The chaotic medical tent is a whirlwind of sound and motion around me. Medics rush back and forth, barking orders and tending to the injured who lie groaning on cots. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood mingling with the sharp antiseptic smell.
My own body feels like lead, weighed down by exhaustion and pain from my wounds. But Greg's face hovering over me, creased with worry yet lit up with relief at seeing me conscious again, is enough to momentarily blot out the chaos.
"Rosetta, thank the stars you're awake," Greg's voice is raspy but fervent. His warm hand engulfs mine, his calloused fingers intertwining with my own. "I was so afraid..."
His sentence trails off, but his eyes convey the depths of fear he must have felt thinking he could lose me. I give his hand a reass
