Erian's body still hurt. Every rib protested when he drew a deep breath, every step sent searing jolts from his thighs down to his knees. And yet, he had begun to feel those pains were different from before. They were the pains of someone healing, of a body slowly learning to recognize itself again.
Erian no longer wanted to spend his days lying down, measuring his existence by breaths and the wait for food. His heart urged him forward, to probe, to discover. Perhaps it was dangerous, but the protective silence of that place encouraged him to try.
He rose slowly. His legs trembled under his weight and for a moment he feared collapsing. But he took one step, then another. He moved until he felt the roughness of the nearest wall, and there he placed his hand, breathing calmly.
The surface was cold, rough in some spots, smooth in others. He traced the wall with his fingertips, exploring what he had only intuited before.
