THORNE
I woke to the taste of ash in my mouth and the dull throb of exhaustion in every bone.
My eyes cracked open slowly, the red haze of the mist filtering through my vision. Everything ached, but the fever had broken. I could feel it in the way my skin no longer burned, in the way my thoughts were clear instead of fractured.
I tried to sit up and immediately a hand was on my shoulder, steadying me.
"Easy, Alpha," Garret's voice came from beside me. "Take it slow."
I let him help me upright, my head swimming slightly as the world tilted before righting itself. My throat was raw, my muscles weak, but I was alive.
"How long?" I rasped.
"Six hours since you collapsed," Garret said. "The fever broke about an hour ago."
Six hours. Not as bad as it could have been. The nightfall episodes usually left me unconscious for at least a day.
"Althea," I said immediately, my eyes searching the camp. "Where is she?"
