Awareness comes in lurching fits and starts. Time seems to blend together. I hear voices, feel hands. First, Ohna. My angel. Then Enos. Then Avi... or what I imagine is Avi. Has she come to offer my soul safe passage to the other side?

Claws tear into my skin. I can feel myself being dragged, but I am unable to put up a fight. My feet drag behind me. I note with some annoyance that whatever beast has come to claim my remains is not equipped to handle my dwindling weight, for I am dropped several times, face first into the ground. So much for a dignified death.

My protests go unheard or unacknowledged.

This time, when I hear her, she sounds worried. I am submerged, drowning. Now I know that the fever has overtaken me. I am nowhere near water. When I slip into sleep, I think with relief that it is for the last time.

When I wake, I am not in the sand. I am not in some den, a meal for a hungry family. I am... in a bed. There are arms around me. I am cold. I am shivering. I am in pain. I wheeze, and the mattress shifts beneath me.

"You're awake! I mean... you're alive!" The voice is strangely familiar, but I can't put a name to it. My eyes refuse to stay focused.

"Am I?"

The musical laughter fills the room, and I am warm. Ohna. Of course, Ohna. But how has she found me? She props up my body against a wall and forces water into my mouth. I cough and sputter and beg her to stop, but she is persistent. Only when she has deemed my intake enough does she stop. I ask the most important question first.

"Were you in bed with me?"

She blushes a furious shade of pink.

"You were shaking. I was trying to regulate your body temperature."

I laugh even though it throws my body into spasms, and she rushes to my side.

"Everything hurts," I tell her miserably.

"I know."

"What happened?"

"Wart saved you."

"Wart? How?"

"He dragged you here."

"That explains a lot."

She climbs back into the narrow bed and holds me. Even these light touches feel like fire against my sun raw skin. Ohna withdraws when she sees me wince.

"It sounds like you saved me."

Ohna blushes again, and I lean against her. It is the closest I can come to gratitude. My head lolls.

"Whoever splinted your arm did an awful job," she says to break the tension. "Only a foolish man would think armor can heal what is already broken."

"Oh," I say, testing it gingerly. "Feels good as new now."

"You're lucky. I had to break into my father's spell books. I could just as easily have made it much worse."

"But you didn't."

"Like I said: you're lucky. Lucky that your stupid hand matters so much to me."

My hand finds hers beneath the sheets, and we sit together in contented silence. Gradually, our breathing slows, and we slump together, each of us exhausted. At least she has an excuse. I have been sleeping for days.

The feedings become no less traumatic with time. It is only when I can hold a spoon for myself that I begin to stop fearing for my rescued life. Even when my stomach bulges uncomfortably, she plies me with food.

"You need to eat to heal." After everything, I don't have the heart to argue. There are bowls full of minty liquids. Plates of spiced and grilled plants. My stomach wants to revolt, not because of the taste (Ohna is an amazingly good cook) but at the sheer quantity. I haven't eaten this well in weeks.

Now when I doze, it is pleasantly. I feel rested when I resurface. My body is still weak, but my mind at least is beginning to recover. Ohna is a patient and attentive nurse. Even her good nature does not spare me, however. She pushes me to get out of bed, to stretch my screaming muscles. She does not despair when I falter but rallies me with her cheers. It would be annoying, if she wasn't so cute.

As I begin to recover, I am moved to a separate room. I miss Ohna next to me at night, but her father and brothers make it evident that that nicety has come to a definite end. Otherwise, they are a generous and accepting lot. They joke and roughhouse more than I can presently handle, but it reminds me of home. When I can finally join Ohna on her morning excursions, the people of Sunia seem genuinely happy to see me. Whether they remember me or are merely responding to Ohna's stories, I cannot tell, but it makes no difference. The welcome is heartening.

"I have to go," I tell her as soon as I prove to myself that I can make it to the border unassisted.

"Don't be ridiculous!" It is the first time I have seen a flash of anger out of her. "You can barely walk!" I think it is the undoing of all her hard work that most offends her.

"I have to," I stress. "Mab..."

Ohna throws up her hands, and I catch them, holding her palms delicately between my own.

"It's not like that. She is in danger. Really."

Her face falls in obvious debate.

"Did I tell you before? Why we left?" Ohna shakes her head.

"I could tell you were running from something. I didn't want to bring it here. Not before you were ready."

"It was her father. Dager. He took control of our village. He drove out the Incarnates along with anyone who opposed him. She left. He is looking for her. I don't know what he will do, but... I don't want her to walk into it unprepared."

"You think he would hurt his own daughter?"

"I think he might. He might do more than hurt her."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, okay. But I am going with you."