. Mildew. Copper—blood, I guessed. Rotting flesh. Semen? Filth and grease.
I slammed the shutters down on my olfactory system and switched to breathing through my mouth, although the surrounding vileness still forced its way through.
The lift of my lids offered no relief, either. I’d no idea what I expected, but something other than the dark stone above me would have been preferable.
I stared at it.
May
