Wade woke slowly, drifting between the haze of pain and the heavy quiet that seemed to fill his mind completely.
The silence felt wrong. A few seconds later, through the haze, his mind pieced together what was wrong.
The silence was too loud for a battlefield.
His chest ached with every breath he took, and the sting along his ribs reminded him he was still alive.
He tried to move, groaning softly as the motion sent fire through his body.
"Take it easy," a voice said gently.
He turned his head to see Mercy, her face filled with exhaustion.
She sat on a stool beside his cot, hands clasped tightly together.
Her once-white healer's robe was gray with dust and streaked with blood.
"What… happened?" Wade rasped. His throat felt dry as ash.
"The battle's over," she said softly. "You were lucky. A few soldiers found you near the barricades. They dragged you here before the last wave broke."
He blinked, trying to process the words. "The… horde?"
