He woke to pale morning light filtering through the tent canvas.
For a moment, he simply lay there, regaining his bearings. The pain in his side returned first, followed by the memories. The ravine. The archers. The men he had lost.
He remembered Morana dropping into the ravine between him and Remin's advancing group of armed rebels. He remembered the ride back to camp, physician's hands pressing against his ribs as he worked to keep him alive, and then very little after that.
He turned his head slightly and found Morana still sitting on the stool near the tent wall.
She had not slept. He could see how tired she was. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, and weariness had settled into her features, the look of someone who had stayed awake for hours. She was already looking at him when he turned, and when their eyes met, she straightened on her seat.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
