The door creaked open while I lay numb on the bed.
“Sage?” called a familiar voice. A young woman poked her head in. Sunlight outlined the golden head, hair woven into a braid crowning her head.
“Hazel.” I sat up. My throat hurt from weeping. “Is that you?”
“Sage.” She pushed open the door. I threw up my arm to ward off the light flooding in. In the next moment, my friend embraced me.
“Oh, Sage, I am so glad you are here.”
“Hazel,” I murmured, as she squeezed me. “I thought you were dead.”
She drew back, cheeks flushed, hair wild, a few more freckles on her pretty, tanned face. “Almost. But a Berserker rescued me from the Corpse King’s tomb. I hear your escape was just as frightening.”
I drew back, aching for news of Rolf and Thorbjorn. “What did you hear?”
“Your mates told the Alp
