War of the Seasons, book one: The Human

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Recovery

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Recovery

Story struggled to open her eyes. They felt like they’d been cemented shut. She raised her hands weakly to them and began rubbing gently, relieved that at least her arms worked.

“Hey,” Eirnin murmured in his now familiar rolling accent.

“Hey.” Her voice was dry, and her throat felt like it was coated in dust. Her tongue was swollen and had the consistency of sandpaper. How long had she been unconscious?

“I knew you liked to sleep, but this has to be record, even for you.”

She pried her eyes open and blinked up blearily at him. He had a full mug in one hand and used his other arm to gently prop her up so she could get a drink. Her hands were still too feeble to hold the cup on her own, so Eirnin guided it to her lips and helped her tip it back.

It felt like the drink was putting out a hot brush fire, and she was immediately more alert and a bit stronger. She detected a hint of lemon and honey on her tongue and finished off the cool beverage greedily, surprised when she tipped the cup back and found it empty.

“What kind of water was that?”

Eirnin refilled her mug from a matching clay pitcher on the small table next to him. “While you were asleep Adair brewed you some tea to help you recover. She said it’s a secret dryad recipe her mother taught her to help combat the side effects of the anti-toxin Eilath gave you.” He held the mug out before her, but when she reached for it, he moved just out of her reach. “Slowly now this time. You’re very dehydrated, and you haven’t had anything to eat in over a week. You drink too much right now, and you’ll just throw it all up. We’re nearly stopped for the day and we’ll heat you up some broth. I’ll bet you’re ravenous.”

As if on cue, Story’s stomach rumbled. Heat raced up her neck and flushed her cheeks, and he grinned broadly.

“I’ll drink slowly, I promise. Now hand it over.” Eirnin raised an eyebrow, and Story rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Pleeeease…”

With a quiet laugh he handed the mug over, and she began sipping the tea gratefully, careful not to spill any despite the wagon’s jostling. Looking around inside the wagon, it was just as she’d expected it to be. While the outside was wild and colorful like Adair, the inside was sedate and gentle like Eilath. Soft shades of green and blue alongside the natural browns of the wood were everywhere. Faoláns hung securely on the wall, and a few half-finished ones were on a workbench near the back door.

It was a traveling home, barrel-shaped with a quaint table and stools next to the narrow, yet comfortable, bed she lay on. Based on the placement of the half-folded table, she surmised that the bed also doubled as bench. A hammock rocked overhead, and she guiltily realized that while she’d been sleeping here, someone, most likely Eilath, had been displaced and forced to sleep outside. She hoped the weather had been good. She’d been lucky in that, other than her first night in Ailionora, it hadn’t rained at all.

She passed the empty mug back and sat up slowly against the back of the wagon. “How long was I asleep? A week, did you say?”

“A little over. Nine days to be exact.” He set the mug on the table next to him.

“How am I still alive?”

“The anti-toxin Eilath gave you, of course. He had some prepared just in case this sort of thing ever happened to Adair. Though, it’s a bit surprising that the fuath went after you at all. They don’t normally risk coming out in daylight hours.”

She waved his answer away. “No, I know all that.” She paused and thought about what she had just said. “Okay, actually I didn’t know that stuff about the fuath. Though, to answer your question, it’s because Morrigann sent it after me.” Eirnin’s eyes flashed red, and Story hurriedly continued. “What I meant was, how am I still alive after not eating or drinking for so long? The human body can only take a few days without water before it dies.”