14
‘Not as bad as some wounds we’ve seen at least.’
Daemi opened her eyes at Petron’s voice and found herself lying on her bed, head propped up on pillows and her injured leg stretched out in front of her, towels and wraps of cloth draped over the bed to protect it from the blood and whatever else Petron was treating her with.
She blinked her vision clear and stared down at the wound, a lone deep circle of dried blood, about the size of her thumb, and watched as Petron poked around its edges with a strangely scented wet cloth. It didn’t hurt, there was no pain at all.
‘Petron?’
‘Ah, our patient awakes!’ Petron smiled up at her briefly before turning back to his work. ‘Try to stay still while I do this, will you?’
Why was there no pain? Surely, she should be able to feel something.
A
