The next awakening was less harsh. Painful, yes, but different: his muscles protested, yet they didn't feel entirely broken; his stomach didn't roar, but stayed satisfied; his throat wasn't so dry.
Erian felt around. As he expected, someone had left more food: this time, he recognized it as a coarse bread, with a hard crust, probably baked on hot stones.
He smelled it and caught the aroma of toasted grain, mixed with something herbaceous.
"Thank you again," he whispered.
He chewed slowly, moistening each bite with water so he could swallow. And between mouthfuls, he spoke aloud:
"Today I'll try to stand."
He said it as if speaking to his invisible savior, but really, he was saying it to himself. A promise, an obligation.
Carefully, he searched around until he found a place to support himself. His abdominal muscles clenched in pain, his ribs burned with sharp pain, but he gritted his teeth and slowly sat up. Air hissed between his lips from the effort.
