Never, in her entire life, did she ever feel enough pain to wish she never woke up. But as she came into awareness, she felt every muscle in her body protest. Her body was on fire and though she had no urge to move, she couldn’t even if she wanted to from how weak she was.
Judging by the sweat and overbearing feeling of chills, she was sick, and if she had to bet her money further, she would guess she got an infection from the dagger that the elf stabbed her with.
When she tried to take a breath, it was labored and shaky, but she heard movement from her side, “Ayla,” It was whispered before his voice raised, “Oh, thank Goddess, Ayla!”
The sound of his voice rang painfully in her ears, but at the same time, hearing someone speak to her was encouraging, “Thorin…”
“I must check her wound,
