Maya's POV

The world was slowly reassembling itself, piece by agonising piece. For days, perhaps weeks, the edges of my reality had been blurred, my thoughts thick with the syrupy residue of the sedatives. Each breath was a shallow effort, each blink an attempt to clear the fog. My body, though weak, was finally starting to rebel against the enforced stupor. The cloying scent of herbs and stale air in the healer's hut was slowly giving way to the faint, sharper tang of woodsmoke and ...