The sun was already high in the sky when Erian opened his eyes again. He didn't know exactly how long he had slept inside the hollow trunk, but the heaviness in his body made him think it had been far too long.
Exhaustion kept him trapped even while awake. Moving his eyelids felt like an unbearable burden. Erian felt his body begging him to sink back into the darkness of sleep, but something inside forced him to remain conscious, clinging to wakefulness.
For a moment, all he felt was that crushing fatigue, but as his awareness slowly returned, something else made itself known.
At first, it was a vague pain. A discomfort that spread through his entire body, as if heat and fever were one and the same. But soon the ache sharpened.
It was the pain of his wounds. Cuts and scrapes, never treated and now inflamed, oozed beneath the damp folds of his white tunic. Every brush of the fabric drew a groan from him. His skin burned as if live embers smoldered beneath it.
